The Mulberry Tree Read online

  Carol said that she had made a pot roast for dinner. “But what do I serve before and after?” she wailed.

  The camera went to Carla, who said, “I know, Mom. How about using those preserves you bought at the grocery?”

  The next scene was played in double time, with Carla in the kitchen, dressing her mother (her pulling panty hose on was hilarious), while Carol opened jars from the Mulberry Tree Preserving Company and made a beautiful plate of hors d’oeuvres. The youngest daughter took a frozen pound cake from the freezer and poured a jar of marinated cherries on top of it.

  The camera slowed down to show a beautifully coiffed and dressed Carol (three hours with Opal, under Arleen’s direction) serving hors d’oeuvres to her husband’s boss and his wife (Mr. Shelby and Arleen, who was wearing Chanel). The last scene was the two couples sitting at the dining table, finishing the cake. The boss turned to Alex and said, “You get the promotion and the raise.”

  When the commercial was over, Patsy grabbed the remote, turned the set off, and looked at everyone. “Well?” she said.

  Rick started the applause, then everyone joined in. Matt got the bottles of champagne out of the refrigerator and filled glasses. “To the Mulberry Tree Preserving Company,” he said, and everyone drank.

  Laughing, they went outside to the food, dissecting every aspect of the commercial. But Bailey hung back and found Matt alone in the kitchen.

  “Did you like it?” she asked. “Really like it?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “It was great. It got your point across, and it was funny. You couldn’t ask for more.”

  “What would you change?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I wouldn’t change anything.”

  They were alone in the house. “Matt, I’m sorry about lately. It seems that—”

  Bending, he kissed her on the nose. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.” He went back into the living room and picked up the remote, Bailey right behind him. “You mind if I catch the news?”

  “You mean the football scores, don’t you?”

  Matt smiled. “You’re beginning to know me too well.”

  “Maybe not well enough,” she said, and looked him hard in the eyes.

  Matt’s smile grew warmer. “How about another glass of that wine, and maybe we could—”

  “Snuggle down and watch an old movie?” she asked.

  “Certainly snuggle down,” he said, smiling back at her.

  “Two glasses of champagne coming up,” Bailey said, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  When Bailey returned, the news was on, and when she heard the name “Manville,” she halted, standing behind the couch, a glass of champagne in each hand.

  A woman on the news was crying. “They’ve closed the plant,” she was saying. “And I have three kids to support and no job.”

  The newscaster looked back at the camera and said, “This is just one of many plants and factories that Atlanta and Ray Manville have shut down in the last few weeks.”

  When Bailey gasped, Matt turned to glance at her, but her eyes were on the TV.

  “The Manvilles have put Wall Street in a turmoil as they dump stocks, sell everything that once made up the empire of multibillionaire James Manville, and turn it into cash.”

  On the screen was Ray, surrounded by reporters and furious people who’d lost their jobs. He was flanked by three bodyguards and four lawyers as they pushed their way through the crowd. Ray stopped in front of one microphone. “My little brother knew how to run all these businesses, but my sister and I don’t. We’re just simple country people, so we’re selling up and getting out,” Ray said, then started pushing again.

  “But what about all the people you’re putting out of work?” the reporter asked.

  “They’d be out of work when we went bankrupt, wouldn’t they?” Ray snapped at the man.

  As Ray got into a waiting limo, the camera went back to the reporter. “It’s been estimated that Atlanta and Ray Manville have so far collected one-point-four billion—that’s billion—dollars in cash. And where are they putting their dollars? Not in an American bank. Since the accidental drowning of James Manville’s former attorney, Phillip Waterman, yesterday—”

  That’s when Bailey dropped the glasses of champagne on the floor, and when she stood there in frozen silence, her eyes wide and staring, Matt came around the couch and led her to sit down. He was listening to the TV, but he was watching Bailey.

  “—the business liquidations have doubled,” the reporter continued. “No one knows the reasons behind these sales—and especially not the reason for the speed. Back to you, Nancy.”

  In the newsroom, behind the heads of the two anchor-people, was a photo of the late James Manville and his wife, and the reporter was speculating on where his widow was now. “Could she have prevented this, Chuck?” the woman was saying. “If his wife of sixteen years had stayed and fought, would this be happening now?”

  Suddenly everything in Bailey’s mind started spinning, and the walls seemed to be closing in on her. She slumped forward and would have hit the floor if Matt hadn’t caught her. He picked her up in his arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom.

  “Is she okay?” he heard Carol ask from behind him.

  “Fine,” Matt said, trying to keep his voice calm. “She dropped the glasses and cut her hand, and she’s a little faint. We’ll be out in a minute.”

  “I’ll clean it up, and if you need anything, let us know,” Carol called through the door.

  Matt put Bailey on the bed, then went to the bathroom to get a cloth soaked in cold water. Sitting down by her on the bed, he put the cool cloth on her forehead.

  Instantly Bailey tried to sit up, but Matt pushed her back down. “Get hold of yourself. Calm down. Don’t let them see that you’re upset, or they’ll ask questions.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what you mean. I—”

  Matt wiped her face with the cold cloth. “James Manville is your Jimmie, isn’t he? I recognized you in the photo. Your face is thinner now, and your nose is different, but it was you.”

  When she hesitated, Matt said, “Don’t even think of lying to me! There were so many odd things about you, like how you don’t know how to do simple things, like order from a catalog, yet you’ve been all over the world. And you—Anyway, I knew you’d either been isolated in some rich prison or— Truthfully, I couldn’t come up with an answer to explain what you were like. All I’ve known is that you have one really big secret.”

  “And now what do you plan to do about it?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Hit you up for a loan,” he said.

  “I don’t— Oh, I see. That was a joke.”

  “A bad one. Is the Phillip who drowned the same man who paid for cleaning and clearing this place?”

  As that memory flooded back to her, Bailey put the back of her hand to her mouth. “Phillip. He’s Carol’s husband. The girls’ father. Oh, Matt, she doesn’t know. She’s been angry at him because he’s been working such long hours, so I don’t think he knows she’s here. Knew,” Bailey said, and tears came to her eyes.

  “Stop it!” Matt said, his hands on her shoulders. “You can’t do this. Who was the call from, the one in the middle of the night?”

  “It was Phillip,” Bailey said, choking back tears. “He was warning me about . . . I can’t think. He was warning me about something, but I can’t remember what.”

  “Since you’ve been here, you’ve been asking a lot of questions of everyone. Why?”

  “Jimmie asked me—I mean, he left me a note with his will. He wanted me to find out what happened.”

  “Happened about what?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just—” She broke off as she opened her bedside table drawer and removed her address book. Stuck between the pages was the note that Phillip had given her.

  Matt took the note and read it. “What does this mean? He wants you to find out the truth about what?”

  “I don’t