“I have cancer,” Agnes announced. She hadn’t been able to contain her rage after all. She didn’t expect it to come out that way—it just had. Her hands rose to the sides of her rib cage, a gesture left over from when there had been drains there.
“You got the flowers we sent?” He’d been coming straight toward her but stopped, as if she’d announced a contagion.
“Probably. Did I write a note?”
He laughed. “Probably! How did this happen, though?” He shifted gears, stepped closer to her, looked her in the eye, and asked—intimately, wittily—“Have you been smoking, Cousin Nessie?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice!”
“Yes. I’d love to myself. I always say I’ll pick it up again at eighty. But you are eighty!”
“And now I’m saying I’ll start at ninety.”
“Oh, is that how it goes? I don’t know if I’ll last that long.”
“That makes two of us.”
His face crumpled. A little boy again.
“Oh come on, Archie, if you can’t laugh at death, what can you laugh at?” She gave him a light punch on the arm.
“I’ll be lucky to live to the age you are now,” he said awkwardly.
“Yes. It is fortunate. Everything becomes very clear.”
“But you still feel young, don’t you?”
“Are you kidding? I feel old as the hills and twice as dusty, as my mother would say.”
“You better come see the view immediately, in that case.” He hovered his hand under her elbow and moved her forward.
His living room was too tasteful, too clean, too decorated, too self-aware, too beige. He hadn’t lived like that during the reign of his first wife, who’d been as slapdash as all the Lees and had fit in easily at WesterLee. If only Archie could have kept his hands to himself and her, Robert would be at Fellowship Point, doing his chores. But no. Seela had taken over and hired decorators, a rarity in houses where all the furnishings were antediluvian. Archie’s old pieces were back at WesterLee, while here reigned the new. Coral pillows, turquoise throws over sofa arms, against a landscape of beige and what Seela had educated Agnes was called “greige.” Looking at it, Agnes could have fallen asleep standing up. Seela had told her on another visit that her decorator claimed beige was the classiest color, a phrasing that repudiated the statement. “I always think of beige as more a backdrop than a color,” Agnes said, and realized she’d hit on the point. The décor of EasterLee was a backdrop for Seela, who tended to wear beige as well, her house and clothes the equivalent of a jeweler’s cushion where she displayed her tightened face and bedazzled ears, neck, and hands. “It’s so easy to redecorate and introduce variety,” she’d said, in awe of her own ingenuity. “All I do is add splashes of color.” If only Seela knew how funny that was, Agnes might forgive her for her unassailable good taste. As it was, Agnes wanted to assail her, especially now.
Agnes’s sweeping gaze made a spot inventory of all the Lee family heirlooms in the room. There wasn’t much. The old Philadelphia Chippendale had appalled Seela. Agnes had divested herself of hers, too, but that was her choice, and it had landed in good homes. She hoped Archie’s had gone straight to his likable children, though apparently the youth wanted pale wood now. Agnes certainly understood that.
“We’ve just had everything redone,” he said, pointing his hand around. “I know you’re thinking it looks the same, but the materials are far better.”
“Diamond dust?”
“Costs as much. The fur of rare goats.” He nodded at his furniture, as if the pieces were the peoples of his kingdom.
“The fur of rare goats. That would make a great book title.”
“You may have it. Or should I ask for a share in the royalties? Your girl—what’s her name?”
“Nan.”
“—has done well, hasn’t she? She could use a stint as a goat farmer.”
“There’s an idea.” Agnes couldn’t venture into public without being told what Nan should do next.
“How many more are you going to write anyway?”
“I have no plans to stop working, if that’s what you mean. I’ll go until the clock runs out.”
“Of course you will.” He grinned at her with their old familiarity. “I am happy to see you, Cousin. As I always say, no one is like you. But tell me straight out—is this a social visit, or have we matters to discuss?”
“A bit of both. But I come as an ally.”
“I know that.” He saw her over the raised marble threshold between indoors and out. “Come. This will make you happy.”
She stepped out, and immediately she noticed a wind that hadn’t been apparent on the other side of the house. Her heart lifted, in spite of her mission, at the sight of how straight and high the old firs stood among the branching oaks and silver birches. They created a carefully groomed natural frame for a view out to the untamed ocean. Today the water was navy blue and rippling. The terrace hung over a garden that perfumed the air. She gave in to it and deeply inhaled the rich scent.
“Beautiful,” she pronounced.
“We think so.”
We. She despised couples who referred to themselves as a unit. Polly, who thought as a we, nevertheless always said Dick and I. So much better. “Is Seela here?” She glanced around.
“She’s out.”
“That’s fine. It’s best we speak alone, I think.”
“Come look over this way.” He pointed. “Our new garden,” he said. “It’s going to be all white.”
“Like Sissinghurst.”
“Ha! Cousin, you never fail to know everything.”
They settled into chairs far more comfortable than any outdoor furniture she’d ever encountered. A sigh escaped her. “So this is what it’s like to be comfortably rich.”
“Ha, yes! Who knew comfortable furniture even existed?”
Nora O’Connor appeared.
“Coffee or tea? Water?” Archie asked. “Something stronger?”
Agnes thought of the drive back and guessed she’d better resist. She didn’t want to ask to use Archie’s toilet again. “No, thank you. I won’t be long.”
“Iced tea for me, thank you, Nora,” Archie said. She vanished abruptly.
“Then let’s get to it.” Archie shifted to business mode. “I’m very confused, I must say, by what happened with Robert.” Archie looked down at his hands, his brow furrowed. “I always trusted Hiram. And I have liked Robert, too. He has been an excellent designer and gardener in general. I’d never have expected him to do anything like this. But here we are.”
Agnes felt a flash of rage. “Here we are. Robert’s in jail.”
“Yes, true. I feel sick about it, actually. But Seela caught him red-handed, and then—well, it was awful.”
Agnes gripped her fingers into tight fists. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
“Yes, yes, first things first.” Nora arrived with the tea, and he took it from her and had a sip. “Thank you, it’s delicious. Perfect amount of mint.”