Present Danger

by Susan Andersen

Genres: Romantic Suspense; Suspense

Synopsis

To Love He'll find her. Sooner or later, Aunie Franklin's ex-husband, Wesley, will track her down. She's moved clear across the country to start over, but she knows it's not far enough from a madman obsessed with making her pay. . . And To Cherish James Ryder's new tenant is running from something. Her Southern sass doesn't hide the fading bruises on her face. James doesn't need more complications in his life, but he can't ignore her rising fear. Especially once the phone calls and threats begin. . . Till Death. . . Every day brings Wesley one step closer. Aunie will be his again, to possess—and to punish. Because the past she tried to flee is about to become her present. And he'll make sure she never escapes again. . . Praise for the novels of Susan Andersen "A consistently excellent voice in romantic suspense fiction, Susan Andersen keeps on delivering captivating and thrilling novels of dangerous love and dark suspense." -- Romantic Times on Exposure "A winner."-- ublishers Weekly on Bending the Rules

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 285

Sample

The quickest way to Aunie Franklin’s heart was not through complimenting her looks. She’d been praised for her appearance since she was five years old and quite honestly didn’t understand what the fuss was all about—like most women, she felt she needed a helping hand from the cosmetic industry. Anyway, wasn’t the arrangement of one’s features pretty much an accident of genes? Not exactly an accomplishment that she could point to with pride, was it? Now, what she would truly find flattering was to hear that she was intelligent, or better yet, competent. At twenty-six she felt that she had already wasted most of her life being nothing more than a decoration—nice enough to look at, she supposed, but ultimately rather useless.

Not, she thought with justifiable irony, that it was likely to be a particular problem today.

She looked up at the facade of the old brick apartment house. It had caught her fancy immediately, with its old-fashioned portico, the warm coloring of its bricks, and the lovely front door that was mostly a large oval of beveled glass. She couldn’t believe her luck in spotting this place. The building was not too large; it was close to a community college, and best of all there was a sign, Apartment for Rent, on a peg thrust into the postage-stamp-sized lawn out front. She hadn’t even noticed that at first glance. Her eyes had been drawn to the building itself as she’d slowly maneuvered the narrow streets in her rented car. It had an air of shabby gentility that made her feel right at home. She’d lived in places like this one before.

It looked absolutely perfect, which couldn’t help making her a bit nervous. Things that appeared too good to be true generally were. She’d discovered that the hard way.

Perfection ceased to be a problem the moment she attempted to find a parking space. In this neighborhood it was obviously an exercise in frustration. She had to drive several blocks, turning several corners in the process, before she finally found a space that was so small it took her three attempts at parallel parking to squeeze into it. Then, of course, she had to find her way back. She’d turned so many corners, she was completely turned around.

But she was not as lacking in intelligence as was popularly believed back home in Atlanta. She had made note of the cross streets and eventually found her way back to the building. She walked up the short path, pressed the intercom button, and peered through the glass into the foyer.

It had a look of having been lovingly restored, all gleaming old wood and new paint. There was an open staircase dead ahead that displayed a polished oak banister. The stairs were covered with an old, thin, tapestry carpet runner that had probably been quite valuable once upon a time.

The speaker next to her ear emitted a static crackle. “May I help you?” asked a disembodied voice.

Aunie leaned into the intercom. “I’m here about the apartment for rent.”

“Manager’s apartment is 1A on your right.” The door buzzed and Aunie pushed it open. Closing it carefully behind her, she shivered in the sudden flow of warm air. She hadn’t realized how chilled she was until she stepped out of the moisture-laden wind. After a lifetime in the South, she was going to need a bit of adjusting to this Seattle weather. It wasn’t actually raining; yet there was a dampness in the air that cut to the bone.

More heat curled around her when the door to the manager’s apartment suddenly opened before she could knock on it. In the doorway stood a tall black woman dressed in layers of colorful cotton, an ankle bracelet gracing one bare foot, and she was wearing a brightly patterned scarf tied turban-style around her head. The woman’s welcoming smile faded as she studied Aunie with concern. “Ah, woo-mon,” she said in a soft, Jamaican lilt as her warm brown eyes noted the damage to Aunie’s face, “What hoppened to you?”

Aunie gave her a polite smile in return, stretching her mouth as far as the still-split lip would allow. “I’m inquirin’ about the apartment.”

The exotic woman seemed not to take offense that Aunie had not answered her question. She smiled serenely. “Yes, of course; you will like it very much, I think. You come wid me.” She stepped back to allow Aunie entrance to her apartment. “I am Lola.”

Aunie extended her hand. “Aunie Franklin.”

“Pleasured to make your acquaintance, On-nie. Please”—Lola gestured to the overstuffed sofa—“make yourself comfortable while I find the keys.”

To herself, Lola thought, I sign this one up quick, before James catches sight of her. With her usual decisiveness, she had taken one look at the fragile-looking woman with the battered face and determined she was in need of help and friendship … and very likely protection as well.

She also knew that if James were to see her, he would turn her away in a second. He had some ridiculous new notion about not taking care of people anymore. Said he was tired of having everyone’s problems dumped in his lap and, from now on, he was looking out for number one … period. With that bad-luck family of his, Lola understood his sudden change of attitude. But it was the man’s inherent nature to handle trouble, so at the same time it made her impatient. Destiny was destiny, and it was futile to rail against what was meant to be, now wasn’t it? Lola knew that, even if James did not.

Grabbing the keys and donning a pair of worn ballet slippers, Lola led Aunie upstairs. The second floor didn’t show the same loving care that the ground floor did, but Lola was quick to explain. “Just finished redoin’ the first floor and this unit,” she said as she opened the apartment door and stood back for Aunie to enter. “The mons, they be starting on the hallway up here come Monday.”

“Oh, this is nice,” Aunie said a moment later as she wandered about the high-ceilinged apartment. It was light and airy, with stark white walls, and in the small dining area were two tall, narrow, old-fashioned windows that let in the weak afternoon light through slanted wooden miniblinds. A curved archway separated the living room from the dining area, and the floors in both rooms were polished hardwood. There had been generous use made of natural woods: framing the windows, in the moldings and foot boards, and in the built-in bookshelves on either side of… “Oh, a fireplace,” Aunie breathed reverently. She didn’t actually know how to build a fire, but she was certain she could learn. She looked over her shoulder at Lola. “Does it work?”

“Certainly. The mons, they finished redoin’ this place not too long ago. Everything work perfectly.”

Aunie’s overall impression of the apartment was of spaciousness even though it wasn’t actually all that large. There was a small, efficient kitchen and an even smaller bathroom with an old-fashioned claw-foot tub and pedestal sink. The bedroom was a reasonable size, though, and its floor was covered with thick, plush, wall-to-wall, pearl grey carpeting. It also contained a huge closet.

“I’ll take it.” Aunie turned to Lola. “Oh, wait. I guess I’d better inquire first how much you’re asking.”

The rent was only a little steeper than she had expected to pay but it included heat, so in the long run she would probably get the best of the bargain. She had a feeling she was going to go through a great deal of fuel before she became acclimated to this damp new climate. With a sense of satisfaction, she trailed Lola back to her apartment to sign the papers. First full day in town, and already she’d found a place to stay and had brochures from the nearby college.

“How do you spell your first name, woo-mon?” Lola asked her as she filled in the forms. “O-n-n-i-e?”

Aunie corrected her and went on to spell her last name also. In moments, she was signing a six-month lease and endorsing a number of traveler’s checks to cover first and last month’s rent and a damage deposit. When everything was in order, Lola offered her a cup of tea.

“Welcome to your new home,” she said with cheerful friendliness. “I hope you will be as hoppy here as I have been.”

Aunie hoped so, too. Talking with Lola as she finished her tea, she marveled at how uncommonly relaxed and at home she felt. She had never actually known a black person on a personal level before. The few with whom she’d had even the most minimal contact were connected to the service industries, and it was a firmly entrenched belief in her family that people from their rarified echelon of society did not mix with those who served them. She wasn’t so sheltered she didn’t realize there were many African-Americans in positions of authority far removed from serving others. She had simply never met any and so had never given any thought to how well she’d mix with them in a social situation.

Prejudice apparently wasn’t as inbred in her as it was in other members of her family, however; inexplicably, with Lola she felt as though she were talking to an old friend. The woman had a natural dignity and exuded a friendliness that prevented Aunie’s old demon shyness from manifesting itself. She felt she could listen to the lilting cadence of her voice forever, could bask in the warmth of the woman’s eyes.

The front door banged open, and Lola swore softly under her breath. Gesturing Aunie to remain seated, she rose to her feet and crossed the room in a swirl of colorful skirts.

“Lola!” Aunie watched with interest as a toughlooking, well-built man swept Lola off her feet and swung her around. He had the go-to-hell eyes of someone who’d seen it all and soft, pale blond hair that receded slightly from his high forehead and was pulled straight back into a short ponytail. Aunie had never particularly cared for ponytails on men, but the style seemed to suit this one’s face, which was all strong planes and angles. The shape of his skull was delineated faithfully beneath the taut skin of his forehead; he had a bony, prominent nose and a stubborn-looking chin. His cheekbones were flat and angular, his teeth were white, and slashing lines cut from the corners of those rebel eyes clear into his lean cheeks. There were three shallow creases in his right cheek next to his mouth.

“How’s my favorite woman?” he asked, grinning at Lola and holding her in a grip that dangled her feet off the ground, even though they were very nearly the same height, perhaps five feet ten or eleven inches tall. Aunie wondered with fascinated speculation if they were married. She’d never met anyone from an interracial marriage, but it wouldn’t surprise her, given the ask-me-if-I-care expression in the man’s eyes. He looked like the type who would do exactly as he pleased and not give a damn what the rest of the world thought of his behavior.

“James, you fool mon, put me down,” Lola said sternly.

“Not until I have your promise you’ll dump Otis and run away with me.”

“Go on wid you, mon! What is this I’m hearin’?” Lola planted her hands on his broad shoulders and pushed back until she could see his face. He grinned happily. “Will you be forsakin’ all your blonde bimbos wid the bra sizes larger than their IQ’s to make an honest woo-mon of me, James Ryder?”

“No. But think of the scintillating conversations we could have before I go back to my wandering ways. C’mon, Lola, whataya say? It’ll be fun.”

“Take your mitts off my woman, Jimmy,” a deep voice rumbled. “I’d hate to haveta squash you like a bug.”

“I’d hate to be squashed, Otis.” Still grinning, James let Lola loose.

Aunie’s startled attention was drawn to the black man who had spoken. She’d been so caught up in the blonde’s theatrics, she’d failed to even notice the other man; but now that she had noticed him, her eyes widened.

Before he’d smiled, she’d thought the blonde looked tough … and it was most likely that he was. Compared to this man, however, he looked like a pussycat.

Otis was tall … very tall. To Aunie, who was seated, he appeared to be an ebony giant, all roped muscles, dark gleaming skin, and standing veins. His bald head shone in the overhead light and there was a ridge of scar tissue bisecting his skull from the crown of his head to his temple. A small golden hoop glinted in his ear, and when he suddenly smiled, she was taken aback. He had a surprisingly sweet smile, with the whitest, strongest teeth she had ever seen.

Oh, God, this was too perfect. Aunie nearly hugged herself. If Wesley somehow managed to track her down, coming face-to-face with these two men should at least give him pause. The corners of her lips curled up.

“Who’s your dainty little friend, baby?” The deep rumble made Aunie’s head whip up. Otis had crossed the room on silent feet and was standing over her.

Lola joined him, hooking her arm through his and hugging an impressive bicep to the side of her breast. “This is Aunie Franklin. Aunie, this is my husband, Otis Jackson, and our friend James Ryder.” She took a deep breath and girded herself. “Aunie’s rentin’ 2B.”

“Oh, shit, baby,” Otis whispered. “What did ya go do that for?”

“The hell she is!” James roared and Aunie stared at him in startled confusion. The humorous tease of a moment ago had vanished. In his place stood a furious, scowling man who looked ten times harder than she had thought him to be. She rose to her feet, but she was tiny and still had to crane her neck to look him in the eye as he towered over her. “Sorry, lady,” he said flatly, staring down at her with eyes colder than the Pacific Northwest rain. “That apartment’s not for rent.” Not, at any rate, to another screwed-up little waif looking to make her problems his problems.

Aunie drew herself up. “Ah have a signed contract that says it is,” she disagreed in her well-bred, soft-spoken voice. The sudden thickening of her accent was the only outward sign of an escalating inward anger. She didn’t know what this man’s problem was, but she was not giving up her new apartment.

“Ah, shit, she’s a Southerner, too,” he muttered in disgust. He turned on his heel and stomped away. “Dammit, Lola, why’d you do it? Look at her face! Some asshole’s beat her up, and now you’ve gone and landed her in my lap.” His head whipped around and he impaled Aunie with angry moss green eyes. “Or are you gonna try and tell us that”—the wave of his hand encompassed her abused face—“happened to you when you walked into a door?”

“I’m not tryin’ to tell you a solitary thing, mistah,” Aunie replied with cool disdain. “I don’t know you from Adam, suh, and the condition of my face is my business. Not yours.”

“You’ve got that straight, sugar. Remember that when your old man shows up lookin’ for blood, because I’m just gonna step aside and wave him by.” James turned away. “Lola, why?” He raked his fingers through his hair from crown to rubber band. His fist closed around his ponytail and tugged until the roots strained. “Couldn’t you see she’s trouble? God, I don’t fuckin’ believe this. I’ve got a whole truckload of problems to straighten out already, but you just had to saddle me with hers, too, didn’t you? I’m never gonna get a minute to myself now, what with handling all the Ryder shit and now Miss Magnolia Blossom’s, too.”

“Excuse me!” Aunie’s infuriated voice sliced through his complaint. “You’ve got quite an inflated opinion of yourself, haven’t you?” Beneath swollen, blackened lids, her brown eyes flashed fire. Breasts rising with indignation beneath her oversized silk-and-cotton-blend sweater, hands clenched into fists at her side, she stalked forward belligerently. Despite her diminutive size, James found himself backing up a step, wondering how she managed to appear to be looking down her nose at him when she had to tilt her head way back merely to meet his eyes.

“Who the devil are you, mistah,” she demanded, “Superman or somethin’? I purely don’t recall him havin’ such a filthy mouth.” She tossed her head, making her shiny brown hair swing away from her bruised jaw. “That apartment is mine, paid for and signed on the dotted line, and I am movin’ in on the first. I don’t know what you’re in such an uproar about, anyway; nobody requested your assistance handlin’ my problems.” She conveniently chose to forget her momentary excitement over his and Otis’s obvious street-aware toughness. It was beside the point, anyway.

“I came here to rent an apartment, period,” she informed him with cool disdain, “not to find myself a big brotha to fight my wars for me. But for the record, suh, if Ah did need someone, I think I’d ask Otis here. He looks a whole lot tougher than you, so you can just give your superhero cape a rest. I won’t be requirin’ it.”

She swung away and plucked her coat and purse off the couch. Controlling her outrage with an effort, she managed a weak smile. “Lola, thank you for your warm hospitality,” she said. “I look forward to gettin’ to know you much better. Otis, it was a real pleasuah to meet you.” She turned to James and nodded coolly. “Mistah Rydah.”

And then she was gone.

Otis looked at the stunned expression on his enraged friend’s face and tried to control his grin, but it refused to be subdued. “Well, I guess you can rest easy, Jimmy. I doubt she’s a victim of wife abuse, anyway.”

“Why the hell not?” James demanded indignantly. “She’s such a midget, it wouldn’t take much to subdue her.”

“Yeah, well, she may be tiny, Jimmy, but she’s got attitude,” Otis disagreed. “She backed you into a corner, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, Superman,” Lola murmured with a throaty laugh.

James muttered something truly foul, turned on his heel, and slammed out of the apartment.

Otis put his arm around his wife and dragged her down onto the couch next to him. “You’ve really stirred up something this time, baby.”

Lola shrugged. “She needed a place to stay and she loved the apartment,” she replied calmly. “Was I supposed to turn away the steady income because she was sportin’ a few bruises?”

“Hell, babe, it is James’s apartment house and you know his feelings. You had to know that little gal would be expressly contrary to what he wants.”

“That mon doesn’t know what he wants.”

“And you do, I suppose?”

Lola just gave him her mysterious, three-cornered smile—the one that drove him mad and had led him to pursue her some years back until she had finally agreed to marry him. Laughter rumbled like distant thunder deep in his massive chest. “Yeah, I suppose you do, at that.” With a mock growl, he grabbed her up and rolled her over.

After the fact, Aunie was quite amazed at her temerity in standing up to James Ryder. She sat in her rented car ten minutes later, shaking with reaction. Had that really been she, the Aunie Franklin who, up until a year ago, had never made a wave in her life, angrily defying a man with such dangerous eyes? Perhaps she really was going to be able to make all the changes in her life she desired to make.

She’d better. It wasn’t as if she had any other options.

The first thing she did when she reached her downtown hotel room was call her lawyer in Atlanta. The phone rang several times before she remembered the three-hour time difference. She disconnected and dialed his home number.

The phone there rang several times also and she was just on the point of hanging up when he answered.

“Hello?”

“Jordan? This is Aunie.”

“Aunie! Where are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m at the Westin Hotel in Seattle; I’m fine, and guess what? I’ve already found a place to live.”

“That was quick.”

“Oh, Jordan, I wish you could see it. It’s wonderful.” She sat down on the side of the bed and kicked off her shoes. “It’s in a beautiful old buildin’ just blocks from the college I hope to attend, and it has a fireplace and lots of natural wood and it’s filled with such interestin’ lines.”

“Sounds perfect. Is it a secure building?”

“Yes.” She clutched the receiver more tightly and asked with quick alarm, “Wesley is still in jail, isn’t he?”

He hesitated then said, “They let him out on his own recognizance.”

“NO!”

“Don’t worry, Aunie. It was stipulated he could not leave the state before his trial, and he doesn’t have the first idea where to find you even if he could leave Georgia. Also, there is some good news.”

“Let’s heah it. Ah could use a little good news about now.” Feeling her grasp on her accent slipping—always an accurate barometer to the amount of stress she was feeling—she took several slow, deep breaths.

“You don’t have to return to testify. Because of the threats to your personal safety, the judge has agreed to allow your deposition and the photographs of the damage Wesley did to you to stand in your stead.”

“Oh, Jordan, that is good news. The fewer trips I have to make between here and Atlanta, the less chance there is for Wesley to track me.” She threaded her fingers through her hair. “Let me give you my new address. Do you have a pencil?”

“Shoot.”

She recited it and he read it back to her for verification. “Will you send the things I put in storage?” she requested. “The rest can be sold with the house, or if it’s easier to sell it separately, do that. Either way, I don’t want it. I’m moving in on the first, so if you could get my stored stuff here by then, I’d sure appreciate it. I realize it doesn’t give you a great deal of time …”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do the best I can.”

“Thank you Jordan. You’ve been such a comfort through all of this.”

“Don’t mention it. How do you like Seattle?”

“It’s green. And cold.” She glanced out the window. “I’m supposed to have a view of the Olympic mountains from my hotel room, but so far I haven’t seen anything except clouds where they’re supposed to be. They tell me they’re quite beautiful, though.”

“I’m going to send you the name of a lawyer there,” Jordan said. “I’ll send him a copy of your file and, Aunie, I want you to go see him. Get a restraining order … just in case.”

She shivered. “The restrainin’ order didn’t do me a whole lot of good last time.”

“I know, sweetheart. But it should add clout to the case against him, and I want you to have one.”

“Oh, Jordan,” she said with quiet despair, “is this never going to end?”

“It will, Aunie. Maybe sooner than we think.”

“God, I’ve been prayin’ for the day.”

“You just enjoy your new life and try not to worry, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Call me again if you need anything or if you just want to talk.”

“I will. Thank you again, Jordan.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Keep in touch.”

They rang off and Aunie sat for several despondent moments in the gathering gloom. Finally, she returned the phone to its resting place and rose to pull the drapes and turn on the lights. She bumped up the thermostat and retrieved from her purse the curriculum brochures she had picked up at the college. After briefly consulting a menu, she ordered room service; changed into a warm sweatshirt, leggings, and two pairs of socks; pulled the little writing table and a chair in front of the heat register, and sat down to read.

At her appointment with the college counselor earlier in the day, she had been warned that it was quite late to be registering for the fall quarter. One or two of the classes that interested her had already started this week and another class was full. Aunie had felt a bit discouraged, but the counselor had also offered hope. She had said it wasn’t uncommon for classes to be dropped in the first week, so there was still a very good possibility that Aunie could get the ones she desired. Sitting in her hotel room, she finished selecting her alternate choices and filled in the registration form to be returned to the school tomorrow.

Then she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her dinner was delivered and she ate it while watching the news on the television. Setting her tray out in the corridor, she wandered around the room, rechecking all its features. She scanned the pay movies listed inside the armoire that housed the television set. Nothing appealed to her. She picked up a paperback, tried to read, then threw it down on the nightstand next to the bed.

Crossing slowly to the window, she pulled back the curtain. It was dark now and her room boasted a panoramic view. Lights formed a cityscape that stretched out before her, and she watched the lighted windows of a ferry in Elliott Bay as it glided slowly toward town. She shivered in the cold emanating off the plate glass and dropped the curtain.

Picking up the evening paper, she read an article about a man who’d been arrested for making obscene phone calls to approximately a hundred women. The article also reported that in an unrelated case, the telephone company and the police were working together to track down a different caller responsible for placing an alarmingly high number of harrassing phone calls to female students at a local college. Aunie tossed the paper aside. She didn’t need to hear about other people’s troubles; she had enough of her own.

In her wanderings around the hotel room, she had avoided looking into any of the mirrors, but finally, she crossed over to one. Bracing her hands on the small built-in vanity, she slowly lifted her head.

All her life, she had heard how beautiful she was. Sometimes it had been a blessing; sometimes it had been a curse. However she viewed it, one thing was certain. The woman reflected in the mirror would surely never hear such compliments.

There had not been sufficient time for most of the swelling to go down. She had walked out of the hospital emergency room two days ago, closed her account at the bank, called a company to crate the few belongings she would eventually want shipped to her, packed as many herself as she could carry with her, and called the airlines for flight information. She hadn’t known exactly where she was going, but she’d felt the need to cover as much ground as possible while Wesley was still in jail. She only hoped he wasn’t paying private detectives to keep an eye on her while he was incarcerated. But, surely not. He hadn’t had time to arrange it.

Unless, of course, he hadn’t really dismissed the one he’d already had in his employ, as he’d told her he had. She wouldn’t put anything past him.

Leaving Jordan in charge of her stored belongings and of putting her house and car up for sale, she had caught a red-eye to Chicago. At O’Hare, she’d decided on Seattle as her final destination because it was far away from home and she didn’t know a soul there. Wesley would have no reason to assume that she was heading there. She had slipped into a women’s rest room and tried her best to change her appearance. It hadn’t been an easy task with her face in this condition: the swelling and discoloration made it conspicuous. Desperate to escape detection if she were being watched, she had explained her situation to a large group of businesswomen on their way to a seminar, and one of them had gone to purchase her ticket for her. They had then buried her in their midst, carrying her from the rest room to the gate of departure.

She didn’t recognize that face in the mirror. The contusions affected its shape, effectively disguising her much-lauded bone structure. There was a stitched tear in her left earlobe where Wesley had ripped out her pierced earring. Both eyes were blackened, but thankfully no longer swollen shut. Her nose had been broken, but the emergency room doctor had assured her that once the swelling went down, it should be good as new. Her lip was split; it, too, would mend. Her skin was eventually going to regain what had once been referred to by a suitor given to flowery compliments as its poreless, alabaster complexion. A gross exaggeration, that, but her complexion was the one physical attribute she took pride in, and anything would be an improvement over its current condition, which was a rainbow of hideous bruises, ranging the spectrum from dense purple to saffron yellow.

But, basically, the doctors had told her, her injuries were superficial. She was lucky, they had said. No other broken bones, no eye damage, no concussion to report, no lost teeth. After the fuss her mama had made in the emergency room, they’d rushed to assure her she would once again regain her former beauty. Those assurances had satisfied Mama, but left Aunie feeling quite ambivalent.

Because, sometimes, her looks had been a blessing.

But, sometimes, they had been a curse.

 

There was no place quite like the South for one to be a member of the impoverished gentility. Southerners for generations had been raising that condition to an art form and Aunie felt she could write a book on the subject, no research necessary. After all, she had firsthand experience as an only child in a family that was a poor relation to two venerable old Southern names.

Her daddy was L. Martin Franklin III, a dreamer in a family of overachievers. He was a vague, scholarly presence that barely made a ripple in her life. He cared only for his books and his projects, and his lack of business acumen was an accepted idiosyncrasy regarded by his family with the same half-amused, half-irritated tolerance that was accorded Uncle Asa’s drinking or Uncle Beau’s womanizing.

Her mama was a Pearlin—of the Savannah Pearlins? That was the way s. . .