The closer he got to the old house that had been his grandparents’, which had gone to Mitzi on their death, the better he could see that the Confederate jasmine was at war with the wisteria. He knew the jasmine would win out. Mitzi said it was an insidious plant. She claimed to have mutants. He knew little about plants, but he did know that he loved the scent.
Jake stopped the car before he got to the house, and a herd of animals raced toward him. He counted six dogs and five streaking cats that were hissing and snarling. A small goat named Annabelle brought up the rear. The only creature missing was Jezebel, the forty-five-year-old red and green parrot. He got out and let everyone sniff him before walking the rest of the way up to the house. Mitzi was standing on the verandah.
She waved and called a greeting. “Darlin’, it’s nice to see you again. You look terrible.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Jake said as he hugged his aunt. “What’s that smell?”
Mitzi laughed. “Sesame oil. I rubbed it all over to soften my wrinkles. I don’t think it works, but I’ll try anything once. Can I get you a beer?”
Jake looked around the verandah. The rockers were old, the fiber carpet just as old. Clay pots of summer flowers were everywhere. He liked coming here, sitting on the ratty rockers and talking to Mitzi with all the animals parading around, even the little goat who thought she was an indoor pet—which, in fact, she was. “What you can do is get me two beers and have three more standing by,” Jake said as he flopped down on his favorite rocker.
“That bad, huh?”
Jake sighed as one of the cats leaped onto his lap. Jezebel appeared out of nowhere and swooped across the porch to settle herself on his shoulder. He reached up to stroke the bird’s silky back as he looked up at the three paddle fans twirling overhead. “One of these days you’re going to get those tail feathers of yours singed, Jezzie.”
“Good boy, Jake,” the parrot squawked. “Jake is a good boy.”
“Damn straight on that, Jezzie.”
“Damn straight Jake is a good boy,” the parrot squawked again.
The screen door banged, and Mitzi appeared with a tray holding four bottles of beer. “Bottoms up, darlin’.”
Aunt and nephew chugged until the first bottle was empty. “Jezebel knows a hundred fifty words. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Yeah, amazing.”
“So you quit, eh? Told your father off in the bargain and kicked his butt out of Nola’s house. Guess the Wicked Witch of the Hill thought you’d kowtow to her. Now, you want to talk about amazing…that’s amazing!”
“How do you do that? Who called you? I know it wasn’t Pop, so it must have been Stacy or Jocelyn. Well?”
“Does it matter? No, it doesn’t. Now what are you going to do?”
“Damn good question, Mitzi. I don’t have a clue. Yes, I kicked my father’s ass out of Mom’s house. I can’t believe I did that.”
“You should have done it four years ago. It will be interesting to see if he moves up to the Hill. Tongues will certainly wag if that happens.” Mitzi held out one of her skinny legs to display the new tattoo on the bottom of her big toe. “What do you think? I got it last week. Now there’s a career if you care to branch out. So, Sarabess wanted you to find someone named Grace Finnegan. Imagine that.”
“You have to stop marking up your body, Mitzi. You can get a disease from a dirty needle. I knew it! You bugged my office. Who the hell is Grace Finnegan?”
“For your information, darlin’, the needle was clean. I made sure. I like the idea of a bumblebee on the bottom of my big toe. I have no idea who Grace Finnegan is. Maybe she’s one of Sarabess’s relatives.” Mitzi shrugged her bony shoulders, an indication she couldn’t care less who Grace Finnegan was.
“I know you have an opinion on everything, Mitzi, so tell me, why do you think Sarabess Windsor wants to find some strange woman? She said she wanted to make sure this Grace Finnegan was taken care of in her old age or something like that. I find it odd that she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s looking for her. That fact alone tells me the woman is up to something, and that something is not good. I offered to get her a private detective in Columbia, but she didn’t want any part of that. My guess is that she wants the attorney-client privilege. Why isn’t she using my father?”
Mitzi turned contortionist so she could better view the bumblebee on her toe. “I have no idea. Nary a clue, darlin’. Sounds to me like you’re going to look into it on your own, would be my guess. Are you going to move into the house?”
Mitzi’s abrupt changes of thought and verbiage made Jake nuts. He should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. “At some point I might. I was trying to make a point. Maybe I’ll move in here with you. Can I bring Elway?”
Mitzi roared with laughter. “Don’t push it, nephew. You’d go out of your mind in three days. Maybe two. But you’re more than welcome to take a shot at it.”
“I’m just talking to hear myself.” Jake thumped his empty beer bottle down on the table next to his chair.
“More beer! More beer!” Jezebel squawked.
“Is she smart or what?” Mitzi asked, getting up from the rocker. “How many, darlin’, to numb your pain?”
“Just keep bringing them till I tell you to stop. What the hell is going on, Mitzi? I think you know. Pop said you didn’t have the guts to write your memoirs. Because he pissed me off, I told him you were on chapter six. How come you didn’t mention anything about my visit to the Hendersons yesterday?”
Mitzi turned around in the doorway. “You went out to the Henderson farm? Why?”
“Hell, I don’t know why, I just did. I didn’t learn anything if that’s your next question. Sarabess didn’t want the Hendersons to report Trinity’s running away to the police. I guess she threatened Mr. Henderson with his job if he did. They buckled the way most people buckle when Sarabess issues an edict.”
The screen door slammed shut. One of the dogs nosed it open and held it so the other animals could scurry through, even the miniature goat. Jake wondered if Mitzi had taught the golden dog how to open the door. He looked up when Mitzi plopped an entire six-pack down in an ice bucket. “Go for it, nephew.”
“Are you telling me you didn’t know I went to the Hendersons?”
“No, Jake, I didn’t know. What did you hope to learn?”
“I wanted to know if Trinity has been in touch with them. Mrs. Henderson said Trinity sent a money order for the three hundred dollars she took when she ran away. There was no note, no message of any kind, but the envelope had a Pennsylvania postmark. I don’t know why I say this, but I don’t think Mrs. Henderson or her husband ever told Sarabess about that. I wish I had asked, but I didn’t, so it’s just a feeling I have.
“You know what, Mitzi? Mrs. Henderson didn’t act like any mother I’ve ever met. C’mon, Mitzi, tell me what you know.”
Mitzi stared across the balcony at the profusion of wisteria blooms. She looked to be in another place. Almost like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Jake jerked upright in the rocker. “What, Mitzi? Tell me.”
Mitzi turned around, tears in her eyes. “Trinity is Sarabess Windsor’s daughter. Lillian and John Henderson are not her real parents. Emily had aplastic anemia. The doctors here said there was nothing they could do for her. Sarabess wouldn’t accept that. She found out that if she had Harold’s baby, the bone marrow could be used to save Emily. That’s exactly what happened.
“The only thing I didn’t know at first was the identity of the father. When Sarabess left for New York and took Emily