as Spencer had known any of them.
“I’m glad to see you standing there,” he said. “I didn’t know who would be here.”
“Mais yeah, I can tell that.” Pelichere stepped away from him so that she could get a better look.
He felt her appraising gaze and tried to stand a little straighter. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look so fine.”
“Before I get any surprises, you’d better tell me. Is anyone else here yet?”
“Dawn’s up in her room. I made her eat. Ben Towns end, he came. He went.”
“He’ll be back,” Spencer said.
“The others are coming? Still?”
Spencer nodded.
“Aurore, she always did what she thought was best. Even when it wasn’t.” Pelichere picked up Spencer’s suitcase. “Your room’s ready, and there’s coffee in the kitchen.”
The sound of a car engine chased the lure of both from Spencer’s head. He turned as a dark, sleek Lincoln came to a halt under the oaks. “The senator,” he said, although he was sure Pelichere already knew that.
“Me, I’ve got other fish to fry.” The door banged shut behind Pelichere, and Spencer was left alone to greet Ferris Lee and Cappy Gerritsen. He watched as Ferris got out to open the door for his wife.
Ferris Lee Gerritsen wasn’t classically handsome. He was barrel-chested and broad-shouldered, with a high forehead and gray hair that was still thick enough to require a good haircut. His nose had been broken more than once, and the arrogant thrust of his chin had invited punches, too.
But what was the exact shape of a nose, the cut of a jaw, compared to personal magnetism? He had eyes that crackled with patriotic fervor and a resonant voice that could stroke or destroy. Combined with a rare understanding of the hopes and prejudices of his constituents, his charisma could usher him into the governor’s mansion in 1968.
Cappy Gerritsen, blond and petulant, was dressed as if she were setting out for an afternoon of bridge and gossip. Her white linen shift stopped just above her knees, but it wasn’t short enough to be in poor taste. Many things could be said about Cappy, but never that her taste was poor.
Ferris wasted no time on pleasantries. He spoke be fore he reached the porch. “Maybe we can get down to business before this place is blown to Hades and back.”
“I listened to the forecast on my trip down,” Spencer said. “There’s nothing to worry about yet. Maybe not at all.”
“I’ve tried to reach you a dozen times in the last few days.”
“Have you?” Spencer knew full well that a dozen was a low estimate.
“I don’t understand the point of this. I’m supposed to be in Baton Rouge this week. Why couldn’t we read the will in New Orleans?”
“I’d rather talk about the reasons when everyone’s here.”
Ferris’s expression had been anything but cordial; it grew less so. “And just who’s expected?”
“I’d like to know if my daughter’s arrived,” Cappy said, before Spencer could answer.
“Dawn is here, though I haven’t seen her yet.”
“Well, at least she hasn’t entirely forgotten she has a family.”
Spencer watched Ferris silence his wife with a frown. “Suppose you forget about everybody else for a minute,” Ferris said, “and tell me exactly what’s going on?”
“I’m following your mother’s wishes. That’s all I can say.”
“That’s all you will say. I—” Ferris’s gaze went from Spencer’s face to the drive. A small car, one of Detroit’s newer compacts, was approaching the house.
Spencer wished he had a chair. He also wished for a Ramos gin fizz, although the days when it would have agreed with him were long over. “And who’s this?” Ferris asked.
Spencer watched a tall man unfurling himself from behind the steering wheel. As Phillip Benedict approached, Spencer admired the elegant posture, the strong, even features.
Ferris answered his own question. “Ben Townsend.”
Until that moment, Spencer had noticed only one man; now he switched his gaze to the other. Ben was nearly as tall as Phillip, with the same lithe confidence of movement. The confidence of the young.
Ferris stepped forward. Ben thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He assessed Ferris before he spoke. “Good evening, Senator Gerritsen.”
“You’re not welcome here.” Ferris didn’t look at Phillip. “Neither is your…friend.”
Spencer crossed the porch before Ben could respond. He extended his hand to Phillip. “Phillip.” Then he turned to Ben and held out his hand. “I’m Spencer St. Amant. Thank you for coming.”
“Hasn’t this gone far enough?” Ferris asked. “I want to know what this is about.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what it’s about, Senator,” Phillip said. He smiled pleasantly, although he was carefully assessing everyone as he spoke. “My name’s Phillip Ben edict. Your mother invited Townsend here and me to hear her will. Now, sure as you’re her representative in the land of the living, I know you’re going to make us right at home.”
“You could never feel at home here.”
“As your mother’s attorney, I welcome Ben and Phillip in her name.” Spencer turned away from Ferris and Cappy, to signal that his business with them was completed. “I just got here myself, but I know there have been beds prepared for you.”
Phillip’s reply was drowned out by the sound of an other car. Both young men turned to see who was coming. Spencer watched a late-model Thunderbird pull up the driveway. No one said a word as the car stopped be side Phillip’s and its two occupants got out. Phillip stepped forward as a man and woman walked slowly to ward him. “Hello, Nicky,” Phillip said.
Nicky stopped a short distance from her son. She nodded to him, her eyes wary; then she looked past Phillip to the porch. “Mr. St. Amant?”
Spencer smiled and stretched out his hand. Nicky introduced her husband; then she paused. “And Ferris Lee,” she said, inclining her head. “Ferris, you probably haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my husband, Jake Reynolds.”
Jake didn’t offer his hand, and Ferris didn’t move. Ben filled the gap by offering his to Nicky. “I’m Ben Townsend.”
Spencer watched them shake. He could not think badly of Aurore, but for a moment he wished that she had made different decisions in her lifetime. “I was just telling the others that beds have been prepared,” he said. “And I’m sure there’s dinner, if you haven’t eaten al ready.”
“Thank you,
