Death at Lampier

  Chapter 2

  School let out for summer vacation the middle of May, giving Chalcey a much needed and well earned break from studying. With summer coming on, she would have time to help in the garden more and polish up her horsemanship skills for the upcoming Rodeo Parade. She and Red, her POA Appaloosa, were registered to ride just before the Sheriff’s Mounted Posse and because Uncle Fred and Oriole were in the Posse, Chalcey wanted to make sure she was at her best.

  “Summer, when will we be able to harvest from this garden?” Chalcey asked her great grandmother while weeding the squash and tomatoes.

  “If you don’t stop sneaking tomatoes and cucumbers, there won’t be a harvest.” The senior matriarch of Bear Ranch smiled at the light of her life and gave her a big hug. “Come on, we have to finish here, water and then feed the stock. Your mama and Marlowe will be home before too long and we all have to go over to Crimson to help Rod put together the memorial service.”

  “Am I old enough to be at the memorial service since I’m going to be fourteen soon?” Chalcey brushed her bright red hair out of her eyes and repositioned her cowboy hat. “I couldn’t go to Janey’s dad’s funeral because Mama said I was too young. But that was two years ago. We‘ve had a whole bunch of animal funerals here and I‘ve done okay with them haven‘t I?”

  Summer thought back to all the animals that had been buried on the ranch and all the memorial services held in their honor. “Well, you know it’s not up to me, you gotta convince Oriole. You might remind her of how old she was when she first attended a funeral.”

  “Well, how old was she and whose funeral?”

  “She was actually two years younger than you are and it was her daddy’s. But Chalcey, that funeral is different than Joyce’s. Oriole and her daddy were real close and Marlowe made the decision to let her attend because she needed closure. Can you see this is different?”

  “Yeah, Granddad was family and Joyce is a neighbor. But Joyce and Rod are like family. They babysat me, gave me the goat, helped bandage Rascal’s side when he got shot. I got it figured out; you’re telling me I should ask Oriole by way of mentioning her dad’s funeral and then explain that I can help out in the kitchen with the buffet and clean up and all that stuff. That will give her more reason to say yes. Summer, sometimes you are so smart.” Chalcey had stopped weeding and was leaning on her shovel while she expounded on the magic of negotiating with her mom.

  “If I’m not careful, your mama is going to shoot me for letting you learn how to make decisions and develop a mind of your own.”

  “So is this manipulation?”

  “Remember last Thanksgiving when we had Jean and her family for dinner. Remember how disturbing it was because of Jean’s behaviors. She cried and threw temper tantrums to get what she wanted. She wanted oyster dressing instead of the turkey dressing. We already had the dressing made. Her oldest son tried to convince her she was a guest and if she didn’t want the turkey dressing, to do without. And she sulked and made everyone feel horrible. Manipulation is what Jean does with her family. The difference is that you are thinking your way through information that will help you present your position and how you react will show whether you are manipulating or negotiating. There’s a huge difference. You always want to look at the end result to see which it is. And, your mom will probably let you know right away which is which.”

  “So what I should do is have dinner ready, get mom a glass of wine, maybe get out the photo album and then present my request without whining or crying and live with Mom’s decision.” Chalcey picked up her shovel and began spading the garden.

  Summer again covered her laugh with a cough to keep from letting Chalcey know how precocious she found her great granddaughter.

  Oriole drove her 4-wheel drive Jeep Cherokee into the yard and was met at the door by her lanky daughter holding a glass of wine. “Here, Mom, give me your briefcase and go put your feet up.” Chalcey ran into the house ahead of Oriole to grab slippers and the photo album.

  “Okay, young lady, what’s going on? Did you break something, get into trouble with Summer, forget to do your chores?”

  “Oriole, how you talk. I just want to make you comfortable. I thought we could reminisce while we wait for Marlowe.” Chalcey curled up on the old Cordovan leather sofa in the living room next to her mother.

  “Tell me what’s on your mind little missy.”

  “Mom, I’m pretty grown up. I even conducted our last memorial service for Puddles, remember? I think I’m old enough to help out at the buffet and clean up for Joyce’s memorial service. I’ll work real hard, make you proud of me. May I, please.”

  “Sure, don’t see why not.” Oriole had planned on suggesting Chalcey help out in the kitchen to give Summer some help. Knowing teenagers, Oriole figured if it was her idea, Chalcey would have balked, but since it was Chalcey’s idea, she would work hard to prove herself. “Run along and ask Summer what you can do to help her get ready. There are all sorts of things she’ll need ahead of time to get organized. And, don’t argue if she gives you a job you don’t like. Just do it with a smile.”