“Thanks. But not really.”
He’s quiet, rubs his beard.
“Well, I had some news. But if there’s a better time, it can wait...”
“No, now should be fine.” I set my book and half-empty teacup aside. My heartbeat picks up. I hope we finally have answers.
Henry puts his reading glasses back on and clicks through a screen on his desk. I see the stack of letters he took from the safe the other day.
“Lizzie, did Philip ever take you to the Summerville Grits Festival?”
“Once, when Heathcliff was a toddler. It was quite the tribute to grits.”
“But a big ole deal if you’re from that area. Do you remember there was the parade, shrimp and grits at every stand, and even a grits dunk tank?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Let’s go back together to that festival in the summer of 1982. It was a sweltering one even by South Carolina’s standards. But everyone and their mama turned up, and the lemonade stands made a killing. It was a golden era for Frank and Lila Mae Dubose and your in-laws. Mirabel and Lila Mae’s gardening shop was thriving. Frank was mayor. And Ted had just been promoted to bank manager. The couples rode together in the mayor’s float at the front of the parade. Mirabel and Lila Mae tossed store coupons and candy into the crowd. Have a look...”
He shares his screen, flashing a photo from the parade. Mirabel wore a short, tight denim skirt and puffy white blouse. Both women sport ’80s bouffant hair and thick, deliciously colorful eye shadow. They smile widely and nearby Frank beams proudly, wearing a blue pin-striped seersucker suit and red bow tie. He waves at the crowd, handsome sunburned face smiling under his panama hat. Ted stands meekly at the back of the float, looking like he wants to be anywhere but there.
Henry flips the screen back to him. “After the parade, Frank had a little party at his downtown Summerville house. As I said, it washot. Guests sucked champagne pops and stuck their feet in kiddie pools in the backyard. It was sometime on that hot afternoon that Mirabel and Frank, drunk on Lila Mae’s specialty champagne pops and whatever other cocktails came out, slipped off alone in the house.”
“Oh...” I mutter, completely sober now.
“Whether Ted or Lila Mae noticed their missing spouses that afternoon is unclear. But in the days to come, Miss Lila Mae knew something had happened. Tensions brewed at the gardening shop, culminating in the Piggly Wiggly fight. Mirabel found herself pregnant by the end of the summer, and it was clear to the couples that what happened that afternoon wasn’t about to go away. The shop closed. Afraid of scandal, Frank stepped down as mayor.”
“And Ted?”
Henry smiles and shrugs. “He kept working at the bank.”
My mouth goes dry, and I swallow. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
“I sure am. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to scare you with my suspicions, but when I went to the house, I didn’t just go for the letters. I took some hair from one of Heathcliff’s combs. My investigator sent me the results today. Lizzie, Frank Dubose was Philip’s father.”
“Mirabel slept with the mayor, and he fathered Philip?Thisis the secret she’s been going nuts about?”
Henry nods. “I don’t think the affair lasted long, and even though the couples parted ways, Frank wanted to do the right thing. He set up a trust fund for Philip, and over the years, as his real estate grew, he contributed regularly. It’s fairly sizable at this point, and when I finally got my hands on the paperwork, I saw it’s true—none of the money is Ted’s. It’s all from Frank Dubose.”
I blink away tears. “This was what Philip wanted to tell me that night. He put it all together and confronted her.”
“It is,” Henry says gently. Then he taps the bundle at his desk. “The letters, the photos. They opened up suspicions he’d had for years. That’s how I got the whole story—flirtatious notes between Mirabel and Frank. Furious letters from LilaMae to Mirabel. It was quite the soap opera, and I can’t help but wonder why Mirabel hung on to them for all these years, up in that attic for Philip to find.”
“I’d like to know that too. And I get that hooking up with the mayor is something she’s probably not proud of, but why is she so anxious about it now? It was almost forty years ago. Philip wouldn’t have judged her for what she did. But he would have wanted her to tell him the truth. He must have been so hurt. I wonder what happened that night. Like did she try to lie?”
Henry shakes his head. “I think Mirabel’s the only one who can fill in those blanks. Look, the trust paperwork is sound. I know you’re not really in a place where you need money, but the trust should cover Heathcliff’s college. Frank handled the legal part right. The issue now is closure for you—and I think for all involved.”
I bite my lip. It’s not going to be easy to get Mirabel to talk.
“I’m curious, Henry. Did Frank ever see Philip?”
Henry rubs his beard. “I’m working on that end. So far, the Duboses have been as closed-off as Mirabel. But in my line of work, I’ve learned people can act pretty shitty while underneath all that almost everyone has a beating heart. You can’t tell me he put that money faithfully into that trust for his son and grandson and didn’t think of them at all. I just can’t believe that.”
I pick up my teacup and take another sip.
“That’s not tea in there, is it?” Henry asks, grinning.
“No.”
