Marianne gave in to temptation and followed, softly tapping on his closed bedroom door.
Sam tore it open a moment later, hope on his face, but it vanished when he saw her. “Oh,” he said, his shoulders drooping. “I thought Papa was back with Bandit.”
She followed him inside and sat on the edge of his bed. “I think Bandit will be staying at our house for a while.”
“Can you get him back?” he pleaded. “Please, Aunt Marianne. I promise I won’t ever cheat again. I won’t be a mailman. I’ll study hard and work in Papa’s office and be part of the family dynasty. Just please help me get Bandit back.”
She ruffled his hair and gave him a reassuring smile. She couldn’t make any promises, nor was she going to undermineAndrew’s decisions in this matter. She just wished she came from a normal family where harsh punishments and raging tantrums were not standard fare.
Maybe someday she would have such a family, but she was learning that constantly seeking appeasement carried its own set of problems.
Marianne was surprised not to see Bandit when she returned home that evening. Her father merely shrugged off her questions about the dog, and all Vera could do was complain about how Delia had mishandled the situation.
“No wonder that boy is growing up weak-willed,” she said. “I certainly hope Andrew puts his foot down.”
“No fear of that,” Clyde said as he continued smoking a cheroot, perusing the evening newspaper.
Her grandfather sat in the corner of the parlor, whittling a block of wood. At eighty years of age, Jedidiah had turned over management of the food company to his son and grandson. He now lived with Clyde in a mansion that was a far cry from the cabin with a dirt floor where he’d been born, but her grandfather had never lost the backwoods twang in his accent.
“Andrew’s too hard and Delia’s too soft,” Jedidiah said. “No wonder the boy is a little screwy.”
That triggered another round of discussion about Delia’s shortcomings, since no one was allowed to say a critical word about Andrew. Soon responsibility for Sam’s cheating had been entirely ascribed to Delia’s failings as a mother, and Marianne would rather do anything than continue this discussion.
“How was your day at Magruder Food?” she asked Clyde, eager to divert the topic.
Clyde folded up the newspaper and flashed her a delighted grin. “Fabulous! Andrew is learning quickly and rolling out anew process for pickling cucumbers. It should cut production time in half and earn a pretty penny once it’s implemented.”
It wouldn’t have happened without Clyde’s mentorship. Andrew followed in lockstep behind her father, and maybe that was for the best. There certainly hadn’t been any changes in their position on artificial fillers or chemical preservatives under Andrew’s leadership. What if Luke was right? Could Andrew ever develop the fortitude to change the direction of the company?
Her attention began to wander. If Luke had his way, her father’s political career would come to an end in November, and that would be terrible. She could never forgive Luke if he wantonly destroyed her father’s career, for she owed Clyde Magruder the world. What other man would take an illegitimate child into his home and lavish her with as much affection as Clyde had done?
Vera turned in early. Spending time with Delia always wore her out, but particularly so today, considering the uproar over Sam. Her father retreated into his study to deal with paperwork, and Marianne pounced on the opportunity to coax her grandfather into a late evening stroll.
The crickets chirped as they set out down the slate pathway toward the street. She loved this walk beneath the spreading oak trees. The homes on this street were so stately, with their manicured lawns and the lights glowing inside the windows. It made it look like happy families lived inside.
“Fine night for a stroll,” Jedidiah said. “Anything to escape the catawampus at Andrew’s house. And we ain’t heard the end of it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I done told you,” Jedidiah said. “Andrew is too hard with the boy, and Delia is too soft. It ain’t going to end well.”
Something about his ominous tone made her suspect he knew something. Jedidiah had been home all day and mighthave more insight into what went on this afternoon. Many of the homes had their windows open, so she waited until they passed Andrew and Delia’s house to broach her question.
“Where is Bandit?” she asked, watching her grandfather carefully.
Jedidiah scowled. “Bandit is gone.”
Obviously he wasn’t at their house, but how long did Andrew intend to keep the dog away as punishment this time? She’d be happy to take Bandit to Washington again. Dogs bonded with people, so he shouldn’t be left with strangers.
“Gone where?” she pressed.
Jedidiah sighed. “I’m sorry to say that he’s gone for good. Andrew had one of the boys down at the stable shoot him dead.”
“No!” She stopped walking, too light-headed to keep moving. “No, I can’t believe it. Even Andrew wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Believe it,” Jedidiah said. “Delia never liked that dog. Bandit sometimes brings fleas into the house, and you know how she is about that house. Andrew got to please his wife and punish his son, all with one bullet.”
Andrew had always been hard, but this went beyond the pale. Her gaze trailed down the street, where Andrew and Delia’s palatial house sat on a two-acre lot, the lights softly burning inside. How could someone who lived in such a picturesque home do something so foul?
