Chapter 11 – The Warning
Miranda was still in a mild state of shock when she arrived for work at the library two and a half hours later. She locked her purse in her cubicle's bottom file drawer, straightened her calf-length skirt, and smoothed the sides of her hair, which hung in a plain, thick braid down her back. With one finger she shoved her eyeglasses up her nose, then she snagged the nearest cart of books and trundled out to lose herself in the stacks for most of the morning.
Annabelle did enough talking for three women, making Miranda's daylong silence a non-issue. Only once did Miranda rouse herself to conversation, when there were no patrons near enough to hear.
"Annabelle, are you absolutely sure Shepard Krausse is a homosexual?" she whispered.
Annabelle could have been heard for blocks as she laughed out loud then responded, "Honey chile, not to brag or anything, but I can make a dead dude stand up and whistle Dixie, y'know what I mean? But that guy! Never even gave me a second look. I'm not sure he ever gave me a first look, actually. Sweetie, he is definitely playing for the other team. Take my word for it!"
"But," Miranda shuffled her thoughts and tried again, "I didn't realize... Did you know Mr. Krausse is blind? I mean, really and truly blind!"
Annabelle was unfazed. "Then he's a blind homo. And really, nothin' would surprise me. Queer in one way, queer in a lotta ways. Know what I mean?"
"Mmm," murmured Miranda and returned to her books.
....
That evening after work, Miranda had just taken a frozen dinner out of the microwave when the ancient screen door on her front porch rattled thunderously. When she emerged from the kitchen to approach the front door, she saw a tall, elegantly dressed lady waiting imperiously beyond the screen.
The lady commented, "There appears to be nobody home."
"I'm right here," Miranda responded from the opposite side of the screen door. Their faces were separated by mere inches, but Miranda had to look up to meet the blue eyes glaring from above a patrician nose and disapproving lips.
"Can I help you?" asked Miranda without opening the screen door.
"You can invite me inside, young woman. I do not conduct family business on the front porch for the amusement of the neighborhood gossips," the lady answered, in cultured, confident tones.
"Family business?"
The woman simply stared, refusing to say another word until her conditions were met. Miranda opened the screen door and gestured toward her (late) Aunt Phyllis' sagging couch. "Please, won't you come in and sit down? I'm Miranda Ogilvy. I don't believe we've met."
"We have not. Nor would we be likely to if we did not have a mutual—not 'connection,' no—a mutual acquaintance." The woman looked at the couch as if it must surely harbor fleas. "I'll stand, thank you. I am Hermione Montgomery-Krausse. My son, Shepard, lives in the property adjoining this one, to the rear."
Delight lit Miranda's face. Impulsively she grasped the lady's gloved hand in both of hers. "You're Shepard's mother! I am so happy to meet you, Mrs. Krausse!"
"It's 'Montgomery hyphen Krausse,' Miss Ogilvy, and I should like to reclaim my hand now, if you please."
Miranda released the hand and almost bowed before this silver-haired, strikingly handsome woman. What was that scent? Parfum de Paris? Old money? Probably both, she decided. And who wore gloves these days? Besides Queen Elizabeth.
"Would you care for coffee or tea, Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse?" Miranda gestured to the dining room table and chairs.
Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse evaluated the dining furniture. Scarred, scratched, old, but good solid oak and well polished. No fleas. She could sit there. "Tea would be very nice," she said, moving to the table.
At a noise from the porch, Miranda turned to see a man in chauffeur's livery standing outside the door. She was about to invite him to wait inside and perhaps have refreshment, but before Miranda could speak, Lady Gotbucks intervened.
"My man will wait in the car. I won't be long."
"Yes, ma'am," said Miranda, and whispered, "Sorry," to the man outside. "I'll get the tea." Miranda disappeared into the kitchen.
As soon as Miranda left, Hermione waved a gloved hand, and the chauffeur silently entered the house, disappearing into the hallway beyond the living room. An instant later the man left as quietly as he had come, and he was carrying something. By the time Miranda returned with a tea tray, the chauffeur and his burden were gone.
Miranda poured tea and offered cream, sweetener, and lemon, without saying a word. When they had been served, she sat and focused on her guest. "You said something about family business?"
"What do you know about Shepard's family?" asked Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse.
"I know that his grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Krausse, owned the house behind my Aunt Phyllis' house for many years." She gestured toward the house at the rear of the property.
"I am speaking of the Montgomery family."
"Oh." Miranda had nothing further to offer.
"Montgomery County, Montgomery Memorial Hospital, Montgomery Boulevard, Governor Montgomery? Is any of this ringing a bell?"
"Wow! Gosh." Miranda was trying to place all the references, but she was so new to the area that only one name was familiar. "Are you actually related to the governor of Florida?"
"Governor Reginald Montgomery is my brother," the older woman said. Then she made a very great point of adding, "And he is Shepard's uncle."
"Wow," Miranda whispered.
"Presumably Shepard has not told you, but he has a law degree from a prestigious Ivy League university. With his connections, he will be quite the rising star politically in this county, in this state, and hopefully on a national level. We are simply waiting for him to finish playing with his little radio program and his 'Old-Florida-living' phase—which is what this is." She gestured toward the house at the rear and then circled a hand to indicate Minokee in general.
Hermione Montgomery-Krausse pierced Miranda with her icy blue eyes and machine-gunned words at her. "Shepard is a direct descendant of a governor of Florida and a president of the United States. Shepard's uncle will in all likelihood become the next vice president of our nation.
"Shepard Montgomery Krausse is not just an eligible bachelor with money, Miss Ogilvy. He has been groomed from birth to be what passes for royalty in this country. Indeed, his physical disability only serves to make him even more charismatic and heroic than he would be normally."
Miranda said nothing as Hermione left her tea unfinished and rose to her impressive height. She looked down on Miranda as if from Olympus.
"That is who Shepard Montgomery Krausse is, Miss Ogilvy. Who, may I ask, are you?"
Miranda rose slowly to her feet and looked down, smoothing her skirt, before she looked up and returned Hermione's gaze.
"I'm nobody."
"Exactly," said Hermione. "In spite of your background, you seem to be of adequate intelligence to comprehend my message, are you not?"
"I understand you," said Miranda. "You completely misunderstand me, however. I am not pursuing your son, Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse. I hope someday to marry a man who sees me as no one else does and who loves me as no one else ever will. I haven't met that man yet, but I hope to. And when I do, I hope he and I will work together, play together, and raise a happy, healthy family together.
"I don't want to own the county, or control the state, or rule the world. And as long as I have the basic necessities of life, I am not interested in scads of money."
"Then you and I need have no further discussion. Thank you for the tea." Hermione strode toward the screen door. She was about to close the door behind her when Miranda asked a question.
"I'm curious, Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse. Did you marry Shepard's father for money? Or for love."
Hermione looked, at first, as if she would not answer. Finally, she said, "I already had money." Then she walked toward the car where her chauffeur waited. She never looked back. When she was seated in the rear seat and the car was in motio
n, she addressed the driver. "Did you get it?"
"Yes, madam," he answered. "And I saw no other weapons in the house."