Page 3 of Where the Rivers Merge

Swallow-tailed kites (Elanoides forficatus) are striking raptors with narrow, pointed wings and a long, deeply forked tail. Their bright-white head and underparts contrast dramatically with gleaming black wings, back, and tail. The swallow-tailed kite soars effortlessly, swooping and gliding, a joy to watch. The species is listed as endangered in South Carolina.

1988

At the door of the ballroom, I paused to collect my wits. The appointed hour for the shareholders meeting had arrived.

I looked down and gazed at the walking stick in my hand. It was one of my most precious possessions. The head of the stick had been painstakingly carved into a swallow-tailed kite by the father of my beloved childhood friend Covey. Wilton had been the caretaker and manager of Mayfield for as long as I could remember, serving both me and my father with unwavering loyalty.

But—the image of an old woman needing assistance to walk was not one I wanted to present at this important meeting. I tucked the cane under my arm, straightened my shoulders, and nodded. The heavy wooden doors were opened.

Twenty-some DeLancey and Chalmers family members were already gathered in the elegant room. But it was the whispers of the past that enveloped me. Portraits of family ancestors stared at me from the cream-colored walls. Echoes of DuBose Heyward, Josephine Pinckney, Alice Ravenel Huger Smith, George Gershwin, and others who’d been entertained in this room swirled under the enormous chandeliers.

Happy birthday! You’re looking so well. This is my favorite day of the year. We love to visit you in this lovely house. I was besieged by guests offering birthday salutations. I spotted Arthur and his family clustered near the front of the room. Arthur was moving from group to group, shaking hands, pausing to laugh, patting backs, and guiding people to take their seats. He glided over to my side and kissed me on the cheek.

“Mother, you’re here. Are you ready to begin the meeting?”

He offered his elbow and escorted me to my chair near the podium.

At my seat he leaned over to kiss my cheek. Et tu Brute? I thought.

Arthur stood in front of the podium and the chatter subsided. I listened as he welcomed the family to Charleston and offered the requisite opening joke. This was followed by the acknowledgment of the board of directors, and finally the board secretary’s reading of the previous year’s minutes. When finished, as CEO, I was scheduled to deliver the state of the corporation. But as I prepared to rise, Arthur began speaking again.

“Before we get into the details of business,”

he said, “I’d like to take time to sing my mother’s praises on this special day.”

I glanced across the room at Bobby Lee. He knitted his brows and shook his head.

“Eliza Rivers was born at the beginning of this century at Mayfield, a place of singular history and importance to everyone in this room. In her lifetime, she has gone from a world of unpaved roads and horse-drawn carriages to automobiles and to space travel. She has lived through two world wars, the Great Depression and its crushing poverty, and then like a phoenix rose to untold wealth. After the passing of my dear father, James Livingston DeLancey, more than thirty years ago, my mother took the helm and turned the collection of businesses my father had started into a conglomerate of corporations and subsidiaries that today is the DeLancey Group.”

He turned toward me and said with gravity, “Thank you, Mother. Well done.”

A murmur of agreement and mild applause sounded in the room.

Dear father? I thought with incredulousness. In truth, stepfather . . . James didn’t care one whit for Arthur as a child. Barely knew he was alive. He’d wanted his own child, his own bloodline. Something I could never give him.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Today, as we celebrate Eliza Rivers Chalmers DeLancey’s eighty-eighth birthday. . . .”

He paused, then said again in the manner of announcing a great achievement, “Eighty-eight years! Isn’t that a triumph?”

He joined the applause, smiling back at me.

I see what you’re doing, I thought. Hammering the point of my age.

When the group quieted, Arthur continued. “At this crossroads, as her son, I have to speak up. . . . I believe my mother has earned the right to step away from the harness at last. To enjoy a peaceful life of retirement.”

He paused to begin clapping.

The family responded with weak applause, turning to me with questioning glances. I sat ramrod straight, expressionless.

Gripping the sides of the podium, Arthur said in a daring voice, “With that view, I am proposing today that we vote to create mandatory retirement at sixty-five years of age for every CEO, effective immediately.”

A stunned silence followed, then a rumble of discontent and shouts for Arthur to sit down. I perched like an eagle on my chair as I scanned the crowd, taking mental notes of who did what.

“We, the DeLancey Group, are at a crossroads,”

Arthur declared, bringing the meeting back to order. “As I’m sure most of you are aware, the majority of Mayfield’s vast acreage has recently been placed by Mrs. DeLancey, as a trustee, under a conservation easement with the Nature Conservancy. This effectively removes the land as an asset of the DeLancey Group. In perpetuity,”

he added with emphasis. “What this means for all of you is, you will not receive the dividends from the sale of this land.”

The audience leaned forward, listening acutely now.

“And there is still the matter of the final thousand acres as yet not placed under conservation. The value of which, in today’s market, is in the millions.”

He paused again, looking at the board. “Will this land also be allowed to be put into conservation and thus removed from the DeLancey Group’s assets? Forgive me, Mother, but I say it should not!”

He paused to let that sink in.

I was enraged. That thousand acres was not held by the DeLancey Group. Arthur knew that and was outright lying. I could feel the change in the mood. Smelling blood, the vultures were circling.

Then a voice came from the back of the room. I looked up to see a tall and slender woman, dressed in a modest black skirt and white blouse with a strand of small pearls at her neck.

“You speak of the conservation easement as though it were a stupid decision,”

the woman began in a clear tone that demanded the attention of the room. “This, I assure you, is not so. I am a director of the Nature Conservancy in Pennsylvania and well versed in easements. In truth, Mrs. DeLancey was using a powerful tool at her disposal to protect the property from future, unwanted development and damaging land use. As for the value of this piece of land, it cannot be measured simply in terms of dollars. Mayfield holds significant historical and ecological value. Mrs. DeLancey understands that.”

She looked at Arthur. “Even if some do not.”

I covered my smile with my hand. I was intrigued by the woman’s composure in the face of such obvious antagonism. Who is she? I wondered. I had many dealings with the Nature Conservancy in the past years, but this was a private shareholders meeting. How did she gain access?

The woman continued speaking in a clear voice. “I might add, for those of you who have not read the easement on Mayfield, the final thousand acres is not owned by the DeLancey Group. It is the private property of Mrs. DeLancey. And her intention to put all of the land, including the final thousand acres, under a conservation easement is clearly stated. This is not open to debate or discussion.”

Her gaze swept the room. “This is a good thing for all of us. Why?”

Her hand motion included everyone in the room. “Because all of us, as family members, will be able to enjoy the land for hiking, boating, hunting, or just the pleasure of taking family out to a legacy that has been in our family for hundreds of years. To share equally our proud history. Rather than it being the private property of the privileged few.”

The crowd murmured, this time in her favor. Heads tilted in thought. I felt hope stir in my breast as I looked again at Bobby Lee. He responded with an unknowing shrug.

Arthur couldn’t restrain his frustration. “Our family?”

he shouted from the podium. “I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?”

All heads turned to regard the young woman.

She lifted her chin. “I am Norah Davis. Daughter of Desmond Davis. Granddaughter of Covey Wilton Davis and Heyward Rivers. Grandniece of Eliza Rivers Chalmers DeLancey. And”—she smiled—“I am a shareholder.”

The room erupted in mayhem.

I sat back in my chair, my heart beating fast as the ballroom erupted in voices of surprise and utterances of disbelief. Repeated over and over I heard the phrase, The scandal was true.

The young woman was Covey’s granddaughter. My grandniece. My brother’s child’s child.

Arthur stood in stunned silence. He’d lost control of the meeting. It was time to act.

I rose and walked with grace to the podium. By the time I reached the center of the room, the family had noticed and quieted, wondering how I would respond to both Arthur’s proposal and this strange outburst. Arthur hesitated, then cleared his throat and stepped aside. I was accustomed to being in charge and smoothed the papers on the podium in a powerful pause. Then I looked up and smiled.

“Well, this certainly has been a lively meeting.”

I waited until the laughter subsided. “First, thank you all again for your warm birthday wishes. I’m truly grateful. And to Arthur for his expansive, though altogether unnecessary, history of my life. However, he got a few of his facts wrong.”

I slipped on my reading glasses and looked at the papers handed to me by Hana.

“You should all receive a printed report . . .”

I looked up, then smiled seeing Hana handing out the company reports. “Ah, there they are. You’ll see that though it was a difficult year, I am pleased to report that the DeLancey Group did realize a profit again this year.”

I removed my glasses and nodded in acknowledgment of the applause.

“While I appreciate my son’s concern for my health and well-being, I assure you I am in good health, my mind is sharp, my wits keen, and my outlook positive.”

I turned to look at Arthur, who straightened in his chair, his face mottled.

“As for my history”—I set the papers down and kept going—“I have managed Mayfield for over fifty years, longer than any other Rivers family member in our long history. With my husband James, I doubled the acreage to six thousand four hundred acres. I have maintained the historic rice crop as a nod to our history and overseen a strong and steady truck market. I’ve continued my father’s legacy, breeding Marsh Tacky horses and increasing the number of that rare South Carolina breed. I’ve been a good steward of the land, both in farming and managing hunt clubs. I oversee the running of two large houses, each fully staffed. And”—my steely gaze swept the room—“I have served as chief executive officer of the DeLancey Group since James’s death thirty-two years ago, expanding its mission and growth substantially in that time. Currently, I have two thousand and seven people in my employment.”

I waited for the applause to stop.

“You shouldn’t be surprised to learn that I have already thought ahead to the future and taken my retirement under advisement. Retirement from my company. Of which I own fifty-nine percent of the stock.”

I paused for effect.

“We will not waste our time today to vote on any mandatory retirement. Instead, I am announcing that I, Eliza Rivers Chalmers DeLancey, being of sound mind and body, will retire at the year’s end. To secure the company, I have initiated a revised shareholders agreement that offers all the shareholders of the corporation a vote in the election of the board of directors, who in turn will select from themselves a chairman of the board. A term that will last no longer than three years.”

I looked at my son and drove the dagger. “The position of chairman of the DeLancey Group will not be inherited.”

Astonished mumblings erupted in the room.

“I leave it to Bobby Lee to come to the podium and explain the details. Thank you. That is all.”

Without another word, I walked with dignity from the podium and strode the center aisle between the rows of chairs. When I neared the last row, I slowed and searched for my grandniece among the family members, all sitting with their mouths agape.

Norah stood and met my gaze.

Up close, I saw the woman’s large eyes were an unusual hazel color and rimmed dark brown. They were Covey’s eyes. My heart fluttered and I put my hand to my chest, feeling my breath come short. I discreetly wagged my fingers, indicating she should follow.

Norah nodded, bent to grab her purse, and slid out of the room behind me.

Hana was waiting outside the massive wooden doors, pacing nervously. “Are you all right, Miss Eliza?”

I kept walking toward the elevator. “Perfectly fine.”

The elevator doors opened and the three of us entered. When they closed again, Hana spoke. “The doctors were firm you are not to get overexcited.”

“Those idiot doctors, what do they know? For the past three months I’ve stayed in the city, against my will, and subjected myself to every test known to man. Only to be told to not get overexcited.”

Hana followed closely, keeping her voice low. “You had a heart attack.”

“Do not use those words,”

I whispered sharply, glancing at Norah. “It was not a heart attack. If Arthur were to get hold of that idea . . .”

I waved my hand in dismissal. “The doctors said it was a warning. A mild hiccup. Nothing a lean diet and a quiet life can’t fix. I intend to slow down.”

“You’ve been saying that for years,”

Hana said flatly. She met my eyes. “You never do.”

I laughed at the truth of that. I had worked tirelessly for decades, transforming my husband’s sleepy company into the conglomerate it was today. I did not have the personality to sit back and rest when there was work to be done. Truth be told, life never granted me that luxury.

“I will,”

I replied.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Why do you think I’ve had all the meetings with my lawyers these past weeks? Bobby Lee is painting a picture of what retirement might look like. No agenda, no schedule. Free to wander the fields of Mayfield.”

I felt a moment’s exhilaration at the prospect. “Perhaps, Hana, you were correct. Each day is a gift. And I intend to live each one fully. With purpose.”

A smile played at my lips. “But not yet. And certainly not today. Now I must scoot, before the hordes of well-wishers descend on me.”

The doors slid open to the ground floor, and I was pleased to see my car idling out front. I spoke quickly as we walked. “Now, I am making my escape and heading home to Mayfield.”

Hana looked shocked. “B-but you were supposed to leave after the luncheon. They will be disappointed you’re not there.”

“They will survive. We gave them plenty to talk about. Most importantly, I mustn’t meet Arthur. He’ll make a fuss, be sure of that. I have work to do before I talk with him again.”

I turned to Norah. “My dear, have you ever been to Mayfield?”

“No. But I’ve heard stories of it.”

“Would you like to come with me?”

“Me? To Mayfield?”

“Yes dear.”

Norah thought for a moment. “I want to see Mayfield,”

she began cautiously. “But I admit I have reservations. . . .”

“What are they?”

“My grandmother was born and raised there, but she left broken-hearted and never wanted to return. My great-grandfather Wilton was the manager of the plantation for most of his life. But in fact, he was among the first generation of freemen in the family. My African ancestors were enslaved there. So, while going to Mayfield is important for me to learn my family history—”

she took a breath “—it’s also difficult.”

Norah lifted her chin and looked directly into my eyes. “But this is why I came to Charleston. To meet you, and to learn about my family history. So yes. I would like to come with you to Mayfield.”

Not for the first time I felt a wave of shame of my and my family’s part in the Wilton family history. “I’m so very glad you will, my dear.”

“Grandma Eliza!”

A voice rang from the house.

Looking over my shoulder I saw Savannah rushing toward us, clutching her purse, her red hair flying. Her blue eyes shone brightly.

“I’m coming with you.”

“You’re what?”

I asked, stunned.

“I’m going to Mayfield. That’s where you’re going, right?”

She grinned. “Escaping.”

I let out a short laugh. Clever girl. “And if I were?”

“I want to come with you. Like you asked. I don’t care what my daddy said. Please?”

A thousand questions formed in my mind, but time was of the essence. We had to leave before people came out.

“Yes, all right. Hop in the car. Hurry now!”

I slid into the sedan after the girls, fastened my seat belt, then took a deep breath as the big car drove out of the driveway onto East Bay Street. We’d escaped. Arthur would be furious. I chuckled. That was a bonus. I was returning to Mayfield.

I turned to eye the two young women sitting behind me in the backseat. My granddaughter and my grandniece. Two branches of the Rivers family.

“My darling girls. I have so many stories—a lifetime of them—to share with you.”