there where the road forks. We had everything. Besides, now I
have
electricity! I hooked it up myself from the highway, and I did the same thing with the cable TV.”
“You really did that?” asked Mona.
“Honey, that’s against the law,” said Bea.
“I certainly did. My life’s far too interesting for me to ever tell lies about it. Besides, I’ve got more courage than imagination, that’s always been the case.” She drank the iced tea with another noisy slurp, spilling more of it. “God, that’s good. That’s so sweet. That’s artificial sweetener, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Bea, staring at her in mingled horror and embarrassment. And to think she had said “sugar.” And Bea did hate people who ate and drank sloppily.
“Now, just think of it,” said Mary Jane, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and then wiping her hand onher denim skirt. “I’m tasting something now that is fifty times sweeter than anything anybody ever tasted on earth until this very time. That’s why I’ve bought stock in artificial sweetener.”
“You’ve bought what?” asked Mona.
“Oh, yeah. I have my own broker, honey, discount broker but that’s the best kind, since I do the picking most of the time anyway. He’s in Baton Rouge. I’ve got twenty-five thousand dollars sunk in the stock market. And when I make it rich, I’m draining and raising Fontevrault. I’m bringing it all back, every peg and board! You wait and see. You’re looking at a future member of the Fortune Five Hundred.”
Maybe there was something to this dingbat, Mona had thought. “How did you get twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“You could be killed, fiddling with electricity,” declared Celia.
“Earned every penny of it on the way home, and that took a year, and don’t ask me how I did it. I had a couple of things going for me, I did. But that’s a story, now, really.”
“You could be electrocuted,” said Celia. “Hooking up your own wires.”
“Darling, you are not in the witness box,” said Bea anxiously.
“Look, Mary Jane,” said Michael, “if you need anything like that, I’ll come down there and hook it up for you. I mean it. You just tell me when, I’ll be there.”
Twenty-five thousand dollars?
Mona’s eyes had drifted to Rowan. Rowan was frowning just a little at the flowers, as if the flowers were talking to her in a quiet and secret tongue.
There followed a colorful description from Mary Jane of climbing swamp cypresses, of knowing just what electric wires to touch and not to touch, of purloined work gloves and boots. Maybe this girl was some kind of genius.
“What other stocks do you own?” asked Mona.
“What do you care at your age about the stock market?” asked Mary Jane with blithering ignorance.
“Good heavens, Mary Jane,” Mona had said, trying tosound as much as she could like Beatrice, “I’ve always had a great obsession with the stock market. Business to me is an art. Everyone knows that about me. I plan someday to run my own mutual fund. I assume you know the term, mutual fund?”
“Well, sure I do,” said Mary Jane, laughing at herself in an utterly agreeable and forgiving manner.
“I have, in the last few weeks, already completely designed my own portfolio,” Mona said, and then she’d broken off, feeling dumb for having been baited like that by someone who probably was not even listening to her. Derision from the firm of Mayfair and Mayfair was one thing—and it would not last long—but from this girl it was another.
But the girl had really looked at her, and stopped just using her for a sounding board, while taking little peeping glances in between her own hasty words.
“Is that so?” asked Mary Jane. “Well, let me ask you something now. What about this Shopper’s Channel on TV? I think this is going to go over like crazy? You know? I’ve put ten grand in the Shopper’s Channel. You know what happened?”
“The stock’s nearly doubled
have
electricity! I hooked it up myself from the highway, and I did the same thing with the cable TV.”
“You really did that?” asked Mona.
“Honey, that’s against the law,” said Bea.
“I certainly did. My life’s far too interesting for me to ever tell lies about it. Besides, I’ve got more courage than imagination, that’s always been the case.” She drank the iced tea with another noisy slurp, spilling more of it. “God, that’s good. That’s so sweet. That’s artificial sweetener, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Bea, staring at her in mingled horror and embarrassment. And to think she had said “sugar.” And Bea did hate people who ate and drank sloppily.
“Now, just think of it,” said Mary Jane, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and then wiping her hand onher denim skirt. “I’m tasting something now that is fifty times sweeter than anything anybody ever tasted on earth until this very time. That’s why I’ve bought stock in artificial sweetener.”
“You’ve bought what?” asked Mona.
“Oh, yeah. I have my own broker, honey, discount broker but that’s the best kind, since I do the picking most of the time anyway. He’s in Baton Rouge. I’ve got twenty-five thousand dollars sunk in the stock market. And when I make it rich, I’m draining and raising Fontevrault. I’m bringing it all back, every peg and board! You wait and see. You’re looking at a future member of the Fortune Five Hundred.”
Maybe there was something to this dingbat, Mona had thought. “How did you get twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“You could be killed, fiddling with electricity,” declared Celia.
“Earned every penny of it on the way home, and that took a year, and don’t ask me how I did it. I had a couple of things going for me, I did. But that’s a story, now, really.”
“You could be electrocuted,” said Celia. “Hooking up your own wires.”
“Darling, you are not in the witness box,” said Bea anxiously.
“Look, Mary Jane,” said Michael, “if you need anything like that, I’ll come down there and hook it up for you. I mean it. You just tell me when, I’ll be there.”
Twenty-five thousand dollars?
Mona’s eyes had drifted to Rowan. Rowan was frowning just a little at the flowers, as if the flowers were talking to her in a quiet and secret tongue.
There followed a colorful description from Mary Jane of climbing swamp cypresses, of knowing just what electric wires to touch and not to touch, of purloined work gloves and boots. Maybe this girl was some kind of genius.
“What other stocks do you own?” asked Mona.
“What do you care at your age about the stock market?” asked Mary Jane with blithering ignorance.
“Good heavens, Mary Jane,” Mona had said, trying tosound as much as she could like Beatrice, “I’ve always had a great obsession with the stock market. Business to me is an art. Everyone knows that about me. I plan someday to run my own mutual fund. I assume you know the term, mutual fund?”
“Well, sure I do,” said Mary Jane, laughing at herself in an utterly agreeable and forgiving manner.
“I have, in the last few weeks, already completely designed my own portfolio,” Mona said, and then she’d broken off, feeling dumb for having been baited like that by someone who probably was not even listening to her. Derision from the firm of Mayfair and Mayfair was one thing—and it would not last long—but from this girl it was another.
But the girl had really looked at her, and stopped just using her for a sounding board, while taking little peeping glances in between her own hasty words.
“Is that so?” asked Mary Jane. “Well, let me ask you something now. What about this Shopper’s Channel on TV? I think this is going to go over like crazy? You know? I’ve put ten grand in the Shopper’s Channel. You know what happened?”
“The stock’s nearly doubled
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