Lookaway, Lookaway by Barnhardt Wilton

Author:Barnhardt, Wilton [Barnhardt, Wilton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Family Life
ISBN: 1250020832
Google: mhqpMQEACAAJ
Amazon: 1250020832
Barnesnoble: 1250020832
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2013-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Jeannette

When her granddaughter shot her new husband, Jeannette Jarvis was down for her afternoon nap, which extended into evening because she had taken Christmas Dinner at Lattamore Acres—exiled from the family gathering—and the seared turkey and pecan and oyster stuffing and mincemeat pie with double Devonshire cream sent her into a blissful several-hour sleep. (Since the hiring of Olivier, their new chef, Lattamore Acres was every bit as good as some of these overpriced uptown restaurants that prey upon Charlotte these days, Jeannette was happy to tell anyone.) It was only when dear Mrs. Doaks knocked on her door to tell her that her family was on the local TV and that something bad had happened that she was roused to action. This turn of events made Jeannette Jarvis the subject of public interest again, her words and actions once again noted by the public. Well, didn’t such things come naturally to her?

Jeannette strode through the main dining room of the retirement community the next day, marked, everyone staring, noticing her carriage and composure, wondering how she was bearing up. Jeannette wore her best violet pastel, somber but not lugubrious, light rather than dark, and an amethyst brooch passed down through her mother’s side of the family, the Jellicoes of Salisbury, to remind people of her station. All of Lattamore, even the old harpies she despised, knew to cease hostilities temporarily to express support, because a larger conflict loomed in these situations: good families made to look like bad families, the quality made sport of by the rabble.

“In such a scandal,” said Mrs. Bryan, “I bet your daughter must be turning to you now, Jeannette.”

Jeannette concurred with a hum that she was at the center of things. “There’s a phone call with new information every hour, but I advise as I can. There are lawyers, of course, who must be listened to.”

But the truth was Jerene had barely said a word to her. Jerene called that Society-page nincompoop May Biddle Bridger at the Charlotte Observer hoping to ameliorate the coverage in the inevitable article. Jerene notified the Mint Museum and the ladies on the Jarvis Trust; she called the Charlottetowne Country Club and warned them that reporters might snoop around. She called the poor boy’s mother and family; she called the older Johnston relatives; why, she called everybody on the Planet Earth, it seemed, but her own mother to explain what happened.

Jeannette insisted, “Jerene still needs her mother’s advice, even at her age. This is not just any crisis, after all.”

“Thank God she has you,” said Mrs. Coggins.

“I would just die,” said Mrs. Langford.

“We’re made of stronger stuff than we realize,” Jeannette had said, her lip trembling a bit as she turned to the window, nobly.

Some of the staff brought her extra sugarless cookies; even the doctors and Lattamore Acres counselors hovered around her, taking her hand, letting her know she would not be alone through this ordeal. But when the police announced that this was a misadventure, two young

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