The houses on Thornberry Lane near the outskirts of Baton
Rouge were always the main draw on the Historical Tour for
tourists. No one could explain why or how a cul-de-sac
with just five houses could be called a lane or why, since
it was outside of the town's historic district, it was on
the tour. Some speculated it was because the Lane family
owned three of the houses on Thornberry Lane. Others said
it was because it was like an oasis, with each house
sitting on a full acre of land with an enormous bed of
flowers in the middle. Whatever it was, everyone in Baton
Rouge agreed Thornberry Lane was the most beautiful sight
they'd ever seen.
Gawkers and tourists aside, Baton Rougies, as some
referred to themselves, were loyal to three of the
inhabitants of Thornberry Lane. Not so to the inhabitants
of the two houses on the end that belonged to the Gunn
family. Outsiders, they said, nouveau riche, others said.
The truth was that when Marcus Gunn was finally on the
verge of being accepted by the Rougies, thanks to the Lane
sisters, he up and married his second wife, Bella. The
Rougies and the Lane sisters closed ranks, and it was a
greased downhill slide forMarcus Gunn and his new wife.
The Junior Leaguers, along with the members of the Garden
Club, Historical Society, and Rotary sniffed that Bella's
shady past -- which they were convinced included an out-of-
wedlock child, something no amount of digging and
searching could prove -- her bleached hair, her pancake
makeup, her faux jewelry, not to mention her hoity-toity
attitude, would be a disgrace to the Rougies. And, the
Rougies whispered, she was twenty-five years younger than
Marcus, which could mean only one thing. Bella was a gold
digger and after Marcus's money, of which there was
plenty. She was no stepmother to Marcus's three children,
they said. Wicked stepmother was more like it, they hissed
among themselves after they said over and over, "Those
poor children; thank God for the Lane sisters and the love
they showed the children."
The Lane sisters could attest to that fact, and they did,
every chance they got. They fed and took care of the three
children as much as was allowed. Bella didn't care as long
as they weren't, as she put it, under her feet.
The final consensus on Bella Gunn was that she was not
only white trash, she was tacky as well. That particular
statement probably had something to do with the fact that
Bella wore a tiara to church services on Sunday morning.
Lydia Lane, oldest of the Lane sisters, and known to
friends and family as Dodo, stepped out onto her flower-
bedecked veranda and stared across the wide acre of
rainbow plantings and cobblestone paths that led out to
the street and the main road. She cringed the way she
always did when her gaze settled on the two Gunn houses
situated at the ends of the horseshoe-shaped lane. They
were a blight on the landscape. A deliberate blight,
thanks to Bella Gunn. And there was nothing she or her
sisters could do about it.
Dodo stared at the rotting wood, the broken windows,
sagging verandas, doors hanging on one hinge, and the
dilapidated steps that were a danger to any child wishing
to explore haunted houses. Every night she prayed that the
buildings would collapse or that lightning would strike
them. What she was looking at was all the result of Bella
Gunn's being denied entrance to the Christmas tour. Bitter
and angry over the Rougies' refusal to accept her, she'd
deliberately allowed the two Gunn houses in the shoe to
fall into their present condition. That, and her hatred of
the three Lane sisters, who were on the selection
committee for the Christmas tour.
Not more than an hour ago, Mary Ellen Prentice had called
and said she'd heard from Emma Rangley, who heard from the
Baptist minister's own lips that Bella had said in a fit
of pique that the reason she was denied entrance to the
tour was because of the location of the house she'd
designed on the outskirts of town. Now Bella was going to
concentrate on the houses in the shoe and reapply.
According to Emma, Bella's parting shot had been, "They
won't dare turn down a house in the shoe, much less two
houses in the shoe."
Just watch me turn you down. There's a young man and his
family that belongs here in the shoe, by right of
inheritance, not by trickery and chicanery the way Bella
was doing. A young man and his family she'd give up all
she held dear to know again.
Shielding her eyes from the bright sun, Dodo whistled
between her teeth the way a small boy would to attract a
friend's attention. Her sister Vivian, better known as
Diddy, banged the screen door of her house, which was
opposite Dodo's, and waddled over to the veranda
railing. "What? Why can't you use the phone like other
people do when you want to speak with me? It's not
ladylike to whistle between your teeth, Dodo." She was
breathless as she, too, leaned on the railing.
The skinny little woman with the spiked hair waved her
sister's comment aside. "I swear this is the worst day of
my life. I should have killed that woman or, at the very
least, pushed her into that grave yesterday. But no, you
had to stop me!"
Diddy Lane's plump cheeks flushed crimson. "No Lane has
ever been in trouble with the law. I wouldn't do well
visiting you in prison, and that's where you would have
gone if you had done that. If it's any consolation to you,
Dodo, I wanted to do the same thing. We're ladies, and
ladies do not go around pushing people into open graves. I
just wish . . . Lord, I wish so many things, but mainly I
wish Marcus hadn't had that last stroke. He's so out of it
he doesn't have a clue as to what is going on. Bella calls
the shots these days. Then again, she's been doing that
forever, it seems, so I guess it's not new at all. It's
just so sad that someone as vital as Marcus could be
felled like this."
Dodo looked down from the railing at a border of begonias
that were so lush and colorful they looked like they'd
been painted on the cobblestones lining the house. "And
where is that wayward sister of ours? She loved Russell as
much as we did. She said she would be at the funeral. She
wasn't there! I'll tell you where she is, she's probably
out lollygagging with some young stud forty years her
junior," she said vehemently.
Diddy's plump cheeks flushed again. "At least she does her
lollygagging off scene in New Orleans. Oh, God! There she
is! Would you look at her!"
Dodo reared back as her sister Harriet, known to her
sisters -- and those in town who still remembered her --
as Ducky, stepped out of the stretch limousine. She wore a
dress that resembled gossamer, or maybe a thousand sheer
hankies sewn together, draped on her voluptuous frame. A
wide lacy straw hat, with real flowers and satin ribbons
trailing down the sides and back, adorned her head.
Outrageous designer sunglasses finished off her look.
Ducky never wore anything that didn't carry a designer's
name on it. A purse as big as a suitcase was the only
thing she carried. She was boohooing behind the dark
glasses as she made her way up one of the cobblestone
paths that led to her sisters' houses. The stylish, pointy-
toed, backless heels made it a difficult task. Both
sisters watched as their sister kicked them off. One
landed in the middle of the begonias, and the other
settled atop one of the oleander bushes.
Both Dodo and Diddy pursed their mouths at the
sight. "Such a lady," Diddy muttered.
The wayward, free-spirit sister removed her sunglasses to
see her siblings better. What she saw made her say, "Oh,
will you two stuff it already. And before you can ask me
where I was, I was attending to business, and as much as I
tried, I just couldn't get back in time. I feel awful."
Ducky met Diddy by the steps, and together they walked up
them to Dodo's house. "I take it our niece isn't here yet.
How are we going to handle all this?" Ducky asked as she
quickly bussed each sister on the cheek.
Dodo, a martial arts expert in her prime, pivoted on the
balls of her feet before she smacked one hand into the
other. "Very carefully," Dodo responded. "I was just
telling Diddy I think this is one of the worst days in my
life. Darby," she said, "is devastated. She's blaming
herself, which is silly, but what can you expect? Russell
was her best friend since they were three years old. Why
am I telling you something you already know?" she dithered.
The Lane sisters looked at one another. Dodo, age seventy-
two, Diddy, age seventy, and Ducky, age sixty-nine, a hair
away from seventy, were suddenly squabbling like teenagers
as they started to blame one another for their niece's
trip to Scotland.
Diddy drew herself up to her full five feet and glared at
her sisters. "Tell me, how does one tell one's niece, who,
by the way, is thirty-three years old, that she shouldn't
travel outside the country. She went on business. Darby
does what she wants when she wants. We are not her
wardens, Ducky. Is that a nightgown you're wearing?" she
sniped.
Ducky hitched up the front of her gossamer dress. "No, it
is not a nightgown. It's the latest in fashion. I bought
it in Paris two months ago. It certainly beats that . . .
that . . . whatever it is you're wearing, Diddy. As for
you, Dodo, give up the ninja crap already and dress like a
female." Exhausted with her little speech, Ducky sent her
straw hat sailing across the veranda. It landed with
precision on one of the wicker chairs. She then strode
barefoot across the grass-green carpet and sat down on the
swing. "Sit! Sit already. We need to make a plan here.
Refreshments would be nice."
"Yes, they would," Dodo said as she sat down on the swing
next to her sister. It was obvious to both sisters that
there would be no refreshments forthcoming.
Ducky reached for one of the fans hanging off the arm of
the swing. She started to fan her perspiring face. Fans
hanging off chairs and swings on front porches was a
Southern thing. "Now, I want you two to tell me what the
hell happened to that darling boy Russell."
Diddy glowered at her fashionable-looking baby sister. "He
died, is what happened," she snarled. A second later she
burst into tears.
"And then they . . . they . . . they donated his organs.
Every single one that was . . . donatable," Dodo said as
she dabbed at her own eyes. "They buried a shell of
Russell. Everything was gone, his eyes, his heart, his
lungs, his liver . . ."
Ducky stopped fanning herself to stare at her stuttering
sister. "I'm getting the picture, Dodo. An organ donor has
to be an exceptional kind of person. Russell was young and
athletic. I'm sure his organs were in . . . excellent
condition. How did the accident happen?"
Dodo jumped up and started wringing her hands. "Do you
want the truck driver's version or do you want Bella's
version?"
"Both," Ducky snapped. She started fanning herself again.
Diddy whipped a wad of tissues out of her pocket and
proceeded to shred them. "The truck driver said Russell
veered across the yellow line and hit him head-on. He said
he couldn't stop in time. It was one of those eighteen-
wheelers, and it happened on a main highway. Bella's
version is that Russell committed suicide. I don't believe
that for one minute, and neither does anyone else.
Something was wrong with the brakes of his car, according
to the police. For some reason he was driving his
girlfriend Claire's car. Russell was looking forward to
Darby's return. As a matter of fact, he was supposed to
meet Darby in Atlanta, then they were going to visit
friends and drive home together. Does that sound to you
like someone who was contemplating suicide?"
A small brown bird flew onto the porch before it settled
in one of the luscious green ferns hanging from the
ceiling. A second bird flew straight to the fern and
settled down between the thick fronds. "They have a nest
in there," Dodo said inanely.
The bright, sunny day beyond the front porch suddenly
dimmed as gray clouds from the south moved across the
summer blue sky. The scent of new-mown grass was like a
heady aphrodisiac. Ducky eyed her sisters as they seemed
to shrink into themselves.
Dodo started to pace the green carpet. The black-felt
slippers she favored, to go with her ninja wear, made
scratching sounds that grated on the ears. She bent down
to pluck a yellowing leaf from one of the straw baskets
full of yellow Gerber daisies that lined the veranda and
steps. She tossed it over the railing.
"Marcus should have known his own son's wishes as well as
Bella. They didn't bury Russell because there was nothing
left to bury but his bones. What I mean is they buried
Russell but not all of Russell. God, I don't know what I
mean. Now that Darby has inherited all of Russell's money -
- which, by the way, is a dizzying amount -- do you think
she might finally settle down and buy a house of her own?
She wouldn't have to travel so much with her little
business and could go the catalog route the way a lot of
small businesses do. Being a home owner is almost a full-
time job, don't you think?" When no one responded to the
question, Dodo sat down cross-legged on the porch,
dropping her head into her hands.
Just then the rain started to fall, and Ducky
said, "Refreshments would be really nice right now."
Dodo turned to look at her sister to see if she was dying
of thirst. Satisfied that she wasn't about to expire, she
said, "The door's open, fetch it yourself. And, while
you're about it, bring something for Diddy and me."
"Feisty, aren't we?" Ducky said, getting up from the
swing. "As a hostess you are sorely lacking, Dodo." She
swished her way to the front door, her hankie dress
clinging to her voluptuous curves.
Diddy walked over to the railing to stare out at the rain,
which was coming down like a waterfall. "We need the
rain," she said vaguely. "I think you should have thinned
out the begonias, Dodo. I love the shell pink color. My
lavender ones are just as pretty, don't you think?"
"Shut up, Diddy. I'm not in the mood to discuss rain or
begonias. That girl is going to have a nervous breakdown
when she gets here. I have a terrible feeling she's at the
cemetery. Why would she go there? Tomorrow would be soon
enough. Do you think that's where she is?"
"Yes. I just didn't want to say it out loud. Maybe we
should go and get her," Diddy mumbled.
"Maybe we shouldn't. If she wanted us to go with her, she
would have come here first. I thought Ben or Mary would
have stopped by today." Ben and Mary were Russell's
siblings.
The screen door creaked as Ducky elbowed it, a tray in her
hands. Three glasses and three bottles of beer, along with
a flower in a bud vase and monogrammed linen napkins,
graced the tray.
The Lane sisters were beer drinkers in part because of the
family-owned business, which was a brewery that
distributed beer worldwide.
The sisters clinked their glasses together, their eyes wet
and somber.
"Diddy and I think Darby went to the cemetery. She's
probably sitting in the rain and the mud crying. We should
have gone to get her. Why didn't we do that?"
"Because she wants to be alone with her friend. If she
even went there," Ducky said as she licked the top of the
beer bottle. She seemed surprised that it was empty.
Dodo, who was sitting in a yoga position on the green
carpet, unwrapped her skinny legs and entered the house.
She returned with three more bottles of beer. She handed
one to each of her sisters. All three proceeded to swig
directly from the bottles.
The rain continued to cascade from the heavens. The birds
in the fern overhead chirped their displeasure as all
three sisters' hair started to frizz up from the mist
sweeping across the veranda.
"Maybe Darby isn't going to come back here," Diddy said.
Dodo scoffed at the remark. "She has to come back here.
This is where her family is."
"Let's face it. Maybe she went to a motel so she wouldn't
have to endure all the clucking we'd do over her," Ducky
snapped. "She's smart, that niece of ours."
As was their custom when the three of them were together,
Diddy lined up the empty beer bottles. She finished her
beer with one huge gulp and plopped it down at the end of
the line. "I'm going, I'm going. I know it's my turn.
Don't talk about anything till I get back. One each or two
each?"
"Two," Ducky and Dodo said in unison. Diddy trotted off to
complete her mission.
"This is our personal wake for Russell," Ducky said. "I
can't believe that snot Bella didn't invite us to the
official one. I don't care for myself, but it was so tacky
of her. The whole town must be talking this to death." She
sniffed to show what she thought about that particular
statement.
The rain continued, the birds in the fern kept protesting,
the empty beer bottles continued to line up as the sisters
sat glumly on the veranda, each worried about what she
would do when their niece finally arrived.
It was dusk when the hard, driving rain turned into a
steady downpour. The sisters were bleary-eyed but
unwilling to enter the house. All three of them refrained
from looking at the mountain of empty beer bottles Diddy
had tossed into an old bushel basket. "We should eat
something. I don't think Darby is coming back tonight."
"What would you suggest?" Dodo asked.
Ducky ran her hands through her frizzy hair, trying to
flatten it. A useless struggle. "This is your house, isn't
it? You're supposed to play hostess even if you don't feel
like it. You must have something in your refrigerator. No
bean sprouts or any of those weeds you insist on eating."
"I never did like you, Ducky, so don't go telling me what
to do." It wasn't true. All their lives they'd snapped and
snarled at one another just to make their lives a little
more interesting. It was how they communicated, and none
of the three took the comments seriously. The only thing
they never argued about or were at odds over was their
niece, Darby.
Darby had come to them from the East at the age of three
when her parents died prematurely within months of each
other, their brother, Germaine, keeling over on the golf
course from a heart attack, and dying on the way to the
hospital. A month later, his wife, Ann Marie, unable to
cope with a child and the loss of her husband, stepped
right in front of a car and was killed instantly.
How she wished Gerry were here now. He'd always been their
shining light, older by three years and never embarrassed
that he had three sisters trailing after him. They'd been
such good friends, advisers to each other. Even now, all
these years later, the three of them talked of Gerry
constantly. What would Gerry think, what would Gerry do?
So long ago, Dodo thought sadly. They'd raised Darby as
their own, and no child anywhere in the universe could
have asked for better stand-in moms, as she referred to
them.
"How about peanut butter and jelly? We'll have to use
spoons because I don't have any bread."
Diddy pursed her lips. "How will peanut butter and jelly
settle in our stomachs with all the beer we drank earlier?"
"That's a very good question, Diddy. My God, it's humid.
All right, I'll take the bean sprouts," Ducky said as she
again started to fan herself. "The mosquitoes are starting
to come out. Should we adjourn indoors?"
Dodo was saved from a reply when she noticed headlights
turning into the narrow driveway that was shared by all
five houses on Thornberry Lane. "I think she's here, but
it doesn't look like her Jeep."
In the blink of an eye, the sisters were at the railing at
the top of the steps straining to see into the early
twilight.
"It's Ben Gunn!" Diddy said.
"Lord, he's holding up Darby! My God, what's wrong with
her?" Ducky squawked. "Did you ever see such a handsome
young man?" she added as an afterthought. "She's barefoot."
"So are you, so what's the big deal. My God, she's covered
with mud. Look at her hair. That's her favorite yellow
linen dress. It's ruined," Dodo said, flapping her arms up
and down.
At the foot of the steps, Ben Gunn looked up, and
said, "Ladies, I'm bringing your niece home. She could
probably use a nice warm shower."
Diddy eyed the handsome young man holding up her niece
with suspicion. "She looks like she's drunk!"
"That too. I found her at the cemetery drinking from a
whiskey bottle. She bought it for . . . Russ in Scotland.
At one of those duty-free shops," he clarified.
Darby was like a rag doll, her legs buckling, as Ben Gunn
tried to transfer his hold on her to her aunts. It wasn't
working. "Why don't I take her upstairs to the bathroom
and just put her in the shower. If you're up to it, you
could make some coffee."
"There will be none of that, young man!" Diddy said
imperiously. You make the coffee, and we'll see that our
niece gets to the shower." Ben shrugged his broad
shoulders.
The transfer was made, albeit sloppily, as the three
sisters pushed, dragged, and shoved their niece up the
long circular staircase. Ben watched until they were out
of sight before he made his way to the kitchen. He knew
where everything was. As a child, he'd virtually lived in
one of the three houses on Thornberry Lane, along with his
brother, Russell, and his sister, Mary. The good old days.
The happiest days of his life.
While the coffee dripped, Ben sat down, his long legs
stretched out in front of him. He looked around. It was
the same kitchen he remembered but with updated
appliances. He'd done his homework at the round oak table.
He'd eaten cookies and had milk at the same table, along
with Russ, Mary, and Darby. He'd eaten so many meals in
this house and the other two that he lost count. He had
his own bed, as did his sister and brother, in all three
houses.
It was sixteen long years since he'd been in this house,
yet he felt like he'd just returned home even though it
was a tragic homecoming. His broad, athletic shoulders
slumped, but he straightened back up when Dodo entered the
kitchen. She ran to him and hugged him so hard he winced.
"Trust me, Ben, we'll make Bella pay for this."
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