Full Cry by Rita Mae Brown Page B

good manners, nonetheless. “However, my lecture was on the development of ornamentation in furniture during the eighteenth century.”
    â€œA passion?” Tedi’s eyebrows lifted.
    â€œIndeed.” He inclined his head.
    â€œEnglish and French furniture from the eighteenth century is beautiful,” Sister joined in. “Is there anyone who can make such pieces today?”
    â€œYes.” His voice was measured. “A few, precious few. It’s not talent, you see, it’s temperament.”
    Both women smiled.
    Walter said, “I never thought of that, Dr. Hill.”
    â€œCall me Dalton, please.”
    â€œDalton, you hunt in Canada, don’t you?” asked Walter.
    â€œIf you’re going to be here for any time at all, please hunt with us.” Sister extended an invitation.
    â€œYou are the master, I believe?” Dalton had been informed of Sister’s status when he asked Bobby Franklin who the tall, striking-looking gray-haired woman was.
    â€œI am, and I’m a lucky woman.”
    Ronnie Haslip came by, Xavier and Dee behind him. They swept Walter and Dalton along with them after a few more comments.
    â€œHas an air about him.” Tedi sniffed.
    â€œWinding, are you, Tedi?”
    They laughed and headed back to the bar. Tedi ordered another scotch on the rocks, and Sister asked for a tonic water on the rocks with a twist of lime.
    Donnie, who had been nipping a little here and there behind the bar, quickly made the drinks. “Ladies.”
    â€œI couldn’t help but notice your rifle and the scope the other day. What a beautiful piece of equipment.” Sister took her drink from him, fished a dollar bill out of the unobtrusive slit in her dress, dropped it in the tip glass.
    â€œThank you.” He nodded, then said, “I saved and saved. Cost me over two thousand five hundred dollars.” He paused for effect. “I’ll go without food to get the best. Makes a huge difference.”
    â€œYes, it does,” Sister replied.
    â€œClay Berry is tight as a tick with his employees.”
    Tedi piped up. “I know you went without food.”
    They moved back into the crowd, after a few more words with Donnie.
    â€œI suppose I ought to find my husband. It’s ten, and the roads will be dreadful.”
    â€œI ought to move on, too. Thought maybe Gray Lorillard would be here.”
    â€œDo you know he’s rented the dependency over at Chapel Cross, the Vajay’s place? Haven’t they just brought that farm back to life?” Tedi paused. “Alex is here,” she mentioned the husband. “Solange should be here, too. Well, there’re so many people packed in here, I think I’ve missed half of them.”
    Tedi put her drink down on a silver tray, half-finished. She’d had enough. “I study how different civilizations deal with wealth. How different people deal with it.” She could say anything to Sister. “The truth is, few people can handle it, whether it was China in the seventeenth century, a great industrial fortune in Germany in the nineteenth, or today, dotcom, that sort of thing.”
    â€œYou’ve managed.”
    â€œI was trained since birth, Janie. When you make it in your lifetime, it’s quite savage really. You’re a stranger from your own children who never had to fight for it. I was fortunate in that our money was made with Fulton, with the steamboat fortune. It has been prudently invested and managed ever since. I grew up in a milieu that understood resources and understood restraint. Edward, of course, has more recent wealth. His grandfather developed refrigeration for food processing, transporting foods. But the Bancrofts were and are people of common sense. They kept working, kept producing. But we were all born and raised before the Second World War. Times have changed.”
    â€œYes, but they always have.”
    â€œThen let’s hope