High Society Down

By C.R. Moore

It is March 2017 and Tom and Shirley Smith are embracing a new chapter in their lives after Toms retirement from the Air Force. With the country teetering on the brink of economic collapse, Tom and Shirley relocate to Turnerville, Mississippi, to renovate an old farmhouse. Seeking a safe haven from what they anticipate will be a dismal future in America, the retired couple settles in without any idea of what lies ahead.

After a trip to the local hardware store prompts an introduction to the owner, he invites the Smiths to a party where they are introduced to a group of affluent people who share their political views. Soon, the Smiths have several new friends known for hosting elaborate parties at their magnificent plantation estates. In the midst of elegant soirees, ongoing dinner parties, and economic collapse and recovery, there are episodes of personal tragedy that bring this group of friends even closer together as they offer one another love and support.

High Society Down is the compelling tale about a well-to-do group of friends in a small Mississippi town who stand together through success, failure, and tragedy, and learn to appreciate the simplest of things in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Dec 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480813489

C.R. Moore

C.R. Moore is a native of Mississippi who now lives in Louisiana with her husband of fifty years. This is her first novel.

Book preview

Prologue

Highway 19 stretches from north to south across Mississippi with an occasional crossroad leading to a small town along the way. One of those crossroads is Glendale Road. A sign indicates that a right turn will take you into downtown Turnerville.

The main street through Turnerville runs in front of the courthouse square. The old three-story brick courthouse stands in the square, surrounded by massive oak trees draped in hanging moss. A drive across town in any direction takes only five minutes, even when encountering a red light at every traffic signal.

As in many Southern towns, elegant old homes can be seen along the downtown streets near the city park, mainly occupied today by family heirs and local professionals. Extending in all directions from the downtown area to the outskirts of town are houses of moderate size and smaller that have popped up over the years.

To the east of town, three large estates reflecting the plantation era each sit on hundreds of acres. These are no longer working plantations, but in the past, fields of sugarcane and cotton were planted, harvested, and transported by train to Natchez for shipment upriver to the north or downriver to New Orleans. Today these estates are occupied by heirs.

J. Marten Road runs east off the main highway a few miles south of town.

Forty acres with a farmhouse is fronted by this road that winds and curves past what appear to be tracts of old pastureland interspersed with heavily wooded acres.

A white fence that seems to connect to the edge of the woods stretches across the front of a large section of the property—ten acres, to be exact—which was once cleared of undergrowth and pine trees. Today, live oaks and other hardwoods stand tall among flowering trees, such as crape myrtle, magnolia, dogwood, and pear. It is spring, and the azalea and bridal wreath bushes scattered throughout are popping out in shades of lavender, white, pink, and deep red.

Spears of sunshine projecting through the canopy of trees seem to offer a blessing over this ethereal landscape.

A gate strategically placed in the middle of the expanse of fencing gives access to a driveway that meanders through the breathtaking topography until ending alongside an old farmhouse.

On the east side of the ten acres is a pecan orchard where rows of mature trees reach out to one another with their gracefully sprawling branches.

Miller Creek runs north to south across the east side of the property near the orchard and emanates the steady, rhythmic sound of water rising and falling over rocks. J. Marten Road reaches a dead end a mile before the creek. On the other side of the creek, the woods continue undisturbed.

Tom and Shirley Smith decided to move to Turnerville and renovate the old farmhouse after Tom’s retirement from the air force.

Tom’s dad invested in properties throughout Alabama and Mississippi, selling some of them when the time was right. This jewel and a few other properties that he held on to were left to Tom when he died.

The property was absolutely magnificent, and the farmhouse had good bones but would need renovation. Tom’s dad owned Smith Construction in Alabama, and Tom worked with him while in high school and college. He was confident that he could take on this project. For the time being, the Smiths would park the motor home a little ways back on the property and live in it until renovations were complete.

In their thirty years of marriage, Tom and Shirley were stationed in the United States, Germany, and Japan. Tom, a recently retired major general, was also deployed twice to Afghanistan as a tactical air control party liaison.

The United States was presently in political turmoil. A socialistically oriented president was about to drive the country over the edge. Health care was gravely threatened, leading in the direction of socialized medicine. The national debt was huge, and the country was rapidly heading toward economic collapse.

Tom and Shirley felt that a rural environment would offer a safe haven when needed. In March of 2017, they made the move to Turnerville. Never in their wildest dreams did they foresee the social life extraordinaire they were about to be introduced to, and they didn’t expect to meet a group of new friends who, like themselves, were preparing for the worst of times.

Renovation began right away. A local hardware store had a large stock of building supplies. That’s where the Smiths met Pete Allen, the owner.

Pete immediately showed a sincere interest in Tom and Shirley. Tom told him where they were living, and Pete said, "I know exactly where you are. That’s the old Marten place. I spent a lot of time there when I was young. Joe Marten’s son, Philip, and I went to school together. Philip lives in California now.

"I heard that someone bought it years ago. One day, I even took a ride out there, but it didn’t appear as if anyone was living there.

"It’s good to have you in Turnerville. I’m glad you’re restoring the old farmhouse. It’s on a beautiful piece of property.

I’d like for you to meet my wife, Denise. She’ll want you to come for cocktails and dinner one night, and we’ll introduce you to a few other people.

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Chapter 1

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O n a Friday morning in late March, Shirley reminded Tom over breakfast, Don’t forget, we’re invited to Pete and Denise Allen’s for six thirty. I’m not sure how they dress for parties in Turnerville, but I think I’ll wear my off-white linen dress with low-heeled pumps and an unpretentious necklace and earrings. What do you think?

Tom replied, Shirley, you always look lovely, and in this small town, I doubt if anyone is going to be dressed to the nines.

She agreed that he was probably right but thought she’d play it safe anyway.

Tom went to the farmhouse to do some work. It was a very basic raised structure supported by concrete pillars two feet high, with a wide covered porch across the front.

The front door was located toward the left side of the porch and opened into the living room. The kitchen was situated directly behind the living room, with an arched opening between the two rooms. A doorway on the right side of the living room led into a hallway that subsequently opened into two bedrooms. A bathroom was located at the end of the hall. A porch across the back of the house had been extended out several feet and enclosed by a previous owner. This added a large room that could be accessed from the kitchen. A second bathroom was added back there as well.

The house was structurally sound. The concrete pillars were still standing firm underneath. However, it desperately needed updating, and Tom had the ability to do that. Shirley had some great design ideas. She could turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse.

At noon, Shirley walked over to the farmhouse with some lunch for Tom. Before heading back to the motor home, she said, Tom, please remember to quit a little earlier this afternoon so that you’ll have time to get dressed for tonight.

That evening at six thirty, Tom turned off the main highway onto a road with a sign that read Dead End. He drove for five miles and then turned down a private lane through the woods. The lane seemed to twist and turn forever until a pond came into view. A small island could be seen in the middle of the pond, and a statue of a Grecian lady standing on the edge of the island appeared to be pouring water from a vessel into the pond.

The lane continued around the island until reaching a cobblestone driveway that led up to a tall, stately, sprawling mansion with a huge porch across the front. It was surrounded by meticulously landscaped flower beds.

What a fabulous place, said Shirley.

There were several vehicles parked out front.

The moment they stepped out of Shirley’s SUV, they saw Pete coming from around the side of the house.

Hello, Tom and Shirley, he said. I’m so glad you’re here. It’s a nice evening, so we decided to do this outside. Please come around back and join us. Our other guests cannot wait to meet the newcomers. Did you have any trouble finding us back here?

Not a bit of trouble, said Tom. Your directions were great. I would have never guessed that anything was back here.

I’m glad to hear that, responded Pete. That’s exactly the way I want it. A couple of years ago, I decided to take down the sign at the highway that said Allen Drive and put up the Dead End sign. When the economy collapses and the pillaging starts, I don’t want to invite trouble.

They followed a cobblestone path around to the rear of the house. Pete’s wife, Denise, saw them coming and walked toward them with her hands extended. When she reached them, she said, You have to be the new folks in town that Pete met at the store. Welcome to our home. I’m so happy you’re able to join us. Come over to the bar first and get a cocktail; I’ll start introductions.

A handsome Jamaican-looking man was behind the bar. Denise said to them, I want to introduce you to Jake. He came to have cocktails with us and then got roped into tending bar for a little while. Jake, these are our new friends, Tom and Shirley Smith.

Jake reached out, shook their hands, and in a very pleasant voice said, Welcome, Tom and Shirley. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your pleasure? I have anything you’d like.

Tom requested a scotch and soda, and Shirley opted for an old-fashioned. A maid appeared with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and they helped themselves to a canapé with a little shrimp on top.

Once they had their drinks, Denise started introductions, circulating among the small groups of people who were standing around sipping cocktails and discussing politics, news, weather, and local gossip. Politics, however, was the main topic of conversation. It was quite evident that the current president of the United States was not popular with this crowd. A few people offered opinions on the government and the economy, and then someone asked Tom what he thought.

He replied, "I’m in total agreement. I have very negative feelings in regard to the current commander in chief.

"For one thing, our military troops don’t receive adequate backup or support when needed. None of us have forgotten the Ghondalbo incident. But that’s another topic; back to the economy. I don’t think this president is interested in reversing the economic landslide that’s about to bury this country. I honestly believe he’s planning to use the impending financial and governmental collapse as an opportunity to move us into socialism.

This is precisely what motivated us to move to Turnerville. Of course, I inherited the property and farmhouse from my dad, and we love the place, but we decided to settle in this rural area because we realize that surviving a total shutdown of the country will mean living off the land. Also, there is so much crime in the nation’s larger cities; just think what will happen when food, water, and drugs are no longer accessible.

One of the guests, George, said, "Tom, your opinion of the situation is exactly the same as the rest of us. Pete’s grandmother and my wife’s grandmother were sisters. Over a century ago, their parents’ four-hundred-acre estate was divided, two hundred acres for one sister and two hundred for the other. Heidi and I live in the original house next door, which is accessible from Highway 22. Pete’s grandfather built this lovely home on their two hundred acres and put in the road that you took off Highway 19 tonight. Both estates are quite secluded.

Pete and I have been preparing for the expected downfall for some time. We have supplies and equipment on hand, not to mention ample food sources on both estates. Our goal is to be able to provide for family and friends for an indefinite period of time.

Denise interrupted then, saying, I do agree that we have done and must continue to do everything to prepare ourselves for what’s ahead; however, tonight, let’s get away from this morose topic and just enjoy ourselves.

The evening was absolutely beautiful and the weather delightful. A large patio extended out from the rear of the house. From the patio, french doors led into a room—more than likely a den or family room, and tonight they had been left open, probably because the evening air was pleasant, and the maid was in and out with trays of hors d’oeuvres.

Shirley could not help but notice that all the ladies were wearing really nice cocktail attire. She was glad that she’d made the decision to keep it simple but classic chic. She worked as a model during her college years and for a few years after graduation. At sixty-five, she still had a very slim figure, but the thing that usually set her apart was the knowledge of fashion she acquired while modeling. She was confident in her appearance.

At seven thirty, Pete got everyone’s attention and let them know that dinner was being served. Set up across the patio were several round tables with four chairs each. Every table had a crisp, white tablecloth and a small floral centerpiece.

The guests moved toward the tables and gathered in a group. Pete let them know that he was going to say grace, and they reached out to one another, holding hands and bowing their heads.

Following the blessing, everyone selected a table and sat down. Pete and Denise asked Tom and Shirley to join them at their table.

The maid that had been passing around the hors d’oeuvres—a black lady named Lucy—was now joined by another black lady named Katie, and the two of them began placing dinner plates with rack of lamb, au gratin potatoes, and steamed asparagus in front of each guest.

The nice-looking man named Jake came over to their table and said to Pete, I’m going to leave now. I want to finish up some paperwork. Aaron is back, and he’s opening the wine.

Pete said to him, Jake, I’m glad you could join us for cocktails. I wish you could stay for dinner. Thanks for taking over the bar for me. I’ll see you in the morning.

Jake gave Denise a pat on the shoulder, and she said, Good night, Jake. See you tomorrow.

Jake said to Tom and Shirley, Nice to meet you. Hope to see you again soon.

Tom stood up and shook hands with him. They both told him good night. As he was leaving, the other guests said good-bye to him.

A black man dressed in black pants and a white shirt, presumably Aaron, brought wine around to the tables and filled the glasses.

Dinner conversations resonated as a constant hum across the patio, with intermittent laughter and the soft sound of background music playing.

Tom and Shirley enjoyed chatting with Pete and Denise, who really were cornerstones of the community, with Pete having been born on the property and Denise coming as a new bride fifty-three years prior. Denise and Pete met when they were attending the University of Mississippi. They were married in their senior year. After graduation they moved here, and Pete joined his dad in the family business.

Shirley was fascinated by Denise’s account of the way we were back then, referring to elegant galas at the Turnerville Country Club, which evidently had long since fizzled out.

I’m telling you, said Denise in her lovely Southern drawl, those were the days of fabulous dances, dinners, wedding receptions, anniversary parties, and always a big New Year’s Eve celebration with a fireworks display at midnight, followed by breakfast.

She continued, The younger people who have remained in Turnerville are not as interested in that type of social life; some of them don’t even like to dance. Those of us who worked to keep the club going at one time are now older, and it’s easier to entertain at home. Large groups or small, big galas with music and dancing, or just cocktails and dinner, it doesn’t matter. We love to socialize, and we don’t miss an occasion.

Shirley responded, I think we are very fortunate to have moved to a small town with such a large spirit. I can’t wait until our renovations are complete so that we can have some of you over. I love to entertain.

Denise said, You’re going to fit right in here, my dear.

Aaron helped Lucy remove the dinner plates from the tables, and then returned to his post at the bar. Katie brought out the dessert.

Wine continued to flow, and some guests remained at the tables to sip and visit, while others meandered back over to the bar for another cocktail.

By nine thirty, most of the guests were departing for home, thanking Denise and Pete for the wonderful evening. Tom and Shirley exchanged a look indicating that it was time for them to say good night as well. Tom and Pete shook hands as Tom thanked him for having them. Shirley thanked Denise for the lovely evening, and Denise gave her a hug, saying, I’m so glad you came. I hope to get together with you again very soon.

They said good night to the other guests and walked back around the house via the path that led to the driveway. There was ample lighting all around the house, so there was no problem finding the way; however, another black man was out front, making sure that everyone got to their cars. Shirley heard some of the guests tell him goodnight—they called him Dane.

Once they were in the SUV and headed down the driveway, Tom asked Shirley, Did you get a tour of the house? I saw Denise take your arm and lead you in the back door.

Shirley responded, Not the entire house. Denise wanted to show me a piece of art that she bought at a gallery in Jackson last year, so I saw some of the first floor. It is gorgeous!

They discussed the evening the rest of the way home. Shirley said, Tom, I’d love to have a cocktail party after we finish renovating. That was really a nice dinner party. It must be wonderful to have so much help. There were two maids and a male helper serving food and wine, and there was that other man, Dane, out front seeing that everyone got to their cars. Listening to the conversations, parties are frequent. Some are dinner parties like the one tonight, and others are really big. I wonder how wealthy these people are.

Tom responded, There seems to be a lot of money in this town—old family money, old family businesses, and old family estates like Pete’s. I know you heard what George said about his and Pete’s estates connecting, but did you hear Garland, one of the physicians, say that his estate is behind Pete’s?

No, said Shirley, I missed that.

Well, evidently, the river runs between them, said Tom. "Tonight, we met the owners of the three big plantation estates in this area, along with a few other couples. Of course, the plantation days are over for all three of the estates, but they are still elegant mansions on beautiful grounds.

"You mentioned the two maids and the two men helping out tonight. It’s my understanding that all three estates still have the original servants’ quarters that date back to the early plantation days. Pete brought that up tonight. He told me that the caretakers, cooks, maids, butlers, and so forth, are all full-time employees who permanently reside on the estates. The cottages on Pete’s estate were remodeled years ago. Today they have modern appliances, satellite service for televisions and computers, and comfortable furnishings. I’m sure the other two estates have upgraded their servants’ quarters as well. How many employers can offer the benefit of rent-free housing in addition to a weekly salary?

There are quite a few professionals in this group of friends. Robert is an attorney. Garland and Keith are physicians and partners in a medical practice. Paul is a pharmacist and the owner of Ritz Drugstore in town. George is a retired architect.

Shirley said, Isn’t it interesting to move to this area for the reason we did and to come across professional, intelligent, and well-informed people who, like us, are aware, concerned, and preparing to deal with the inevitable?

Very interesting, replied Tom. I can’t wait to have another opportunity to talk with Pete. I’d like to know more about what they’ve done to prepare.

Well, one thing I have to say is that while these people understand that the country is on the verge of collapse, they are not sitting around fretting over it. They are enjoying life to the fullest, and I think that’s wonderful, Shirley commented.

Tom turned onto J. Marten Road. It was a dark road at night, but soon they could see the white fence and then the gate.

They usually left the farmhouse porch light on at night. As they drove past it to the motor home, they both looked over at their work in progress. The renovated farmhouse would look great when it was completed, but it would never compare with the estate they visited that night.

Shirley said, I wonder if everyone comes up to the same standard for entertaining. The bar seems to be set really high.

Over breakfast the next morning, Tom and Shirley found themselves talking again about the new friends and how nice it was to be introduced to what seemed to be an ongoing lifestyle of high-end entertainment.

At about nine o’clock, Shirley phoned the Allen residence to thank Denise again for the lovely evening.

Denise said, Oh, Shirley, I’m so glad to hear from you. After you left last night, Mary Sadler and I were discussing a luncheon at her home on Tuesday. She asked me to invite you.

Shirley responded, Why, thank you. I would be delighted to join you. Can you give me directions?

I’m going to pick you up, replied Denise. I’ll be there at about eleven forty."

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Chapter 2

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T he days were constantly busy, with sounds of hammering, sawing, and sanding. They were definitely feeling driven to finish renovating so that they could move in. The motor home was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

The plan was to turn the room across the back of the house into a large bedroom with an adjoining study.

One thing Shirley really wanted was a nice front door that opened into a wide center hall down the middle of the house. To the left of that center hall, she envisioned a large dining room with access to the kitchen. To the right of the hall, she wanted a large living room, which meant knocking out the wall between the two existing bedrooms.

Tom assessed the construction of the house from floor to ceiling and came up with a plan that would allow widening the hallway to create a nice center hall and moving the front door without compromising major support walls.

Pete recommended a couple of local carpenters. Tom hired them to help him remove walls and reconstruct rooms.

On Tuesday, Denise came by at eleven forty as planned. Shirley got into her black Lincoln Town Car, and they headed north on Highway 19. At some point along the way, the highway started to roll across a much hillier terrain. Shirley loved the hillsides that bordered the highway. They were covered with what looked like morning glory in hues of blue and purple.

Denise asked her, Did you realize that we just passed my road?

Shirley said, I didn’t even notice it. I was busy admiring the lovely flowering hillsides along here.

Denise continued, The property you see bordering the highway here is ours. The Sadlers’ estate is directly behind us on the other side of the river. They’re on the north shore, and we’re on the south shore.

Shirley responded, I think Garland mentioned that to Tom at your dinner party the other night.

Yes, I think I did hear them discussing it, said Denise.

We have a hilly section of land that’s about a mile from the highway and not far from the river. There are a couple of caves in those hills. Pete has done a lot of research on the history of the area. There was definitely an Indian tribe living back there at one time.

"That is interesting," Shirley responded.

Denise said, "See that bridge just ahead? It crosses the Cane River. Once we get across the river, you’ll see the Sadler property bordering the highway on the other side.

"The railroad originally had train tracks running north to south where this highway is today. Trains transported cotton and sugarcane from here to Natchez and the Mississippi River boats took it from there.

The Cane River is one of those small, meandering rivers that can’t accommodate a ship but is perfect for fishing boats, ski boats, and so forth. In the early plantation days, it was a means of travel for flatboats carrying crops to meet the train. Of course, horse-drawn wagons were used as well.

A mile or two on the other side of the bridge, Denise turned off the highway and onto a road leading to Mary’s beautiful oak-lined driveway.

There were four vehicles parked out front, and Denise pulled her car in behind one of them. As they were getting out of the car, another vehicle came down the drive, and Denise said, Oh, there’s Joan. You met Joan and Keith at my house the other night. Keith is Garland’s partner.

Yes, I remember them, said Shirley.

Joan caught up with the two of them, and they walked up the steps to the front porch and rang the bell. A maid answered the door and invited them to follow her to the living room.

Mary was there with six other ladies. Two of them Shirley remembered from Denise’s party—Elizabeth and Cynthia. Mary introduced her to the others.

Following introductions, Mary said, Everyone’s here now, so come on back to my favorite room. We’re going to have mimosas.

They followed her through a loggia behind the living room and into an atrium. Shirley could see why this would be a favorite room. It was airy, spacious, and filled with beautiful antique wicker furniture. Huge pots of greenery were in place around the room. A few large plants almost reached the ceiling. A glass wall across the back overlooked a magnificently designed swimming pool with a fountain in the center.

Denise was standing next to Shirley. She said, Just like with our property, the river is quite a ways back and can’t be seen from here. They don’t have the trees that we have. Mary’s family did a lot of clearing. Pete’s dad loved the woodsy topography, and so does Pete; therefore, ours is heavily wooded.

Mimosas were served, and a tray of appetizers was passed around.

After about thirty minutes, the maid came into the atrium to inform Mary that lunch was served in the dining room.

Mary said, Let’s go have lunch and continue our visit.

They followed Mary to the dining room where a banquet-sized table was set for ten. There was a magnificent fresh floral arrangement in the center of the table, flanked on both sides by tall candelabras.

Crystal luncheon plates laden with chicken salad on a lettuce leaf surrounded by avocado and tomato slices were already in place on the table, each resting on a matching crystal charger.

The chicken salad was delicious, and a delightful fruit-flavored tea was served with it, followed by strawberries in mascarpone for dessert. During dessert, the conversation turned to bridge. Shirley learned that the four ladies she met for the first time that day were in Mary and Joan’s bridge club.

Shirley had played bridge a few times with some of the air force wives and felt that they always maintained a tediously rigid atmosphere during the game.

As she was listening, she knew that sooner or later, they were going to look her way and ask if she played bridge.

Just as expected, Joan asked, Shirley, do you play bridge? We are occasionally in need of a substitute.

Shirley was glad she was prepared for this and responded, I have played bridge in the past, but I’m afraid that for the next several months, I’m going to have all I can handle with the renovation of the farmhouse.

We certainly understand that, said Mary. Maybe after you finish renovating we can talk about it again.

It was about two thirty when the ladies began gathering their purses and searching for keys. Denise and Shirley were ready to leave as well. They both hugged Mary, thanking her for the wonderful lunch, and they said good-bye to the rest of the ladies.

On the way home, Denise shared a little history about how Garland and Keith became partners.

She said, "Mary was born in Turnerville—she grew up on the estate we just visited, and Garland was born in Louisiana.

"Mary attended nursing school in New Orleans, and after graduation, she decided to stay and work at Charity Hospital. Garland was chief resident in the ER. That’s how they met. After dating for a year, they were married.

"They lived in New Orleans