Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lunch was grilled tuna fish sandwiches and tomato soup.
Barbara insisted it was her turn to feed Emerald, which was fine with me.
I had no real desire to end up covered in spit out Gerber baby food.
Bev and Barbara had brought a selection of baby food for Emerald to try: apple, pear, sweet potato, peas.
I was eating my lunch as quickly as I could to avoid the coming disaster.
Barbara had mentioned an article about the intelligence failures that led to the Bush administration claiming there were weapons of mass destruction when there weren’t.
That was not a great topic. Nana Cole bristled, and said, “People need to stop talking about that. I’m sure they had good reasons to invade Iraq.
For security reasons, they just can’t tell us. ”
That led to an uncomfortable pause. It was pretty na?ve, and certainly something she would never say about a Democrat.
Finally, Barbara said, “Oh my, she certainly doesn’t like peas.” Emerald had just spit a spoonful all over herself, the high chair and even the table. “I’ll try something else.”
Bev steered the discussion away from politics by asking, “Have you been watching The Apprentice?”
This was the perfect question. Nana Cole loved The Apprentice—or rather she loved to complain about it.
“Trump wants the women to win because they’re pretty. Typical man,” Nana Cole said. “But they really should give the guys a chance. Otherwise, it’s simply not fair.”
“It’s reality TV,” I said. “Of course, it’s not fair. It’s meant to be dramatic, not fair. It’s meant to make you mad. Otherwise, no one would watch.”
“I couldn’t get through a whole episode,” Barbara said. “He’s such a blowhard. Men like that are just awful.”
“Someone that successful is entitled to a few rough edges,” my grandmother said.
“Is he that successful?” Bev asked. “I read that he’s a rich kid who got handed all his money. And he really hasn’t done anything but lose it.”
“That’s not what they say on the show,” Nana Cold said. “They wouldn’t hire him to do the show if he weren’t a self-made man.”
I made a mental note that conversations about TV shows could be as challenging as conversations about politics, and segued into Nana Cole’s favorite topic: gossip.
“Tell me what you know about the Campbells.”
“Bunch of drunks, going right back to the start. That’s why they lost everything,” my grandmother said, then added, “Scottish, but you’d think they were Irish the way they drink.”
“Did you hear anything about a lawsuit?”
“Well… she was suing that winery. You know all—”
“Other lawsuits. Bobbie was suing her son and her cousin because they got her to sign over her share of the property.”
“Really?” Barbara said. “That’s terrible.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Nana Cole said. “Those cousins are tight. They probably ganged up on her.”
“How many are there, exactly?”
“There are Campbells all over the place,” Bev said. “But there are still five on that original property. Bobbie’s boy, Buford, Andy, Harlan and Dill.”
More suspects.
“Buford had a crush on your mother all through school,” Nana Cole said.
“He looks like he’s ten years older than she is.”
“You saw him?”
“Yeah,” I said, not really understanding why that was a big deal. “Twice. I mean, he just opened the door a crack.”
“That’s more than he does for most people.”
“He’s agoraphobic,” Bev explained. “People haven’t seen him in years.”
“How can you be agoraphobic in Masons Bay? No one delivers.” I got a lot of stares. Well, it was a practical question.
“His cousins bring him everything he needs.”
I stood up suddenly. I was only halfway through my sandwich and hadn’t even touched the soup, but I couldn’t help myself. I said, “I need to run an errand. I won’t be long.” And then I left the house as quickly as possible.