Page 117 of Hello, Summer
“Here’s to all of us. The hardest-working staff in the business. Here’s to fighting the good fight, and as old Dub DuBignon used to say, ‘shining the light of truth.’”
They touched cups and sipped the cold, bubbly wine. They drained the bottle, then got back to work.
Conley was reading back through her notes of the phone conversation with Miles Schoendienst when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and grabbed for it.
“Hey, Skelly.”
“Hey there,” he said. “I know you’re probably on deadline or something, but there’s someone here at the store who’d like a few minutes of your time. And I’ve got a feeling you’d like to talk to her too.”
“Who is it?”
He lowered his voice. “It’s Toddie Robinette.”
Skelly met her at the door. Two or three customers were in the store, one waiting near the pharmacy counter. “She’s back in the office,” he said. “I thought the two of you might want some privacy.”
“Did she say what she wants?” Conley asked. “Does she look pissed?”
“She’s carrying a big grocery sack, but I don’t think she’s packing heat,” Skelly said, cracking a smile. “I wouldn’t say she looked pissed. More like, serious.”
He helped her navigate the narrow, cluttered aisles of the stockroom, stopping at the open door of a small office. Toddie Robinette sat on a metal folding chair across from a battered steel tanker desk. He poked his head inside.
“Here’s Conley. Can I get you ladies some coffee or something?”
“Not for me,” Conley said.
“No, thanks,” Toddie said.
“Then I’ll leave you to it. Make yourselves at home.”
“Thanks for reaching out to me, Mrs. uh, Robinette,” Conley started, sitting behind Skelly’s desk.
“It’s Ms. Sanderson, but everybody calls me Toddie,” she said quickly. “I haven’t beenMrs. Robinettein over thirty-four years.”
Toddie had obviously taken pains with her appearance. Unlike the day they’d dropped in on her at Oak Springs Farm, today she was dressed in tailored beige slacks and a white silk blouse. Her silver hair was pulled back from her face with a pair of tortoiseshell clasps, and the only makeup she wore was a bit of lipstick. A bulging shopping bag sat near her feet.
She crossed, then uncrossed her legs. “I know I told you I didn’t want to comment about Symmes’s death, but since that article you wrote in theBeacon,my children have convinced me that I should, I don’t know…”
“Set the record straight?” Conley suggested.
“Something like that.”
Conley took her cell phone from her backpack and set it on the desktop. “Would it be okay if I taped our conversation?”
“Is that really necessary?”
“I won’t if you object,” Conley said. “It’s mostly to make sure I quote you accurately. I’m going to take notes too.”
Toddie wore a wide white gold band on her left ring finger. She twisted it around and around. “I suppose that’s okay,” she said. “This is really about my kids,” she added. “When Vanessa told you Symmes had no contact with them and that he didn’t even remember their names, that was incredibly hurtful to them. They were so damn mad! Especially Rebecca. They’d just lost their dad. And to see Vanessa spout lies like that.” She shook her head.
“Are you saying that Symmeswasn’testranged from y’all? That you had a good relationship with him?”
“Up until very recently, it’s true, he’d had very little contact with me or the kids. But that was the way Vanessa wanted it, not the kids. She absolutely forbade him to have contact with them. And I only contacted him through his attorney.”
“Why was that?” Conley asked.
“I think she wanted to rewrite history. Make it so that she was his first and only love and their son was his only child.”
“And the congressman was okay with that?”
