The Last Ballad(68)

“We’ll do what you have to do when you kill a snake,” Epps said.

“And what’s that?” Richard asked.

“We’ll lop off its head,” Guyon said.

“And what about this woman?” Richard asked. “This singer. A snake with its head cut off can still bite you.”

Epps smiled. “I reckon we’ll just have to cut out its tongue.”





Chapter Eight

Katherine McAdam





Saturday, May 25, 1929



The band had already left the small stage and the guests had just been served their entrees when the ballroom doors were thrown open and Richard walked inside. As soon as she saw him Katherine knew that he’d been drinking. He was accompanied by Hugo Guyon and a fat, ugly man Katherine had never seen before. Guyon and the other man stopped just inside the doors and scanned the ballroom as if searching for available seats.

Richard walked toward the family’s large round table, where Katherine and Claire sat with Paul Lytle and his mother and father. Richard made a grand gesture of stooping to kiss Claire on her cheek, then he moved around to where Katherine sat and kissed her on top of her head. He pulled his napkin from the back of his chair and took a seat. Katherine caught Claire’s eye across the table. It looked as if her daughter was trying to blink back tears.

“Excuse me for stepping out,” Richard said. He didn’t seem to notice that no one had said a word since he’d appeared. The waiters had offered a choice of pheasant or steak, and Katherine had ordered Richard a steak. “This looks delicious,” he said. He reached beneath the table and gave her fingers a discreet squeeze. She hoped her hand felt as lifeless and sick as her heart.

“It certainly does look delicious,” Mrs. Lytle said. She, like Katherine, had ordered the pheasant, and now the woman stared down at her plate and set about picking at her dinner as if she’d never finish it.

“Where have you been?” Claire asked her father from across the table. Beside her, Paul was clearly watching Richard’s plate to gauge when it would be acceptable to cut into his own steak.

“Yes, Mr. McAdam,” Paul’s father said. “We’ve missed you.” He set down his silverware and passed his napkin across his mouth. He took a sip of water. “I thought you might be out there in the rain, trying to fix my car.” He winked at Richard, whose eyes were locked on the table. “I was about to go search for you and show you how to use a wrench.” He laughed.

“No,” Richard said. “Quite the opposite. I was outside, very much hoping to be seen.” He cut a hunk of steak and put it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, glanced at Katherine, and made a grotesque face meant to show that he couldn’t believe how good the meat tasted. She tried to smile at him, if for no other reason than to keep up appearances in front of the Lytles. Earlier, while Claire and Paul had orbited the ballroom, dancing and greeting guests before dinner, she’d been locked in a dry conversation with Mr. Lytle about the differences between growing rice and cotton, instead of speaking to her friends or spending time with Claire. And then this business with the burned cakes and the things she’d overheard.

“Those men there,” Richard said, using his fork to point across the room to where Guyon and the fat stranger had finally found seats at a table, “those men who came in behind me are going to pay for the car that was damaged today, Mr. Lytle. So there’s no need to worry about it.”

“I wasn’t worried about it,” Lytle had said. “I didn’t damage it. And I know Percy Epps. I would’ve had it taken care of myself.”

Richard set his silverware down on either side of his plate. His mustache was shiny with the steak’s blood, and Katherine saw that his face was flush with color. He turned and stared at Mr. Lytle.

“That’s not my point,” Richard said. “I was just telling you that it’s being taken care of.” He turned back to his plate and cut into his steak. “Hugo Guyon’s the superintendent at Loray. A big man in this community.”

“Never heard of him,” Mr. Lytle said. “But I believe that if this superintendent were better at his job, his people wouldn’t be rioting. The car wouldn’t have been damaged in the first place.”

“It’s an outside element,” Richard said. He smiled, popped another piece of steak into his mouth. “It’ll soon be gone.”

Katherine looked across the table at Mrs. Lytle.

“I love your dress,” she said. “You always look so lovely.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Lytle said. “You look exquisite in that gown.” She looked to her right, over her son’s plate, and spoke to Claire. “You both do. Do you ladies shop together?”

Claire smiled. It was the first real smile Katherine had seen her give since Richard had disappeared earlier in the evening.

“We have been, recently,” Claire said. “Since I’ve been home.”

“And we’ll go more,” Katherine said, smiling at Claire. “Now that you’re home, we’ll go more. Perhaps more than we should, I promise.” Claire smiled back at her.

“Yes, quite often,” Richard chimed in, attempting to join in on the joke.

“There are so many wonderful stores in Charlotte,” Katherine said. “Perhaps on your drive home—”