Previously on Sins of the Fathers
--- Aron told Kara he's worried about Viola
--- Clayton blamed Luc for Jeremiah's death
--- Miranda assured Ren that Clayton would never want his child with a Sidarus
--- Felix discovered a letter Luc had meant to destroy 
"The world of hostess gifts is a vast one," Meredith read from her draft of this week's "Mind Your Manners" column. "It includes the tried-and-true favorites of yesteryear, like handkerchiefs and baked goods, as well as the new classics of today. Do yourself a favor and explore these exciting new options. The next time you're at Rayburn's, pick up a pashmina, entertain some eggshell china, bag a basket of dried flowers. It's all just another way to say Thank You."
She frowned. "Something about that last bit there," she said, "is just not right." She adjusted her glasses. "Well, I'm sick of thinking about it. I'll look at it again this afternoon." She placed her notepad on the kitchen table and picked up the society section of the Carmine Falls Gazette.
"I'm sure you'll think of it," Oliver said without looking up from the Metro section. After all, Meredith was never happy with anything at first, but she always managed things to her liking in the end. It tickled Oliver to remember the energetic, ambitious girl he'd married. Somewhere along the line, Meredith Hasting, the most popular girl at Carmine Falls High, had become Meredith Hasting Bevins, the most feared woman in Carmine Falls society. She was a good-looking woman still, he knew that. Her graying hair framed her face in tight curls, and her smile still held a touch of the glamour that had made her special as a girl. And if Oliver ever, in quiet moments, missed that girl he married and wondered where her tenderness had gone, well, he kept that to himself.
"Will you look at this," Meredith said disgustedly. "Right there in 'This Whirling Life', Serena Montgomery on the front page like she's the queen. Listen: 'Mrs. Montgomery dispensed with tradition this year. Instead of the usual tea party and organ recital at Carmine Falls University, the Womens Service Society kicked off the summer with a private concert and evening cocktail at the Montgomery estate.' Can you believe that?"
"Oh, I believe everything in the Gazette."
"I mean about the cocktails. Cocktails, Oliver! At the WSS! That is just not the way. I would never have allowed such a thing."
"Then it's a good thing you are no longer the president, Meredith."
"How can you possibly say that's a good thing? I built the WSS from little more than a bridge club into the most important and prestigious philanthropic organization in this part of the state! And ever since that woman was elected, she has done everything in her power to drag it into the gutter."
Oliver nodded but still didn't look up from his paper.
Meredith continued, "The next thing you know, she'll be requiring the members to attend secretarial school and have illegitimate children."
"Now, Meredith, there's nothing wrong with going to secretarial school. Plenty of good, hard-working people in this town are secretaries." He looked up and smiled. "Besides, I believe that Serena was Clayton's paralegal."
"Whatever she was, it certainly worked out well for her. She arrives in this town, pregnant and penniless and ends up married to the heir to the Montgomery name. Old Mr. Montgomery must be rolling in his grave."
"I think perhaps you should be careful what you say about her, Meredith. Julia Montgomery is friends with Seth, and Tiffany Watts is Hasting's partner. You don't want to hurt their feelings."
"I know, dear, I know. And Julia is a sweet girl. She takes after the Montgomerys. As for that Tiffany thing, I don't understand how Hasting can tolerate her." She saw Oliver about to speak and continued, "But I will hold my tongue. As much as it hurts me, I will do it." She patted his hand. "How lucky I am to have such a thoughtful husband. I wish I could be more like you, dear."
"You wish no such thing."
"I do. I admire you so much. I think you are the kindest husband and the most wonderful mayor in the world. The city should erect a statue to you, did you ever think of that?"
"No, I didn't."
"Well, I could form a committee... No, that won't do."
"Not worth a statue after all, am I?"
"You certainly are, but any new committee would have to include the president of the WSS. And I won't invite Serena Montgomery to join anything of mine. But if I didn't invite her, I would look tacky."
"Well, we don't want that."
"Of course not. So I'm afraid your statue will have to wait, Oliver." She frowned. "If only she weren't the president, then I could start working on it right now. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Oliver?"
"I can't say I ever thought of it before."
"I have, many times. You're so regal looking, dear. Someone should make a statue of you just because of the way you look, but here you've been the mayor for fourteen years, and I think you ought to have a statue."
Oliver was struck by this outpour. "I never knew you felt so strongly, Meredith."
"I do, Oliver, I do. You are the best man I can think of, and the city should show its appreciation for your hard work. It really is a job for the WSS. We lead the way in establishing public landmarks. I say we, of course, when that really that isn't true. It's they... now." Meredith looked down at the paper morosely.
Oliver knew her well enough to ask, "Is there something you want me to do, Meredith?"
"Well," she said slowly, "your office is in charge of designating booths for the Corn-Husking-Jackfest..."
"Yes?"
"And if you forgot to give WSS a booth..."
"Meredith, that's their biggest fundraiser, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"I thought you loved the WSS. Why do you want to put them in such a position?"
"Tough love, Oliver, haven't you ever heard of it? I love the WSS, but I want it to be the old organization that conducted itself with dignity, and it can't be that until I'm president again. If they don't get a spot in the Jackfest, they'll realize what shame that woman has brought upon their heads. I mean, everyone gets a booth at Jackfest, Oliver, it's the biggest event in Carmine Falls. If the WSS is kept out of it, they'll see how far they've fallen. They'll be begging me back in no time." She smiled.
Oliver sighed and went back to reading his paper.
"And then of course," she said, "we'll start working on your statue."
"I think you're overestimating my interest in that statue."
"And I think you're underestimating how hurt I am about the WSS. Didn't you take vows to honor and protect? I know it's been a long time, Oliver, but I didn't think you'd forgotten them."
"I didn't take a vow to meddle in your little clubs."
"If that's the way you see it..." Meredith gathered up her notes and wordlessly left the room.
Oliver sipped his coffee. "That's it for now," he thought. "Please, God, let her get interested in something else, anything else."
**************** 
Luc knocked on Viola's door. He expected to wait, and he did. It took Viola twice as much time as required to do anything. Viola opened the door, and Luc walked past her into her bedroom. It was the most beautiful room in the house, and he'd chosen it for her, his oldest daughter, the jewel in his crown.
Viola had always been so pretty, but she lacked what beauty pageant judges called sparkle. A person could spend an hour in a room with her and never realize she was there. That's why she needed Luc's help. She needed someone to direct attention to her and help her make the right choices, those that would enhance her and credit her family. If left to her own devices, she would do everything wrong.
"Good morning, Viola," Luc said.
Viola nodded.
"And how are you this morning?" he asked.
She lifted the corners of her mouth in what might have been a smile.
Luc noticed a stack of photographs on her chaise. "What have we here?" he asked.
"Something I was working on."
Luc walked to the chaise and picked up the photos. "Maria." he said. It was a stack of four pictures, all shots of his late wife, taken when Viola was just a baby. Viola had sliced the pictures and drawn on them with red nail polish. Maria's face was marred by numerous cuts, tears, and nail polish smears. "Where did you get these, Viola?" Luc asked. "What have you been doing here?"
Viola looked at the floor. "I found them in a drawer in the library."
"But why did you do this?"
Viola shrugged halfheartedly. "That's what she looks like now, I imagine."
Luc wadded the pictures up and crushed them in his fist. "You shouldn't have done that. I'll take these away."
"Yes, Father," she said.
Luc sat on the chaise. "I have something for you, Viola," he said. He took a small bottle from his pocket. "A Swiss doctor, a friend of mine, gave these to me. I think they'll help you."
"What are they?"
"'A medicine', my love, 'That's able to breathe life into a stone.'"
"Father..."
"Yes, Viola? Here take one now."
"It's just that, I have so many already."
"Viola, you need these. I trust this doctor completely, and he says that these will solve all your problems." Luc saw that she was still doubtful. "All right, let's make an agreement. Why don't you try them? Try them for two weeks, and if you still don't like them, I'll tell the doctor they just didn't work out."
Viola looked directly into his eyes, something she rarely did anymore. After a moment she said, "All right. Two weeks."
"Wonderful, and if you try them and don't like them, don't be afraid to tell me. I went to some trouble to get them for you, but it's no matter. Here, start right now." He handed her one of the little blue pills. "Shall I get you some water?"
"No," she said, "I've gotten so good at swallowing them."
"There's my girl. Why don't you come downstairs for a while? I just got a new collection of Dutch masters in. I'd like to get your opinion on them."
She brightened a little. "All right. I think I'd like to wash my face first."
"I'll be in my office."
Luc smiled as he shut the door. "Yes," he thought, "in just a few weeks, she'll be much better. She'll get over her morbid fascinations. Thank God she's quit sculpting. How do you tell your child she has no talent? Well, she will have a talent. I think she'll make an excellent little hostess when Mr. Fitzwallace arrives from London. She'll be sparkling by then." The thought added a spring to his step as he descended the stairs.
**************** 
"Another martini, please," Annette told the homely waiter. She looked into her empty glass and pouted. She was sitting at her favorite table--- the corner one --- in her favorite lounge--- Heebie Jeebies --- on her favorite night to be there--- Monday, the night of the Charlie Samson Quartet's weekly gig. Charlie Samson was a jazz pianist and vocalist, and Annette would rather sit and hear him play than anything else in the world. He'd just started his set with Annette's absolute favorite song, "Lush Life", but even that couldn't bring her out of the blues. "No," she thought, "it's my day that's keeping me down."
Earlier she'd met with her accountant, and he told her what she already knew in her heart. Her modeling agency, Close Contact, was struggling to stay in the black. "I'm just not very good with money," Annette thought as she sipped her fresh drink. "I wish I could be more like Trey..." She smiled remembering her accountant's advice. "Too much dead weight, he says, need to trim the fat. Well how am I supposed to do that?" First of all there was her secretary, Ashley Upton, who'd asked for a job after her husband left her and her four-year old son for Ashley's own great-aunt. Ashley was a thoroughly incompetent secretary, she could barely work the phone, but Annette couldn't fire her. What would Ashley do? Then there was Mr. Costos, her gardener. Close Contact had no garden, of course, it was part of a commercial building, but Mr. Costos spent a lot of time watering the two potted palms in Annette's office. For this service, Annette paid him a yearly salary, most of which went towards putting his grandson through college, so she couldn't stand to fire him either. She'd recently hired Logan, one of Clay's friends. Logan's parents kicked him out of their house, and poor Logan was practically homeless. Logan didn't have an actual job title yet because there wasn't much for him to do. Mostly, he picked up lunch and bought stamps. He was such a nice kid, though, that Annette couldn't get rid of him. Her only really useful employee was Jean, whom Annette had hired to be the secretary so that she could keep paying Ashley. "No," Annette concluded, "I cannot fire any of them. But I've got to do something. Maybe it was a mistake to set up shop here. Carmine Falls is a one-horse town. Why would anyone need a modeling agency? Oh, bother."
Her mood certainly wasn't enhanced by the fact she'd been stood up. Brock was supposed to meet her, but she'd been there for half an hour with no sign of Brock. "It's just as well," she thought, "he'd just belt down a couple Jack-and-Cokes and leave me with the check--- as if I can afford to pay my own." She sighed.
"...Life is awful again, and only last year, everything seemed so clear..." Charlie Samson sang.
"I hear you," thought Annette. Of course, she knew what she was going to do. She'd have to ask Clayton for a loan. She hated doing it, but it was her only option. "It's horrifying," she thought, "just horrifying. Next month I'll be thirty-four, and I have to ask my daddy for money. C'est la vie... Maybe if I ask Dad for a loan, I can make it up by getting Julia jobs and not taking any commission. Would that be a fair trade? Oh, bother. This is making my head--- What is that?"
Annette turned her attention back to the stage. A sax solo snagged her, simply because it wasn't the usual solo. She knew Jesse, the usual player's, style by heart. Jesse's phrasing was precise, but this solo wasn't like that. This player lacked Jesse's technique. He seemed to feel his way through each note, taking his time with it if it interested him, bouncing it off if that's what he wanted. This player seemed to know exactly what each sound was worth and didn't sell any of them short. This player found emotion and sensuality that Annette had never heard before. This player wasn't Jesse.
"Sweet Jesus," Annette breathed. She wasn't swearing, it was a very short prayer. For on the stage, she beheld the incarnation of her fantasies. "Not too much taller than I... what shoulders, though, and my God--- the way he holds that sax, it's gotta be the way he--- oh dear, I've been reading too much Cosmo."
Annette completely forgot her money woes and gave the mysterious musician her full attention for the remainder of the set.
Charlie Samson stood and announced, "We want to thank you all for spending the night with us here at Heebie Jeebies. We've got a little different lineup tonight. Jesse McCarty plays tenor sax for us, but Jesse broke his hand last week climbing out his girlfriend's window. He was trying to get away before her husband came home." The crowd laughed. "But don't you worry about old Jesse, he's healing up fine. Until he does, we have a new fellow filling in for us. He wears a suit in his real life---"
"Yum," thought Annette.
"--- but he's been playing some sax on the side, and we found him at our Wednesday night gig at Mr. Henry's Lounge, which is a fine place if you ever find yourself in Two Knife Mountain, three counties north of here. We're glad to have him, and we think he does a mighty fine job." The crowd applauded, and several ladies yelled out their admiration. The roar crescendoed while Charlie continued with the introduction. He gestured towards the sexy stranger, the stranger nodded, and Annette knew she'd missed his name.
She called the waiter. "That replacement guy," she asked, "do you know his name?" When the waiter shook his head, she said, "Send him one of whatever he's drinking, on me."
Annette watched as the waiter took Mr. Sexy a Heineken. Unfortunately, she also watched five different women swarm him. "I've got to think of something," she thought. "I've got to get him to notice me. Let's see, I could break something. No, that's so obvious. Maybe I could..." Annette was so absorbed in her plotting that she didn't even notice Mr. Sexy talking to her waiter. The next thing she knew, a fresh drink appeared under her nose. "Oh no," she said, "I don't want---"
The waiter interrupted her. "From the gentleman, with his compliments."
Annette raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" she asked. "With his compliments?"
The waiter nodded.
"Yes, but did he actually say that or did you just add that because you thought it would sound good?"
"No ma'am, those were his exact words. He wants me to ask if he can join you."
"Oh, well..." Annette made a grand show of checking her watch, which was quite a show indeed because she wasn't wearing a watch. Of course, Mr. Sexy didn't have to know that. "Tell him I was just on my way to meet someone, but since I have this extra drink and all..."
The waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
"All right," she thought, "I've got to stay calm. If he and I are going to fall in love and have passionate sex, I've got to be suave, sophisticated, aloof..."
He appeared at her table like some mythical prince. "Wow," she said.
He smiled. "Yeah, I have that effect on a lot of women," he joked.
"Oh, um, yes, I was just admiring the way you navigate the crowd. I have the hardest time doing that."
"I see. I'm sorry, I was hoping that you were overcome by my boyish good looks."
"Well, I wouldn't really say you have boyish good looks."
"You wouldn't? What would you say then?"
Annette paused with precision. "I would say you're a decent saxophonist." She smiled, "Won't you sit down?"
"I'd love to."
Annette cursed herself for not sitting in a booth. "Thanks for the drink," she said.
"Thank you. I was just returning the favor."
"With compliments, though, right? I mean, you did say, 'With compliments'."
"Yes, and I meant it."
"Well, see, I didn't send any compliments." She fluttered her eyelashes.
"No, but you did send the first drink."
"Yes, but I sent you a beer. You sent me an eight-dollar martini."
"Did it really cost that much?"
Annette nodded smugly.
"If I'd known that, I wouldn't have sent it."
Annette glared at him. "Really," she said in the most imperious tone her wounded pride would muster.
"No," he said, "not really." He smiled at her in such an easy way. Annette imagined what it would be like, knowing that smile would greet you every morning. "I would have sent you a drink regardless. I've been wanting to meet you."
She nearly gushed. "You have?"
"Yes, for quite some time."
Annette eyed him suspiciously. "I'm sorry," she said, "do you know me from somewhere?"
He shrugged. "Well, everyone knows you, don't they? Annette Montgomery, Carmine Falls' most famous model?"
"Oh my goodness! I can't believe you actually recognize me from all that. It was so long ago."
"But you look the same."
"Oh, I wasn't a very good model, you know." She coyly lifted her glass.
"No, you weren't."
She nearly choked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your personality shone through, even in photos. I'm sure no one ever noticed what clothes you were wearing."
This time she actually did gush. "Oh... lovely..."
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said that was lovely. But it is too loud in here, why don't you scoot over a bit?"
"I have a better idea," he said, "why don't we step outside. I've got twenty minutes before my next set, and it's a nice night."
Annette smiled, and for once her smile held no smugness. "Thank you, Lord," she thought. "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you for sending this angel to be nice to me today." She rose slowly and looked him directly in the eye. She said, "You know, truthfully, I didn't send you that drink just because I thought you were a decent saxophonist. You'll have to forgive me, people tell me that occasionally I'm a little, well, flippant."
"I never would have guessed."
She laughed. "Now you're being flippant. But what I'm trying to say is... I think you're very, well... I noticed you right away, and... Oh my goodness! Here I am babbling on, and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I don't even know your name."
This admission obviously shocked him.
Annette blushed and looked down at the table. "You see, I couldn't hear when Charlie..."
"Oh."
"So? What's your name?"
He hesitated a moment, then smiled and said, "Ren Sidarus."
Annette dropped back into her chair.
Ren said, "Aren't we going---"
"No. No, I'm not going anywhere with you. What did you think you were going to do, Mr. Sidarus, lure me outside and bash my head in with a rock?"
"I don't---"
"No, that's not your way, is it? So much cleaner to have someone else do it. I suppose your minions are lurking around the corner."
"My minions?"
"Did you follow me here, is that what happened?"
"No, actually I think I arrived before you."
"Yes, clever. You Sidaruses are always so clever."
The venom in her voice stunned Ren. He sat and said cautiously, "I think you've misunderstood here."
"No, I don't think I have. You've misunderstood. What is it with you people? You try to get to me through my agency, that didn't work, so you creep into my personal life. You're tenacious, I have to give you that."
"I have been trying to reach you at Close Contact so that I can hire you. I'm starting a magazine here, and I need models."
"You don't need them from me."
"You're the only agency in town."
"Call my secretary tomorrow. She'll be happy to give you the names and numbers of a half dozen others within an hour's drive of Carmine Falls."
"I've been calling your office for weeks. I can't seem to reach anyone. You won't take my calls, and someone named Ashley keeps transferring me to the fire department. I want to give you business. I want to pay you."
"I don't want Sidarus money."
"Good, because I don't have any. All I have is Ren's money."
"I don't want that either. I don't want anything from you." She rose to leave, but Ren stood and stopped her. "Get out of my way," she said. "I'm warning you."
"Just listen for a second. Please. I know our fathers hate each other because of something that happened way in the past that neither of them could control. I don't understand why that has to dominate our lives. I am not going to let my father's vendetta determine who I do business with." He smiled. "I like you, Annette. Even though you are determined to offend me, I like you. You're obviously very honest, and you have a backbone, too. We got off to a bad start here, but can't we forget about it and try again?"
Annette gave him a long look. Finally she said, "I guess I have a better memory than you do, Mr. Sidarus. Please let me by now."
"Whatever your normal fee is, I'll double it."
"Octuple it and see how far it gets you."
Ren smiled. "That was foolish of me, trying to buy your good opinion."
"You'll never have my good opinion, Mr. Sidarus. You might as well ask for the moon. Now excuse me. I have to go home and lock my door. Obviously, the Cretans are out tonight."
He sighed and stepped away so she could pass. She spoke to the bartender and left the lounge, never even looking back.
Ren sank into his chair. "Well, sport," he thought, "you tried. Maybe Miranda's right. Her father obviously hates us a lot more than I imagined. It's medieval, though. Why would someone like her tie herself into that attitude? It doesn't make sense. God, her---"
"Excuse me, sir," the homely waiter approached him. "Ms. Montgomery said you'd be covering her bill?"
Ren bowed his head. He took out his wallet, smiled ruefully and said, "What a woman."
****************
Felix took a moment to collect himself. "Okay," he thought, "one of the girls. He's keeping one of the girls from her mother. He doesn't want her to know. But I've got to play it cool. He can't know I've got his dirty little secret until I'm ready. And I'm definitely not ready now." He ran his hand through his hair, and entered Luc's office.
"Felix," Luc said, "I take it Vincent gave you my message. Have a seat." Luc leaned back in his chair. He was a vision of comfort and good will. "I am going to level with you, Felix. You're a man of action, that's apparent."
"Thank you, Luc."
"I appreciate the work you've done for Sidarus Enterprises. You're quick thinking, and you've saved me from significant trouble before. I reward my employees when they've gone above and beyond."
Felix nodded. He wondered what Luc was setting him up for.
"You know that the company has many different divisions," Luc said, "And some are more private than others."
"Some are totally private, I believe."
"Some we simply don't advertise, that's correct."
"Like the pearl division."
"Yes, but now we're working to get out of that one."
"It's a big money maker."
"We don't need the money, Felix, and it's too much trouble." Luc sighed. "It destroyed my father."
"What are you planning to do about it?"
"I'm unloading the remainder of our stock. Vincent's been working on it, but I want you to take over. This is too important to leave in the hands of such a lout."
Felix smiled.
"Vincent will second you, in case there's any trouble. But I don't anticipate any. Thanks to the information from your police source, I've devised a mistake-proof scenario. You're sure she's credible, aren't you?"
"Absolutely. They have no idea who Frances Baker and Nick Rhodes are. They think the, uh, pearls are getting here through a company on the west side of town."
"Excellent. I don't care about Frances, but Nick is important. He has too much information on this division. I need you to commit to me, Felix, if something goes wrong on this deal and Nick becomes a liability, you'll be willing to take care of it."
"Take care of it, Luc?"
Luc leaned forward. "Felix, if Nick talks to the police, many employees of Sidarus Enterprises will be jeopardized, and you'll be one of them. I'll make sure of that. It's your responsibility to keep that from happening. You have to keep Nick quiet... any way you can."
"I think I understand what you mean."
"And you agree?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
"Then I agree. But isn't that more Vincent's line of work?"
"Vincent's become a liability. I don't want to put something so important in his hands. I'll be dumping him anyway, after the pearl deal. You're the new rock of Sidarus Enterprises, Felix, and I'll reward you handsomely once this deal goes through. You can wrap it up in two weeks."
"That's not much time, Luc."
"There's very little to do. Just get rid of it, understand? I have an important business partner coming here from England, and I want this over with by the time he arrives."
"No problem."
"Good. Now, I'm going to put something else in your hands, Felix. This was Vincent's as well, but since he'll be leaving us, I want you to take over. My daughter Viola has been depressed."
"Yes."
"I just put her on a new medication and I anticipate a speedy recovery, but I don't want her to be burdened right now."
"Of course not."
"An old admirer of hers returned to Carmine Falls last year. Aron Hasting."
"The minister at St. George's."
"Yes, the mayor's brother-in-law. He hurt her years ago, and I think he's trying again. I don't want him leading her down the primrose path. Viola is so naive, she wouldn't know to be suspicious of him. Keep an eye out for him, and do a little investigation. Find out where he's going, who he's spending time with."
"Certainly."
Luc nodded Felix's dismissal.
Felix, however, wasn't ready to go. He still had a little prying to do. "I'm glad you believe Viola's recovering," he said. "It's odd how different your girls are, though."
"They each have their own personalities. That's as it should be, Felix."
"I suppose so, but Viola and Rosa, for instance, are fairly close in age, and they don't seem to be anything alike."
"They've led very different lives."
"Really? How so?"
"Well, we never made a distinction, but my wife and I adopted Rosa when she was a child. She's been treated just like my other children since we found her, but she led a difficult life until that time. I'm sure it's affected her."
"I didn't know she was adopted."
"It makes no difference." Luc frowned. "Is there some reason, Felix, for your sudden interest in my daughters?"
Felix heard the threat implicit in Luc's voice and knew he'd better make a hasty retreat. He shrugged and said, "Curiosity."
"Remember what they say about curiosity, Felix. Good night."
Felix left the room. "Curiosity killed the cat," he thought as he closed the door behind him. "How appropriate. But don't get too thirsty in there, old man. You're not going to have time to get to me, and I'm not offing Nick Rhodes for you. I may be a selfish bastard, but I'm not stupid enough to let you get a murder on me." He smiled. "And by the time you figure out I've double-crossed you, I'll be on the other side of the world, living high off your money. Thanks for the tip about Rosa, by the way. Now that I've figured out what you're hiding, you'll never be able to pull my strings again."
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