Never Sit Down in a Hoopskirt and Other Things I Learned in Southern Belle Hell

by Crickett Rumley

  “Okay.” He led me out to the small verandah right outside the ladies’ parlor and took a seat in a rocking chair, motioning for me to sit as well. I shook my head. “Sorry, I haven’t mastered the art of sitting in the four circles of hell, I mean, hoops, yet.”

  “Oh sure.” He jumped back up. He plunged his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders high around his ears. And then we just stood there.

  And stood there.

  And stood there.

  Finally, we both broke the silence: “You see—”

  “What did you—”

  “You first,” he said.

  “Me? You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

  “Right. Okay, I admit it. I did drive by your house that night. And not because it’s the shortcut to Dauphin. I’ve driven by a thousand times since I heard you got back to town.”

  Ohhhhhhhh. Intriguing. “Well, why didn’t you…?”

  “I wanted to stop in. I just didn’t know what to say.”

  “And probably your girlfriend wouldn’t like it?”

  His brow furrowed. “My girlfriend?”

  “Posey or Mosey or whatever her name is. The one you called ‘babe.’”

  Looking embarrassed, he plunged his hands deeper into his pockets. “Yeah, that. She’s just a friend. I know I kissed her but… it didn’t mean anything. I was, well, nervous.”

  Well, well, well, this was shaping up to be interesting indeed.

  “The thing is, Jane, I thought if you really cared about me, you would have made an effort to get in touch with me.”

  Okay, it was time to clear the air. “But, Luke, I couldn’t! I was in so much trouble back then! My father…”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” He knew?

  “Ashley made a big effort to track me down and tell me.”

  “Ashley? Darn it! Remind me to kick her butt later.”

  “Nope, you can’t!” I heard Ashley call through the window of the ladies’ parlor. “I did you a favor!”

  I poked my head through the window and parted the curtains to find Ashley, Mallory, Caroline, and Zara standing right there. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” sang Mallory.

  “This is sooooo romantic!” cooed Caroline.

  “Do you think he’s going to apologize?” whispered Zara.

  “Leave me alone! Take your sneakifying little ears and go away!” I dropped the curtains and turned back to Luke. Inside, there was a kerfuffle of ruffles and ribbons as the girls maneuvered themselves to the other side of the parlor. I sighed. “Sorry, Luke. What were you saying?”

  “I don’t know. That ever since I heard you were back in town, I’ve been a little out of my mind.”

  A tiny smile started to explore the corners of my mouth. “Out of your mind how, exactly?”

  “I tried to ignore it, tried to write you off, to convince myself that you weren’t worth it. But I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Why do you think I agreed to be Zara’s dandy?”

  “Because Lancer and Jules and James were doing it?”

  “No. Because of you.”

  Because of me. Because of me! Well, well. I was so surprised, I began exhibiting manners unbecoming a Magnolia Maid. Gaping being the main one.

  “I never forgot you, Jane. Every girl I’ve ever been out with, I’ve compared to you. I know we were only twelve, I know it’s been five years since we’ve seen each other, but still. I’ve been out with a dozen girls since then, and I can’t help it. I can’t get you out of my mind.”

  From the ladies’ parlor came a long, drawn-out “awwwwwwww.” Obviously the girls were still eavesdropping but my tongue was too tied to do anything about it.

  “Well?” he finally said. “I just poured my heart out to you here, Jane. Want to get back to me?”

  I handed him my parasol. “Hold this.” I turned my back to him and moved aside the extra-wide strap that Miss Dinah Mae had sewn into my bodice. “See that?”

  “Wow. Your grandmother let you get a tattoo?”

  “Not really. See what it’s of?”

  “Yeah, Cart…” His voice trailed off. “Cartman? You got a tattoo of Cartman? Why?” I just gave him a look. “Because of me? You got a tattoo of Cartman because of me?”

  I really couldn’t look at him now. “I never forgot you, either, Luke. Don’t think my heart wasn’t broken, too. It was. You were my best friend.”

  I swear I heard another “awwwwwwww” from inside but I was beyond caring at this point. This was just between him and me.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” I wished I could stop feeling so incredibly awkward and nervous. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. Go on a date?” Luke suggested.

  “A date? I can do that.”

  “Next Saturday?”

  “I think I’m available.”

  He nodded. “Okay. We’re going on a date. Pick you up at seven.” Luke lifted my lace-clad hand and bowed over it. “Until then, my lady.” A smile broke out on his face and swam its way over to mine. He headed for the grand staircase that led to the Great Boysenthorp Lawn.

  “Hey, wait!” I called after him. “You know where I live?”

  He tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Yeah. I drive by there all the time!”

  I couldn’t help beaming as I made my way back to the ladies’ parlor and was immediately swarmed by the girls.

  “That…”

  “… was the…”

  “… most romantic…”

  “… thing…”

  “Ever!”

  “I knew Luke Churchville would come through!” screamed Mallory. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” The girls jumped up and down. Well, as much as you can jump up and down in a fifty-pound dress.

  “Y’all, please!” I beseeched. “Calm down! It’s just one date.” But if that was the case, then why was my heart beating a billion times a second?

  “Just one date?” Ashley scoffed.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s just see how it goes.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious where it’s going to go.”

  I stifled a laugh. Then my phone vibrated in my pantaloons. I pulled it out and read a text. “Brandi Lyn’s here, y’all, we’ve got to move!”

  Zara and I scurried through the fussy public rooms of Boysenthorp Manor—well, as fast as two girls who have to collapse their hoopskirts in order to get through door frames can scurry—searching for Mizz Upton. We found her and Walter Murray Hill in the music room dispensing last-minute orders to the string quartet that would be playing background music during our appearance.

  “Mizz Upton! Mizz Upton!” I called.

  “Maids!” She hurried over to me and Zara. “What are you doing out here? No one’s supposed to see you until you go onstage!” She dragged us away from the musicians to a side room where Zara and I held her hostage with a series of really dumb questions about the details of the proceedings. She was so annoyed—“Haven’t we gone over this a dozen times?”—that she didn’t even notice a fully made-up Brandi Lyn dash across the verandah and into the ladies’ parlor, Teddy Mac Trenton and Lacey Wilkes Hawkes trailing behind with garment bags.

  A few minutes later, Mizz Upton was done with our ridiculousness. “If you don’t know it now, I can’t help you. It’s almost showtime.” She bustled into the ladies’ parlor. “Maids, it’s…” Her voice trailed off.

  Standing before her was Brandi Lyn, completely bedecked in full Magnolia Maid regalia. “What the…?” the Bobbed Monster started then stopped. She was clearly at a loss for words.

  Frankly, so was I.

  Because the answer to the question “what would Cecilia do?” turned out to be simple: she would have done anything within her power to fix the situation, even if it meant giving someone the dress off her very own dress stand. The dress that had allowed Brandi Lyn back into the fold, that Lacey Wilkes Hawkes had bribed h
er favorite dry cleaner to touch up to perfection and, stat!, that Miss Dinah Mae had been nipping and tucking up to the very last second, wasn’t brand-new. It was the dress my grandmother had pulled out of the attic, the dress I had tried on.

  Cecilia’s dress.

  So in my mind, it wasn’t Brandi Lyn who appeared before my eyes. It was my mother. For a moment, it was Cecilia, at seventeen, curtsying, twirling, laughing, showing off her ribbons and ruffles. It was Cecilia who rushed over and threw her arms around me. It was Cecilia who squeezed me tight and hugged me as if her life depended on it.

  Mizz Upton stood straight as a board. “Would. Someone. Please. Explain. To me. What. Is going on?” she said through clenched teeth.

  We all exchanged glances. “Caroline?” I prompted.

  Caroline stepped forward. Paused. A pause so long that it made me fear she wouldn’t be able to say what she had said she wanted to say. She fished a piece of paper out of her bodice. Licked her lips. Breathed. “‘Mother,’” she said, “‘I know that this is going to disappoint you, and for that I am very, very sorry.’”

  Mizz Upton stared at her daughter. “What are you doing?”

  Caroline faltered.

  “Come on, Caroline, you can do it,” said Ashley.

  Caroline started to read. “‘Dear Mother, I don’t want to be a Magnolia Maid. I respect the organization, and your tireless work for it, but I never wanted to try out, and I don’t think, no, I’m certain that I never want to wear this dress. I feel very uncomfortable in the public eye and resent your attempts to thrust me into it.’” She gestured to Brandi Lyn. “‘Thanks to the generosity of the Fontaine Ventouras and Hawkes families, and all my sister Maids, Brandi Lyn Corey is now able to take her rightfully earned place on the Court. I speak for all of the girls here…’”

  We all nodded agreement.

  “‘… when I say that we all would like for you to respect that she is the fifth Maid as the judges initially decreed. I will agree to serve as alternate. But it is my sincere hope that I never have to fulfill those duties. Thank you, and I’m sorry.’”

  As Caroline finished reading the letter, dear Lord (sorry, Brandi Lyn!), the silence was deafening. Caroline folded up the paper and placed it back in her bodice. She looked relaxed for the first time since I had known her, especially when we all gathered behind her and presented a united front.

  Mizz Upton looked like she was about to faint. She yelled toward the verandah. “Walter?! Please get in here? Walter!”

  Mr. Walter came running in, and Mizz Upton yammered up a storm about how she wasn’t sure that Brandi Lyn could come back after resigning. And was she allowed to wear a dress from a bygone Maid? It wasn’t in the bylaws, she’d have to check with the Jaycees, Maids were required to commission their own dresses, etc. But old Walter Murray Hill took one look at the perfection that was Brandi Lyn in that dress, saw Caroline hanging back, looking relieved, and he clapped Mizz Upton on the back and declared, “Why, Martha Ellen! The dress has tradition, okay. Just like the Magnolia Maids! And as long as Miss Caroline is fine with it—”

  Caroline nodded emphatically from the corner.

  “—then we are good to go! Let’s do this!” he announced. That Mr. Walter. What a good man. “T-minus ten minutes and counting,” he said.

  So… ten minutes to go and I decided to peak outside at our audience. It looked like a billion people were crowded on the Great Lawn of Boysenthorp Gardens. Okay, slight exaggeration. More like one thousand. But that was a lot, considering how small B’ville usually felt! I scanned the crowd, searching for Cosmo. It was impossible to find anyone, though. Except Grandmother, who, all of a sudden, was standing right in front of me.

  “Jane, sweet pea, can I speak to you for a moment?” she asked.

  I followed her onto the verandah, the very site of my recent victory with Luke. “No problem, but make it quick, I was just looking for…” I trailed off. Oh no. I looked at her and I knew. I just knew. “He’s not coming, is he?”

  She shook her head. “He’s got a big…”

  “… convention in the Bahamas or deal to make in Norway or…” I stopped. I was tired. My sarcasm tank had run out. I felt empty.

  “I’m so sorry,” Grandmother said.

  I shook myself. “It’s okay. It’s better really. Today has been so hectic anyway, you wouldn’t believe all the drama we’ve had, and…” I trailed off as the wave of disappointment washed over me.

  Grandmother produced a handkerchief, lace, of course, from her handbag to dab away a tear that had formed at the corner of my eye.

  I laughed. At least made a pathetic attempt to. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to ruin all this makeup Mizz Upton had us put on.”

  A sad smile tweaked Grandmother’s lips. “He’ll be there for you one day, Jane. I think he’s gone so often because it’s easier for him not to remember. He’s haunted.”

  “But I miss her, too, Grandmama. I loved her, too. Why can’t we miss her and love her together?”

  Grandmother sighed. “Honey, sometimes it doesn’t work that way. There’s no telling how people are going to react to things. Sometimes they push away from each other when they should be circling in.”

  I knew what she meant.

  I shrugged. I wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that one day he would come back to me. That I would be enough. But I wasn’t so sure.

  I looked at Grandmother and felt a surge of love. For her, I would be hopeful. “I guess I just have to accept it, don’t I?”

  Grandmother smiled for real and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “That’s my girl. Now. This is supposed to be one of the most memorable days in a Magnolia Maid’s year. You get back in there and have the time of your life! Okay?”

  It was Grandmother. How could I possibly say no?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When I returned to the ladies’ parlor, Zara could tell something was off.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  I shrugged and whispered, “My dad.” She squeezed my hand in solidarity.

  And Great Day in the Morning, y’all, but you could have knocked me over with the tiniest of feathers if you had even hinted at what transpired next.

  Walter Murray Hill announced that it was time for the final vote for queen. He handed out white slips of paper and instructed us each to write down the name of the Maid we thought should be queen. In the event of another tie, God forbid, he and Mizz Upton would make the final call. After all, we couldn’t make a debut without a queen! I scribbled Brandi Lyn on my white slip and handed it back. I saw Ashley giving Mallory and Caroline the eye and thought, oh great. Ashley’s still twisting arms into voting for her. After everything we’d done together this week. Puh-leez. Zara and Brandi Lyn breezily jotted down their votes. I smiled at them. They smiled back.

  Walter Murray and Mizz Upton huddled together to tally the votes, and to my great delight, Mizz Upton looked greener and greener with every opening of a slip of paper.

  “It’s about time y’all agreed on something,” she muttered. But she was disgusted. I could tell. Why else would her Estée Lauder Maraschino–colored lips be scrunched up like a lemon? I took it as good news—someone from Ashley’s team had finally woken up, smelled the magnolias, and decided to vote for Brandi Lyn.

  Walter Murray Hill, however, maintained an inscrutable expression until the very last slip of paper was opened, and then a grin wider than the Grand Canyon split his face. “Congratulations, Maids, we have a new queen.” He turned to us girls, and I must admit, his excitement was contagious!

  We all gathered around him and joined hands like a bunch of beauty-pageant finalists.

  “It is my supreme pleasure to announce that the young lady who will be our primary ambassadress of the city of Bienville, the leader of her sister Magnolia Maids, the queen of the Magnolia Court… is Miss Ashley Jane Fontaine Ventouras!”

  Miss Ashley Jane Fontaine Ventouras. The name reverberated in my head. Miss Ashley Jane
Fontaine Ventouras. Miss Ashley Jane…

  “Oh my God!” I screeched. “That’s me!”

  There’s a whole chapter in the Magnolia Court Orientation Handbook titled “Manners Befitting a Maid Upon Revelation That She Is Queen of the Court.” It goes something like this, with a few flourishes for dramatic purposes:

  1. DO smile humbly and thank your Magnolia sisters for having faith in you and selecting you as their leader.

  2. DO NOT gasp with shock, widen your eyes in surprise, then berate your sisters for being out of their minds. Magnolia Maids are supposed to be hostesses extraordinaire, and having an inherent ability to repress and ignore any and all elephants in the room is a requirement of gracious Southern living.

  3. DO take your place at the head of the flight formation and prepare to lead your flock out to the clamoring crowd gathered under the oaks of Boysenthorp Gardens.

  4. DO NOT remain frozen solid, actively shoving bile back down your throat as you ponder what part of “I’m the rebel in the group” those Magnolia sisters of yours did not understand.

  Guess who violated number 1, committed number 2, was incapable of performing number 3, and absolutely one hundred percent enacted number 4?

  Me.

  “No, no, no, you didn’t mean me.” My eyes pleaded with Mr. Walter to make it all go away.

  “I sure did, Jane.” He squeezed my arm. “And I think it’s a fine choice for the year we’re getting ready to have. Now. Y’all get in formation and let’s go meet the good people of Bienville, okay!”

  The string quartet launched into some ode to summer, and Mr. Walter headed out the French doors to the Grand Verandah. A moment later, a microphone kicked on and we heard Mr. Walter welcome the crowd and begin his opening speech.

  Meanwhile, I was as frozen as Caroline had been when she heard her name announced as alternate. I felt milliseconds away from pulling a Brandi Lyn and fainting. Seeing my condition, the girls rallied around to prop me up and fan me with the three-hundred-dollar fans Miss Dinah Mae had made for us. I glared at them all. “How could you? What were you all thinking?”

  “You take care of us, Jane,” said Brandi Lyn.