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“You will not be allowed to sit there. That ismybench.”
Chris opened her eyes to see a boy standing in front of her. He looked a little like Owen except where Owen’s face was pleasant, this boy’s was scowling.
“You must be Lionel,” she said, smiling. “I’m—”
“I know who you are. You’re the poor relatives who’ve come to live off me. Now get up and go away.”
Chris just sat there looking at him.
Lionel’s face began to turn red. “I told you to get up. That ismyseat. This ismygarden. This ismyhouse. Do I have to call my uncle to get rid of you?”
“Why, yes, I do believe you’ll have to do just that,” she said, wondering what Owen would do if he were summoned away from his paperwork to tell a guest to give her seat to a rude little boy.
Lionel’s face began to lose its redness but she could see that his anger was just beneath the surface. “You have to obey me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I own everything here and you are at my mercy.”
Chris smiled at him, repressing a laugh. “It doesn’t look like you own this seat at the moment. Nor do you seem to own any manners. Shall we begin again? I’m your cousin, Diana Eskridge.”
Lionel took a step back from her, then, in a split second, he grabbed a handful of mud from a flower bed and threw it onto the front of her clean dress. Before Chris could speak, he ran out of sight.
Standing, Chris looked down at the front of her dress, then started back to the house.
Unity, taking a pan of cornbread from the oven, looked up. “I take it you met Lionel. Here, honey, sit down and we’ll get you cleaned up. That boy is gonna be the death of us all.”
“I’m sure it’s none of my business, but does anyone ever discipline that child?” She took the wet cloth Unity gave her.
“Till their hands near fell off. When you get as old as I am, you learn that kids are as different as night and day. Some of ’em you can discipline with a look, most of ’em you can discipline with a birch rod—and then there’s Lionel.Nothin’has any effect on him. Believe me, his uncle’s tried ever’thing.”
“How about gentleness?” Chris asked, wiping at the mud on her dress. “I mean he is an orphan.”
“You ain’t been here long, but you’ll see. Mr. Owen is the gentlest man alive. It breaks his heart when he has to take a rod to that boy. For years, he wouldn’t do it. He kept sayin’ he wanted the boy to feel at home here but I’ve known him since he was a baby.”
Chris wasn’t sure how much Diana was supposed to know, but she had to chance it. “You were with Lionel before his uncle was?”
“I keep forgettin’ that you don’t know about us.”
“If you’ll hand me that bowl of peas I’ll shell them for you,” Chris said.
“Now this ain’t to be usual. You’re family, but for today I’ll let you help. Now, where was I? Oh yes. I worked for Mr. Owen’s brother and sister-in-law; I was there the night Mrs. Laura had little Lionel. That was a happy night. But it wasn’t but a few months later that they was killed in that fire. Lionel was only six months old. Of course everything was left to him, with Mr. Owen to take care of the property until Lionel reached twenty-one. He’s done the best he could, but that boy…” She trailed off, leaving the rest to the imagination.
Chris couldn’t get anymore from the woman and Unity spent the rest of their time together talking about what a wonderful man Owen was and how she was fortunate to be able to work for him. Chris thought that this was every homeowner’s dream, to find a dedicated servant.
At dinner, Lionel came to the table late, his mouth set into a sulky pout. Owen greeted him and introduced him to his cousins, Diana and Whitman, but Lionel just gave them a sullen look and began to push the food about on his plate. Twice, Chris caught him looking at her with especially hostile looks. Both times she smiled at him.
“What a brat of a kid,” Ash said when they were alone in their room. “Has anyone taken a switch to him? And why was he eating with adults anyway?”
“Probably because he owns the place,” Chris said as she hung up her meager wardrobe.
Asher ran his hand along the edge of the wardrobe. “I never thought I could come to love a piece of furniture. Remember the first time I saw you? I told Tynan we shouldn’t be hiding in a lady’s bedroom but he said we had to get to you without your making any noise. We thought you’d be asleep but the bed was empty and we jumped into the wardrobe when we heard you coming back into the room.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Him? Who? You don’t mean that two-bit gunslinger, do you? I thought you were over him. After what he did at that picnic, I’d think you’d never want to see him again.”
“I don’t. Could we talk about something else? Such as how we’re going to find out what’s going on in this house? What is making that child so miserable?”
