Shades of Twilight

Certainly Gloria wasn’t sanguine about his return. It was hypocritical of her, Roanna thought, because before Jessie’s death Gloria had always made a point of fussing over Webb,

declaring him her favorite nephew. But then she’d made the mistake of turning on him instead of defending him, and she knew he hadn’t forgotten it.

"Where will he sleep?" Corliss drawled, interrupting her grandmother to throw another firebomb into the already volatile conversation.

"I’m not giving up the suite, even if it did used to be his."

It had the opposite effect of what she’d expected. Silence fell around the table. After Jessie’s death, Lucinda had eventually roused herself to have the suite completely redone, from the carpets to the ceilings. When Lanette and her family moved in, Corliss had immediately claimed the suite as her own, carelessly remarking that it didn’t bother her at all to sleep there. It was typical of her callousness that she could even think of Webb reclaiming his old quarters.

Nevertheless, Lucinda’s suite was the only one that equaled it in size. Gloria and Harlan occupied a smaller set of rooms, as did Lanette and Greg. Roanna’s room was just one room, a spacious one, but not a suite. Brock’s room was the same. There were four remaining single bedrooms. It was a picayune problem, but status was a subtle thing. Roanna knew Webb wasn’t fixated on it, but he did realize the implications and how to use the symbols of status in order to dominate.

"Even if he doesn’t want it, he may not like anyone else sleeping there," Lanette said, eyeing her daughter with a troubled expression.

Corliss scowled. "I’m not giving up my suite!"

"You will if Webb says you will," Lucinda said firmly.

"I doubt he’ll care, but I want it understood that what he says goes, without any argument. Is that clear?"

"No!" Corliss said petulantly, flinging her napkin to the table.

"He killed his wife! It isn’t fair that he can just waltz back in here and take over-" Lucinda’s voice cracked like a whip.

"Another thing I want understood is that Webb did not kill Jessie. If I hear such a thing mentioned again, I will ask the person who said it to leave this house immediately. We didn’t support him when he needed it most, and I’m deeply ashamed of myself. He will be welcomed back into his home, or I’ll know why." Silence followed this flat statement. To Roanna’s sure knowledge, this was the first time Lucinda had ever said anything about evicting any of the current residents of Davencourt. Family was so important to her that her threat demonstrated how strongly she felt about Webb’s return. For guilt or for love, or for both, Webb had her unqualified support.

Satisfied that her point had been taken, Lucinda daintily patted her napkin to her mouth.

"The bedroom situation is difficult. What do you think, Roanna?"

"Let Webb decide when he gets here," Roanna replied.

"We can’t anticipate what he’ll want."

"That’s true. It’s just that I want everything to be perfect for him."

"I don’t think that’s possible. He would probably prefer that we carry on as normal and not make a fuss."

"We’re hardly likely to throw a party," Gloria sniped.

"I can’t think what everyone in town is going to say."

"Nothing, if they know what side their bread is buttered on," Lucinda said.

"I’ll begin immediately making it clear to our friends and associates that if they value our continued friendship, they’ll make certain Webb is treated politely."

"Webb, Webb, Webb," Corliss said violently.

"What makes him so special? What about us? Why don’t you leave everything to Brock, if you’re so certain that Roanna can’t handle things? We’re just as much kin to you as Webb is!"

She jumped up and ran from the room, leaving silence behind. Even Gloria, who generally had the hide of a rhinoceros, looked uncomfortable at such a blatantly materialistic outburst. Roanna forced herself to eat one more bite before giving up the effort. It looked as if Webb’s "welcome" was going to be even more strained than his departure had been.

1.75

Ten days later, Webb walked in the front door as if he owned the place, which to all intents and purposes he did.

It was eight o’clock in the morning, and the sunlight poured brilliantly through the windows, giving the cream colored tiles in the foyer a mellow golden glow. Roanna. was just coming down the stairs. She had a nine o’clock meeting with their broker, who was driving in from Huntsville, and was going to go over the particulars with Lucinda prior to the broker’s arrival. She had already dressed for the meeting, in a summer-weight peach silk sheath with a matching tunic jacket, and afterward she was scheduled for a county commissioner’s meeting. Beige snakeskin pumps were on her feet, and creamy pearl earrings dangled from her ears. She seldom wore jewelry other than her wristwatch, but her sorority sisters had taught her the value of wearing good, understated pieces for business occasions.

The front door opened, and she paused on the stairs, momentarily blinded by the dazzling sunlight reflected on the polished tiles. She blinked at the dark figure whose wide shoulders and wide-brimmed hat filled most of the doorway. Then he stepped inside and closed the door, letting a leather satchel drop to the floor, and her heart nearly stopped as realization dawned.

it had been ten days since he’d sent her home, and he hadn’t sent advance word of his arrival. She had begun to fear that he wouldn’t come after all, though Webb had always kept his word before. Maybe he’d decided the Davenports weren’t worth the trouble; she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.

But he was here, taking off his hat and looking around with narrowed eyes as if assessing the changes made during the gap of ten years. They were few, but she had the feeling he noted every one. His gaze even lingered momentarily on the carpet that covered the stairs. When he’d left, it had been beige; now it was oatmeal, with a thicker and tighter weave.