Blue Like Elvis

by Diane Moody

  “This is Shelby Colter.”

  “Shelby, it’s Tucker. I’m in the Madison café. Do you have time for a break?”

  I felt a wave of mild panic, not sure I wanted to go. I appreciated him wanting to look out for the new girl, but I really didn’t want to make a habit of getting together like this. Then I remembered Jimmy’s call.

  “Oh, okay. Sure.”

  “I just had a few minutes and thought I’d check and see how you were doing with the new job.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. But I’m glad you called. I had a call from Jimmy last night, so I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Great! See you shortly.”

  Self-talk can be good and it can be harmful. I seemed to be doing a lot of it lately. Naturally, I reminded myself this was all about Jimmy. I also reminded myself Tucker was by now officially engaged. I further reflected on the knowledge that the girls in my office never missed a thing. Any one of them could spot me having coffee with Tucker, and I’d spend the rest of the day convincing them all over again that we were just friends. My conversation with myself was still going strong as I walked into the Madison café and spotted Tucker at a table near the back.

  “You said Jimmy called?” he asked a few minutes later as I sat down with my coffee.

  “Yes, and he’s coming home! He was leaving Guam last night when he called.”

  “I thought you said he was in the Philippines.”

  “Yeah, I did. I had no idea he was in Guam. But it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad he’s finally coming home.”

  Tucker reached over and squeezed my hand. “Shelby, that’s great! You must be so relieved!”

  “I am. I just can’t believe it. And he’s catching a flight to the base in Millington. I guess that’s not far from here?”

  “Not at all—it’s just up the road. What a relief to get him back in the states, huh? When will he come in?”

  I stirred the cream in my coffee. “I’m not sure. He had no idea. I get the impression they catch a flight here, a flight there, just trying to make it home.”

  “Well, let me know when he’s due in. I’d love to see him.”

  I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Actually, I was wondering if you could help me. I’m thinking of throwing a welcome home party for him and—”

  “Count me in! How can I help?”

  “Really? Well, thanks. I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know, but I was wondering if you could get in touch with some of the other guys you all used to hang out with. Are any of them still here in Memphis?”

  He yawned then scratched the day’s growth on his chin. I figured he must have been on a long shift. “Let’s see. I know Pat Sulley is still in town. Blake Fenton’s around somewhere. Oh, and Chris Hawley’s back, coaching football over at Briarcrest. Andrew Mitchell lives in Jackson, but he’d drive over if he knew Jimmy was coming in. Then there’s Lance and—”

  “Okay, I’ll let you work on that. I don’t remember any of those guys.”

  “You don’t?” He actually looked shocked.

  “No, none of them. You might find this hard to believe, but I tried to avoid you and Jimmy and your legion of pests.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess I can’t blame you.”

  “If you can get in touch with those guys, then I’ll let you know as soon as I hear when Jimmy will be here.”

  “Shelby! There you are!”

  I looked up just as my roommate approached the table. “Hey, Sandra. I was just taking a break. You know Tucker, right? Tucker Thompson?”

  Refined gentleman that he was, he was on his feet, extending his hand to Sandra.

  “Sure, I’ve seen you around,” she responded. “Sandra Garcia. Nice to make an official acquaintance.” She shot him her biggest smile.

  “The pleasure’s mine. Will you join us?”

  She looked at me, so I waved her to the seat beside me.

  “Thanks,” she said, still smiling and looking back and forth between us.

  “Tucker, Sandra is my new roommate.”

  “Oh? Well, that’s great. So how’s that working out? Any regrets?”

  “Aside from some rather messy finches, it’s fine.”

  “Hey, those are my babies you’re talking about!”

  “Her messy, messy babies,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

  She laughed and chatted like a magpie. It was truly a gift. She was such a natural around men. I should take lessons. Stop the self-talk and learn to relax. Go with the flow. Within five minutes, the two of them were like old friends.

  “Oh.” Suddenly Tucker was on his feet again, his attention focused somewhere behind us. Sandra and I both looked over our shoulders just in time to see Cassie turn on her heel and go out the door she’d apparently just come in.

  He picked up his empty cup and saucer. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me?”

  With that, he was gone. We finished our break, and left a few minutes later. We should have waited longer. Just outside the cafeteria, Cassie was giving Tucker a verbal lashing. We couldn’t help but overhear as we passed—us and everyone else within a two block area.

  “I’m not gonna have it, Tucker. I’m done. First, you refuse to buy me the ring I want, then you avoid me for two days without a single phone call—”

  “Cass, I was on a double shift! Give me a break.”

  “Yet I see you have plenty of time for your hostesses.”

  “Oh, c’mon. I told you Shelby’s an old friend—”

  “Stop! Just stop! It doesn’t matter. It’s over, Tucker. OVER!”

  Sandra and I hurried away, hoping they didn’t see us. As we hustled down the hall, Sandra started to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Are you kidding me? Didn’t you hear?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tucker Thompson’s back on the market!” She did a little Latin two-step before going into the office.

  I paused for a moment. It was true. It sounded like whatever Tucker and Cassie had, it was probably finished. And yet hearing Sandra’s giddy reaction . . .

  What I felt didn’t come close to giddy.

  Chapter 12

  The following week was most unusual. With Mrs. Baker away in Hawaii for Pamela’s wedding, things were much more relaxed in the office. Apparently the old adage is true: when the cat’s away, the mice will indeed play. And some of our mice played a little more than others. I’d noticed a couple of them waltzed in routinely late in the mornings, and others didn’t seem quite as motivated to attend to their patients to the normal extent. The extended lunch breaks were often followed by nail painting, magazine reading, and recipe swapping that kept several of them from getting back to their floors on time.

  Like the hideout up on Five in Mindy’s “office,” our relaxed schedule in Mrs. B’s absence made me nervous at first. That said, by the end of the week I’d learned to do needlepoint and had a whole file of new recipes.

  Of course, not everyone relaxed along with us.

  As the hostess with most seniority, Sarah Beth took over Mrs. Baker’s responsibilities at the front desk. She made it known that she didn’t approve of our laid-back approach. If we made too much noise laughing and cutting up, she would clear her throat—the exact same way Mrs. Baker often did. When the back office started resembling a pig sty, she went on a tirade picking up our things and filling the trash can. If we were slow getting up to our floors in the morning, she would march into the back office and individually hand us our new patient cards, announcing our counts with the precision of a full-fledged accountant.

  Most of the girls just rolled their eyes. I found her quite fascinating. She was always immaculately dressed, uniform pressed, blouse starched, nails polished and perfect, her posture straight, her head held high. I’d learned in earlier conversations she was quite the housekeeper. She loved to brag about her long hours ironing at home. Well, good for her.

  “Yes, Mrs. Baker, we’re fine.”

  We all piped d
own hearing Sarah Beth on the phone with the boss.

  “No news, I suppose,” she continued.

  “Oh Lord, help her keep her mouth shut,” Sandra whispered, crossing her fingers.

  “Well, I think we’ll need to have a meeting when you get back. I’ll leave it at that.”

  Busted.

  “No, nothing for you to worry about. Just have a nice time, and we’ll see you Monday. Bye-bye.”

  We heard her hang up the phone and clear her throat again.

  “Way to go, Sarah Beth,” Leila chided. “Was that really necessary?”

  She walked into our back office, her head stretched higher than normal. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. C’mon, girls. Back to work. Time’s a wasting.”

  Time’s a wasting? Oh, please. I think every pair of eyes in the back office rolled simultaneously at that one.

  “Careful, Sarah Beth. You’ll get a nose bleed up there,” Sandra quipped.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Skip it.”

  She whipped around, hands on hips. “Well, somebody has to be in charge. You all are a disgrace. And don’t think I won’t tell Mrs. Baker when she gets back. You act like a bunch of school girls. Dr. Grieve would be absolutely ashamed of each and every one of you. As am I.”

  With that, she zipped back to the front office. We could hear drawers opening and slamming.

  “Lovely,” Debra groaned.

  “Well, she has a point,” Mindy said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rebecca asked, tossing her copy of Southern Living.

  “It means, we’re all taking advantage of Mrs. Baker’s absence. We’re not kids anymore. We should be responsible enough to do our work whether or not she’s here.”

  I didn’t like the tone flying around the four walls. I’d heard the girls get snippy from time to time, but nothing like this. I decided to play the peacemaker. “Hey, we can all do better. Let’s just try a little harder and try not to get on each others’ nerves.”

  “Oh, so the new girl wants a piece of it,” Sarah Beth added from the front office. “Might be a good idea to stay out of this, Shelby, unless you’re taking sides.”

  “Taking sides? I don’t want to get into this at all,” I said. “But I can’t just sit here and listen to you all pick on each other like this.” I grabbed my stuff and left the office.

  Whoa. I hadn’t seen a cat fight like that since grade school. I headed up to Nine for some peace and quiet. As I rounded the corner on the Madison wing, I heard myself paged. I used the phone at the nurses’ station and called the switchboard. The operator put me through to an outside call.

  “Shelby, it’s Jimmy!”

  “Jimmy! Where are you?”

  “I’m in Hawaii. On a layover. But I should be stateside in a couple of days. I’m hop-scotching. I only get a flight if they’ve got seats available. Then I’ll have a few days of debriefing at Ft. Lewis up in Washington state. I’ll call you once that’s winding down.”

  “Sounds good. I can’t wait to see you!”

  I was thrilled to have a party to think about instead of the mess in the office. I’d have to talk to Sandra and put the wheels in motion for Jimmy’s party. But I wasn’t about to call Tucker. I hadn’t heard from him or seen him since that big scene in the hall. I felt bad for him, but it wasn’t my place to offer a shoulder to cry on. Or whatever.

  I spent the rest of the day revisiting every one of my patients. And yes, that included Mr. Wilcox. Thankfully, he was out having x-rays when I stopped by, and Mrs. Wilcox was nowhere to be seen.

  That evening Sandra and I grumbled about the tension in the hostess office and agreed to try and stay out of it. She said this kind of stuff happened from time to time in the cramped quarters of our office, but she’d never seen it this bad. I’d never worked in an all-female office before. I wondered if there was just too much estrogen in the air. But what did I know?

  One thing I did know. I dreaded Mrs. Baker’s return on Monday.

  Chapter 13

  On Thursday, Rachel called after dinner and tried to talk me into going to the singles bonfire and cookout on Saturday night. I’d used every excuse I could think of. As I hemmed and hawed, Sandra worked on me as well. She was always ready to party. I finally caved, against my better judgment, and agreed to go—for Sandra’s sake.

  The week finally ended, not a day too soon, and Sandra and I spent most of Saturday doing laundry and cleaning the townhouse. It took her forever to clean out the finches’ cage, but oh, what a difference. The place actually smelled nice again.

  That evening, we met the other singles just outside of town at the home of a church member who lived in a sprawling ranch-style home on 15 acres. Rachel and Rich were already there, along with some of the other sponsors and probably 40 singles. The bonfire was already stoked and burning, creating a cozy outdoor atmosphere. The crisp cool spring air felt wonderful. I was glad I’d come.

  From the moment we stepped out of Sandra’s car, she was smothered by a couple of rather unusual guys. I’d not seen them at church before. One was a little heavy with a rat’s nest of dark hair on his head and long sideburns. His friend was a string bean, at least 6’4” and not an ounce of fat on him. He was more hair-challenged, working a wicked comb-over for someone his age.

  I clung to Rachel’s side, glad to avoid their attention. “What’s up with those two?” I asked quietly.

  She placed a basket of hot dog buns on the large picnic table, glanced over her shoulder at them, then laughed. “Oh, that’s Burt and Bobby. Rich calls them ‘the Killer Bs.’ They drift in and out of our group. My guess is, they church hop, scoping out other singles groups for dates then come back here when they find slim pickins elsewhere. We haven’t seen them for months. The thing is, they have no social skills whatsoever, but think they’re really suave. We get a kick out of watching them operate . . . but unfortunately, whenever they drift back in, they chase away a lot of our girls. We’ll have to rescue Sandra at some point.”

  “Oh, trust me. She can handle them.” I turned to help Rachel. “Hey, how are you? How’s little Cooper doing?” I patted her tummy beneath her long maternity top. “Wow! He’s kicking! Do you feel that?”

  “Do I ever.” Rachel placed her hand over mine. “Isn’t that funny? He’s been an active boy all day. But I just love it. I keep thinking he’s in there saying ‘Hi Mommmy!’”

  “You and Rich will make the best parents. I’m so happy for you, Rachel.” I hugged her hard, careful not to squish Cooper.

  “We’re excited!” she said, hugging me back. She grabbed a covered tray of hot dogs. “Hey, Shelby, have you talked to Tucker lately?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, I got a call the other night from—”

  “Hey, Rachel, let me help you with those!” Sandra rushed between us. “You guys have GOT to help me!” she whispered urgently. “What is up with those guys?”

  Sure enough, Burt and Bobby closed in on us. “Hi, Rachel. Can we help too?”

  “Absolutely. Here, you guys can start cooking some hot dogs for us. Here are the sticks. Just line a few up on there and let ‘em roast in the fire.”

  “Oh! Cool!”

  “Wait, wait, wait—first go wash your hands. I don’t even want to know where those hands have been. There’s some water in that jug over there. Pour it over your hands.”

  Suddenly they were busily mastering the task at hand, giving Sandra some breathing room. “Thank you,” she mouthed to Rachel.

  “Who’s hungry?” Rick yelled, armed with a tray of condiments and several bags of chips tucked under his arm. “Let’s eat!”

  Sandra and I found a couple of Adirondack chairs at a safe distance from the fire. We’d just settled in to enjoy our hot dogs when Bobby and Burt launched a secondary attack.

  “Hey, beautiful ladies,” Burt said, taking a seat in a lawn chair to my right. “May we join you?”

  “Burt, it’s o
ur lucky day,” Bobby said, sitting next to Sandra. “The two prettiest babes at the party and they’re all ours.”

  I’d just taken a sip of Tab. I tried really hard not to spray it out my nose at his proclamation. This could be a painfully long evening . . . after which I would kill Rachel. She’d promised me this group didn’t have any annoying guys. I guess their recent absence made them slip her mind.

  “So what’s this about your boyfriend?” Bobby asked, scooting his chair closer to Sandra’s.

  “Oh, yes,” Sandra answered, giving me a look. “My Pedro. The love of my life.”

  This time the Tab flew. I wiped my face and tried to wipe my nose.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Burt asked, handing me his napkin.

  I ignored him, feigning concentration on my Tab-sprayed jeans.

  Bobby pushed harder. “If he’s the love of your life, how come he’s not here tonight?”

  “Because he’s back in Puerto Rico,” Sandra said. I noticed her accent was stronger than usual. “He owns a vineyard. VERY wealthy. Very busy. Busy, busy, busy. Works day and night.”

  “But if he’s there and you’re here, how come you can’t date?”

  “Oh, I could never cheat on Pedro! I wouldn’t want to . . . ruffle his feathers, you know.”

  This time a piece of hot dog wedged in my throat. I coughed and coughed as Burt patted my back to help. It flew out of my mouth and into the fire.

  “You’re weird, you know that?” he said in total sincerity.

  I just nodded, unable to make eye contact for fear I’d lose what was left of my composure.

  Sandra’s eyes were huge. Yes, this was going to be a very long night.

  An hour later as we finished singing some goofy songs and tried to get the stickiness off our fingers after indulging in S’mores, a car pulled up. To be honest, I was ready to call it a night. But Sandra had finally convinced the Killer Bs she wasn’t interested, and she was having a blast hanging out with everyone else. Just then, Trevor Knight stepped out of the Jeep Cherokee.