Belle Pointe

“Why wouldn’t you want to endorse him? He’s your brother.”

He bent his head, touching his bruised temple gently. “I have some serious concerns about Pearce. In a position of power—and in the right circumstances—I’m not sure he wouldn’t break the law. Or finagle a way around it. He can be really ruthless.” He knew firsthand just how ruthless his brother could be, but he hoped Anne didn’t ever have to know about it.

“You paint a pretty harsh picture,” she said.

“Yeah, I know. And I’ve never said that to anyone else…” he paused, “that is, anyone who’s living. I tried to talk to my dad once, but—” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s best to just leave it at that.” He was rubbing the muscle above his knee again. “Where was I?”

She spoke quietly. “You were going to step in and help your mother after John died.”

“Yeah, that was always the plan. I’d do the actual farming and as Pearce interacted well with the gentry of the county and state, he’d eventually wind up in politics.”

“Looks like half the plan is now set to go,” Anne said. “What went wrong?”

“First, we made our plans without consulting my mother,” Buck said. Staring straight ahead and focused on the past, he saw it all as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

With his father buried only two days, Victoria came into Buck’s bedroom as he was packing to return to college. With only half of his final semester to go, he was tempted to just forget it since he couldn’t see the value of a diploma. He’d already aced the courses for an undergraduate degree. And spring was a time of intensive work at Belle Pointe. With Pete Wilcox gone and his mother needing help, he planned to go back to Tallulah every weekend until graduation. But Victoria had a very different plan.

“Pearce will be assuming his role immediately as primary heir to Belle Pointe, Buck,” she told him. “Arrangements are in place to begin planting Monday morning with Pearce supervising. I want you to continue to pursue a career in professional baseball.”

Stunned, he dropped a double handful of toilet articles on the bed and stared at her. “Pearce is a lawyer, Ma. What are you talking about?”

“His law practice must take second place to his responsibilities at Belle Pointe now,” she told him. “I’m aware that your father has given you a completely false notion of your role here. However, it is absolutely appropriate for Pearce to take John’s place.”

“Yeah, but not to actually get his hands dirty. Pearce hates dirt.” What false notion? “You’ve found a replacement for Pete Wilcox already?”

“With Pearce stepping up to take his rightful place, that won’t be necessary.”

“Ma, this is crazy! He doesn’t know shit from shinola about farming and he doesn’t want to know. Have you talked to Pearce about this?”

“Don’t be vulgar. And of course, I’ve talked to Pearce. He sees his duty.”

Meaning, Buck guessed, that she’d talked to him and, bottom line, it was Victoria’s way or else. “And he’s okay with giving up his practice to farm cotton?”

“We’ve agreed that he doesn’t have to give it up, but it has to be secondary, especially just now when we’re in the throes of spring planting. I’m prepared to assist him, of course.”

He looked at her in disbelief. She couldn’t be serious. “You don’t assist anybody now, Ma, you run things and Dad was good to go with that. But you always had Pete’s help. Without a qualified manager, there’s no way you can do this.” He made a sudden decision and flipped the top of his suitcase closed. “Look, I can drop out of school. I’ll graduate in a couple of months anyway. I won’t get a diploma, but I don’t need a piece of paper. My future is here at Belle Pointe and always has been. I have ideas about crop management. There are new seeds constantly being developed. They’re resistant to disease, they’re hardy. I was talking to Dad and he—”

“Buck.” She spoke sharply, stopping him cold. “I’ve just told you what your future is. You will continue at the university until you have your degree. You are being courted by professional sports representatives—”

“In the minors, Ma, not majors.”

“…and you have excellent prospects. You will continue to pursue a career in that arena. You will thank me later for urging this decision on you.”

“No, Ma. Dad and I—”

“I have no interest in anything your father discussed with you!” she said with exasperation. “He was hopelessly sentimental and now he’s gone. His will gives me full authority here, so this discussion is pointless. Pearce is his heir, not you. And I want him to immediately assume the role that he was born to.”

He was shaking his head. “You can’t be serious, Ma. You—”

“Stop addressing me by that ridiculous, childish name!” she snapped. “I am indeed serious and that’s the end of it.”

But he couldn’t let it go. What she was suggesting was all wrong. He had to convince her. “Just hear me out, Mother. You may want Pearce to step up to the plate here, but he doesn’t have any feel for the land. He doesn’t like farming the way you do, the way I do. Since I was old enough to see the difference in your way and Dad’s way, I’ve known that. I’m more in tune with the way you feel about Belle Pointe than Pearce will ever be. You have to admit that.”

“I admit nothing,” she said coolly. “On the contrary, while you’ve been in school, Pearce has progressed very satisfactorily in running Belle Pointe.”

“I’ve been home every summer for three years and I haven’t noticed Pearce having any interest in farming,” Buck argued.

“He will do his duty,” Victoria stated doggedly.

For a long moment, Buck simply stared at her. He knew there was no way in hell that Pearce would willingly choose farming at Belle Pointe over practicing law. Pearce liked hobnobbing with the state’s movers and shakers. He liked wheeling and dealing. He liked using his birthright as a Whitaker of Belle Pointe as an asset, but he didn’t like getting up at daylight to supervise the crews until dark. He didn’t like to sweat or to get his hands dirty. So why was his mother pushing Buck out to hand Belle Pointe over to Pearce?

“What if my excellent prospects don’t pan out, Mother?” he asked. “And if there’s no place for me at Belle Pointe, where’s my place in your plan?”

“You have an excellent education and you’re intelligent,” she said. “That is more than many young men start out with.” She moved regally to the door. “Now, finish packing and Pearce will help you carry your things to the car.”

Telling it to Anne now, Buck waited for the bitterness that always came when he thought of that conversation with his mother, but to his surprise it didn’t hurt as much as it once did.

“How could she?” Anne whispered, shocked.

“The thing that galls me most to this day is that I begged her to change her mind,” he said quietly. “She told me that my dreams for Belle Pointe weren’t going to happen, that she was handing it over to Pearce who didn’t give a damn about innovations in crop management or experimental projects like other planters to keep from depleting soil nutrients. Dad knew I had my heart set on trying new stuff, that I’d spent four years leaning to make a difference at Belle Pointe and she slammed the door in my face.”

He read a mix of sympathy and bafflement in Anne’s expression and gave a sheepish shrug. “I guess I sound like a big crybaby, don’t I? Hell, she was right after all. My baseball career did take off—even though it took a few years. And now I have a very healthy portfolio, a house in St. Louis, condos in Vail and West Palm Beach, a couple of really fast cars, a beautiful wife—” He stopped with a wry grin. “I do still have a wife, don’t I?”

She said nothing, simply shook her head.