The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📗

to guide the conversation at the other end. And as the servants walked around with silver trays and porcelain platters filled with food, Tripp turned to Maddie. “I understand you arrived from Nevada just a few days ago, Mrs. Birmbaugh.”

“Yes, I did.” Maddie laughed. “I was so dirty that Tug didn’t even recognize me at the station. Thought I was one of the servants until I called out to him, ‘Hey, Tug, aren’t you gonna give your wife a kiss?’ It’s taken me the past three days just to scrub off the train soot. I’m plumb raw, I can tell you that.”

Seeing the horrified look in Rosetta Morgan’s eyes, Maddie turned to Allison. “Did I say something wrong, Mrs. Meadors?”

“Long journeys are always difficult,” Allison countered without answering her question. “Particularly on trains.”

“I much prefer going by boat,” Rosetta said with relish. “Don’t you, Allison?”

“Much.”

Like two skilled players, Allison and Rosetta rescued the conversation each time Maddie made a gaffe. By the time the dessert appeared, Senator Birmbaugh’s wife had successfully spoken on every topic that was taboo at the table: religion, politics, money, and one’s personal cleanliness. But at least she had watched Allison for her cue for the correct flatware. And only the more understanding people at one end of the table had overheard her comments, for Peggy was busy holding court at the other end.

As the candles burned low and the silver finger bowls were dispensed with, Peggy stood. “Ladies, if you will join me, we’ll leave the gentlemen to their cigars and brandy.”

The announcement brought the men to their feet. Amid the shuffling of chairs, Rosetta leaned over to Allison. “I don’t know when I’ve had such fun. This dinner party has given me enough to talk about for the rest of the summer.”

“Are you staying for the entire special session?” Allison inquired quickly.

“No. The last two weeks in August, the children and I will go to the shore. And you?”

“I’m not sure. I may go home for a while. And you, Mrs. Birmbaugh. Will you be staying in Washington?”

“I guess so. Not much to do in Nevada, since Tug bought out my …” Maddie caught herself. “Seeing I just got here, I might as well stay.”

The women went up the stairs and dispersed in various directions, and a few moments later, Allison sat down before the dressing table in one of the bedrooms and began to go through the motions of repairing her hair. Peggy sat in a nearby slipper chair and watched.

“A half hour longer and then I can collapse,” Peggy announced.

Allison turned from the mirror. “I don’t know why you were so worried, Peggy. You managed quite well tonight.”

“The others took their cue from you. You realize that, don’t you, Allison? You’re the one who kept the party from certain disaster.”

Before Allison could dissent, Peggy continued, “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even asked about your visit with the Forsytes this afternoon.”

At that moment, Letty appeared in the hallway, followed by Rosetta and Maddie. “Maddie and I were just admiring the new painting in the guest bedroom, Peggy,” Rosetta commented. “Where did you find such an attractive piece?”

“It came from my aunt’s estate,” Peggy replied. Allison, grateful for the diversion, stood and joined the others in their walk down the stairs. She had no wish to discuss the afternoon fiasco with Peggy.

Now assured that her role as Washington’s premier hostess had not been damaged despite her unwanted guest, Peggy held court for the rest of the evening with her usual verve. But for Allison, the last half hour sagged dreadfully.

The tinkling of laughter, the small talk were grating on her nerves. Like someone who had held her breath far too long and yearned to drink in great draughts of fresh air, so Allison yearned to leave the restricted atmosphere of the parlor, where the sickening sweet scent of tuberoses had combined with the summer heat to overwhelm her. The headache that had threatened earlier now came in full force.

Oblivious to the sudden streak of lightning outside the window, Allison could stand it no longer. “Peggy, I really must go.…”

Once again the other women followed Allison’s move. “Yes. We’d better get home before the storm breaks.”

Within a few moments, Allison and Rad, along with the Birmbaughs, stood together on the porch and waited for their carriages to pull up to the steps.

“Remember, Mrs. Birmbaugh, tea on Tuesday, at my house,” Rosetta Martin called out as she rushed past them.

Maddie nodded and then turned to Allison. “I won’t ever forget your kindness tonight, Mrs. Meadors,” she said, holding tight to Tug’s arm.

In turn, the senator confided to Rad, “I’ve been thinking it over, Meadors. Just want you to know you can count on my fairness in the vote.”

With a shaking of hands and good-byes, Rad and Allison rushed to their carriage. Once the carriage started down the driveway, Rad laughed. “In one short evening, Allison, you did more than all my aides have done in a month—caused a hostile senator to rethink his position. It’s a pity that wives aren’t paid for their work. But maybe I can find some way of remedying that.” He leaned over to kiss her and she gave a start. “What’s wrong?”

“I really do have a dreadful headache, Rad.”

“Then close your eyes and rest your head against my shoulder.”

The man seated beside her had been a rock of strength through so many years. But now she had no right to draw on that strength.

To take her mind from her own problems, she began to think of Maddie Birmbaugh. There was something not quite right about her. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Rad, how long have the Birmbaughs been married?”

“Nearly …” He stopped abruptly, and Allison could feel the muscles in his arm tense. “I’m not sure. Why?”

“Oh, it’s not important. I was just wondering.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. But Rad remained wary. Sometimes he thought that Allison had a sixth sense about things.