Breath of Scandal(33)

"Of course, dear. Go home and fie down with a heating pad- "

Covertly, Lamar watched Donna Dee leave. As she closed the classroom door behind her, she looked directly at him, but he failed to interpret the meaning of her silent communiqu6. It looked like she was telling him to keep his mouth shut.

By the time school was dismissed for the day, his unsteady knees barely supported him as he rushed to his car. Because he didn't know what else to do or where else to for answers, he drove out to Neal's house.

90 It was situated on a piece of prime real estate. From the highway, a gravel road wound through thick woods. The cultivated lawn surrounding the house was as wide as a football field. Three ancient live oaks protected it with a dense canopy of branches. The roots snaked along the ground like lava tubes.

The two-story brick house was impressive, but Myrajane



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Griffith scorned it. "Old Rufus Patchett didn't have a lick of good taste. He designed that house so it would have eight columns across the veranda, when six would have done just as nicely. Rufus wanted to rile Daddy by building a house grander than ours. It's trashy to be so ostentatious," she'd often said.

But recently she had contradicted herself, saying, "It's disgraceful the way Ivan has let that lovely house go to rack and ruin. It needs a woman's touch. He should have remarried long ago. That Eula who works for him is a slovenly housekeeper. She's lazy and insolent. "

Lamar had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not ask where his mother got her information. To his knowledge, she had never set foot in the Patchetts' house. She had dropped him off many times but had never been invited inside.

Ivan's father, Rufus, had made a fortune in cotton. The sweat of cotton pickers, sharecroppers, and gin workers had gone into the mortar that held the pastel bricks together. Rufus had been clever. While his contemporaries were haggling with brokers to squeeze one more penny out of a bale of cotton in a declining market, he'd switched to growing soybeans. Like Myrajane's family, most of the cotton planters had lost everything. They'd sold plots of acreage to Rufus for ten cents on the dollar just to keep from having to pay the taxes on soil they could no longer afford to cultivate.

Rufus had been land-hungry and gobbled up property right and left. Ignoring the derision of his peers, he had continued to plant soybeans. When it became feasible, he 'd built the factory so he could manufacture the by-products himself. After Rufus died, Ivan had inherited all the land and the factory and the power that went with them. One day Neal would do the same. And his son after him.

Lamar, rather than feel envious of his friend, was relieved to know he didn't have that kind of responsibility ahead of him. He had been suckled on stiff-necked Cowan family pride and frankly thought it was destructive and stupid. What good had it done the Cowans? The only ones left were a



distant cousin or two and Myrajane, who was stingy, grasping, and possessive. She'd made life hell for Lamar's late father, whom he still missed. Maybe if she had started out poor, they all would have been happier.

As Lamar approached the house, he saw that he wasn't Neal's only guest. Hutch's car was parked out front in the circular driveway.

Eula answered the door. Conscientiously, Lamar wiped his feet on the mat before stepping into the marble vestibule "Hi, Eula. Is Neal here?"

"He's upstairs with Hutch, in his bedroom."

He jogged up the sweeping staircase and opened the second door on his left past the gallery. Neal was sitting on the floor, his back propped against the bed. Hutch was slouched in an easy chair. Remarkably, Neal looked the same as always. Hutch's freckles seemed to have turned darker overnight. Or was it that his skin beneath them was unnaturally pale? The scratch on his cheek stood out in stark contrast.

"Hi," Neal said. "Come in. Want a beer?" "No, thanks."

Hutch said nothing. They made brief eye contact, but, because of the sinful secret they now shared, it was difficult for Lamar to look directly at his friends. Apparently Hutch felt the same.

Neal appeared unfazed. "How was school today, Lamar?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Anything momentous happen?" He took a swig of his beer.

"No." After a brief pause, he said, "Mr. Patterson announced that Gary and . . . and Jade got college scholarships." He shot Hutch a furtive glance. Hutch blanched paler than before.

"You don't say?" Neal drawled. "How 'bout that? Good for them. "

Hutch bounded out of the easy chair and moved to the window. In his wake, he left a string of curses. Regarding Hutch, Neal took another sip of his beer. "What's eating



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your ass? Aren't you glad about their scholarships?" Laughter lay just beneath his words.

Angrily Hutch spun around. "Aren't we even going to talk about it? Are we just going to pretend nothing happened?"

Now that Hutch had broached the subject, Lamar was relieved that he could finally talk about it with someone. "Jesus, I've been scared shitless all day."

"Scared? Of what?" Neal asked scoffingly. "Of getting into trouble, what do you think?"