her, had no idea if it had been a man or a woman, if it had been a black person or a white person .
But whoâs to say that she didnât block out that one memory. What if a visit to Sumarville unearthed that forgotten knowledge?
If she returns, Iâll have to keep a close watch on her. And if she gives me any cause to suspect she knows the truth, then Iâll have to finish the job I started twenty years ago. And this time, Iâll make sure Jolie dies .
Chapter 4
Yvonne stayed discreetly in the background, quietly observing the mourners. No one would question her right to be here. As the familyâs housekeeper, she would be expected to be present at the visitation tonight at Trendall Funeral Home. She had asked Theron to stop by, to offer his condolences to the family, but he hadnât given her a definite answer. Surely he wouldnât disappoint her; she so seldom asked anything of him. If he didnât put in an appearance, Clarice would be upset. Clarice was especially fond of Theron, something heâd never questioned as a child but as an adult seemed to resent. Although she didnât want her son to forget their peopleâs past and prayed that he would continue working for everything he believed in, she wished he could learn to forgive. She had considered telling him about the secrets from her past, wondering if it would help him understand her and perhaps himself. But what if the truth only fueled the anger inside him?
Yvonne silently watched the never-ending line of mourners as they made their way closer and closer to the family standing near the golden casket surrounded by enormous floral arrangements. Every time someone spoke to her, Georgette cried. Maybe Max should have asked the doctor to give her a stronger dose of Valium. Despite her sincere weeping, Louis Royaleâs widow looked regal and undeniably lovely in her navy blue suit and pearls, her jet-black hair fashionably styled and her makeup flawless. At her left side, Mallory was a younger version of Georgette, only her eyes were different. She had Louisâs dark azure blue eyes, which made for a striking contrast to her ebony hair. Poor little Mallory looked as if sheâd rather be anywhere else on earth than here. The girl was immature for eighteen and spoiled rotten. Louis had lavished all the attention on her that he had once given to Jolie.
Yvonne glanced at her wristwatch. Seven-thirty. They were halfway through the three-hour visitation and still no sign of Jolie. Clarice hadnât spoken to her niece personally but had left her numerous messages. She had tried to prepare Clarice for the possibility that Jolie might not come home, not even for her own fatherâs funeral. But Clarice could not be swayed in her firm conviction that her niece would put in an appearance.
Max stood to Georgetteâs right, his presence overpowering. Yvonne had sensed a unique strength in Max the first time sheâd seen him. Heâd been a quiet brooding little boy who had grown up hearing the ugly rumors about his mother and the speculation about his own legitimacy. He was not an easy man to like and didnât seem to care what others thought of him. But people tended to either admire or fear him. Yvonne admired him. Over the years, she had watched him mature into Louis Royaleâs right-hand man and had witnessed his protective caring nature when it came to his mother, his sister, and even to Clarice. He took his obligations seriously. During the past five years, when Louisâs health had begun to deteriorate, Max had taken over the bulk of responsibilities for the businesses and the family.
Regardless of what others might think of Max, Yvonne had the greatest respect for him. He was accepted by the leaders of Mississippi society only because Louis had demanded it. Max had always been an outsider, an outcast who wasnât a true blue blood. She understood bigotry, whether it was directed at people because of
But whoâs to say that she didnât block out that one memory. What if a visit to Sumarville unearthed that forgotten knowledge?
If she returns, Iâll have to keep a close watch on her. And if she gives me any cause to suspect she knows the truth, then Iâll have to finish the job I started twenty years ago. And this time, Iâll make sure Jolie dies .
Chapter 4
Yvonne stayed discreetly in the background, quietly observing the mourners. No one would question her right to be here. As the familyâs housekeeper, she would be expected to be present at the visitation tonight at Trendall Funeral Home. She had asked Theron to stop by, to offer his condolences to the family, but he hadnât given her a definite answer. Surely he wouldnât disappoint her; she so seldom asked anything of him. If he didnât put in an appearance, Clarice would be upset. Clarice was especially fond of Theron, something heâd never questioned as a child but as an adult seemed to resent. Although she didnât want her son to forget their peopleâs past and prayed that he would continue working for everything he believed in, she wished he could learn to forgive. She had considered telling him about the secrets from her past, wondering if it would help him understand her and perhaps himself. But what if the truth only fueled the anger inside him?
Yvonne silently watched the never-ending line of mourners as they made their way closer and closer to the family standing near the golden casket surrounded by enormous floral arrangements. Every time someone spoke to her, Georgette cried. Maybe Max should have asked the doctor to give her a stronger dose of Valium. Despite her sincere weeping, Louis Royaleâs widow looked regal and undeniably lovely in her navy blue suit and pearls, her jet-black hair fashionably styled and her makeup flawless. At her left side, Mallory was a younger version of Georgette, only her eyes were different. She had Louisâs dark azure blue eyes, which made for a striking contrast to her ebony hair. Poor little Mallory looked as if sheâd rather be anywhere else on earth than here. The girl was immature for eighteen and spoiled rotten. Louis had lavished all the attention on her that he had once given to Jolie.
Yvonne glanced at her wristwatch. Seven-thirty. They were halfway through the three-hour visitation and still no sign of Jolie. Clarice hadnât spoken to her niece personally but had left her numerous messages. She had tried to prepare Clarice for the possibility that Jolie might not come home, not even for her own fatherâs funeral. But Clarice could not be swayed in her firm conviction that her niece would put in an appearance.
Max stood to Georgetteâs right, his presence overpowering. Yvonne had sensed a unique strength in Max the first time sheâd seen him. Heâd been a quiet brooding little boy who had grown up hearing the ugly rumors about his mother and the speculation about his own legitimacy. He was not an easy man to like and didnât seem to care what others thought of him. But people tended to either admire or fear him. Yvonne admired him. Over the years, she had watched him mature into Louis Royaleâs right-hand man and had witnessed his protective caring nature when it came to his mother, his sister, and even to Clarice. He took his obligations seriously. During the past five years, when Louisâs health had begun to deteriorate, Max had taken over the bulk of responsibilities for the businesses and the family.
Regardless of what others might think of Max, Yvonne had the greatest respect for him. He was accepted by the leaders of Mississippi society only because Louis had demanded it. Max had always been an outsider, an outcast who wasnât a true blue blood. She understood bigotry, whether it was directed at people because of
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