Chapter 13
Once they gathered in the dining room, Sophie explained her new and hopefully improved version of a séance. It was quite a procedure, and she wanted to make sure the girls knew what they were getting into before they started. This new means of channeling required the participants to . . . participate, by dressing the part. It was sort of like an off-Broadway play.
“The book says that by following the required steps, we have a much better chance to attract a specific person. In any case, we won’t have to rely on that damn water glass to see who is actually coming through when we can get straight down to business. I mean, shoot, do you really think someone wants to come from the other side just to tell us who they are? I’m sure they have more important things to do. So if any of you have any reservations, let’s hold them back for now and give this a try.”
“Sounds good to me. I want to say something like this was on TV. Except for the fact that the person performing it was a fraud, I think we might have a better chance of calling someone in particular. I think it’ll be fun,” Toots said.
Mavis, who normally appeared excited and more than willing to participate in the séances, seemed unusually frightened.
“Are you okay with this, Mavis? I’ve gone through a lot of preparation, and setting this up is very much an ordeal. If you’re uncomfortable, let me know now,” Sophie instructed.
“I’m fine, really. What exactly do we have to do different this time around?” Mavis asked, her voice exuding false cheer.
“First of all, we must show respect to the ones whom we want to channel. Now, I know I’m not supposed to know about this, but I do, and let’s leave it at that. In the book it says we should wear whatever we would normally wear when attending a funeral.”
Sophie let that bit of information hang in the air. She was looking directly at Mavis as she said this. Mavis’s eyes widened, and she looked from left to right. “What are you referring to?”
“All those dark clothes you have? I think if we all were to wear those mourning colors you’re so fond of and have so many of, well, let’s just say this. Dressing appropriately will show the person we are attempting to contact that we are truly in mourning over losing them.”
“You want to wear my clothes?” Mavis asked.
“I want all of us to wear those dark, depressing outfits. Just out of respect for the dead,” Sophie explained succinctly.
Flustered, Mavis wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I’m not sure about this. Why can’t we each wear our own clothes?”
“Look, Mavis, it’s not like we are going to be dripping hot candle wax on them. We just need them for a few hours. Give us a break. We need the freaking dresses, and you are the dressmaker, so why don’t you trot your little ass upstairs and see what you have? I know that in the last year you’ve been several sizes. Surely you have something that will fit each of us.”
“Sophie, I can’t believe you! You actually expect us to dress like we’re going to a funeral? And even worse, you want us to wear Mavis’s clothes?” Toots stated in total amazement.
“It’s like I said in the beginning, this is different. Either you’re in or you’re not. Your call. I’m not going to force anyone to do something she’s not comfortable with. I just think if we follow the rules in the book exactly as they are stated, who knows? Maybe we can contact Elvis. Or better yet, Michael Jackson. They’re still not sure how he died. Maybe his ghost, spirit, or whatever you want to call it, can clarify a few things. So, Mavis, are you willing to lend us some outfits?”
“Okay. But if anything happens to them, I’m going to hold you down and pour hot candle wax on your head. Then I’m going to yank out all that beautiful dark hair you’re so proud of. That will ruin any chance you have of finding a new husband. Get the picture?”
This tirade was so unlike Mavis that the others could not prevent themselves from bursting out laughing. Again, it seemed that with every pound Mavis had lost, she had gained ten pounds of intestinal fortitude.
“Mavis, dear, you’re beginning to sound just like the rest of us,” Toots chided.
“Just for the record, I am not in the market for a new husband,” Sophie insisted. “No way, José.”
Mavis stood up, shifted her shoulders back, and lifted her chin a notch. “I’m going upstairs to sort out the clothes. Is there anything else?”
“We’ll meet you in your room in five minutes,” Sophie said.
Once Mavis had gone upstairs, the others looked at one another in astonishment.
“Who woulda thunk it?” Sophie said. “The mouse has turned into a lion.”
Ida, Toots, Bernice, and Sophie retreated upstairs to don their mourning attire. As they walked down the hall to leave what they had on in their bedrooms, each felt a bit of trepidation, not knowing what to expect as they were all entering uncharted territory. Even though they’d made contact before this, they had never called forth a specific person.
Five minutes later, in Mavis’s bedroom, they acted like giddy schoolgirls at a slumber party as they giggled and put on the dark gray dresses. Though jovial on the outside, Sophie, being extremely intuitive, could feel the fear emanating from her dearest friends like water from a spigot.
To lighten up the mood, she said, “You know, girls, if we’re able to do this, it could open up a whole new business opportunity for us. Just think how many women there are out there who would like one last chance to tell their late husbands what pieces of crap they were. I think we might be onto something here.”
“That would be the perfect job for you, Sophie, since you never have a kind word to say about anyone. Bad-mouthing dead men, seems like that’s right up your alley,” Ida observed.
“Better than what you would do to them,” Sophie said.
“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Ida snarled.
“Stop it, you two! Arguing over dead men? Give us all a break. Quit sniping at each other. Sophie, let’s go downstairs and prepare for tonight’s séance. And not another word about anyone!” Toots commanded.
“You’re no fun,” Sophie said as she made her way down the hall. “You realize we haven’t had a cigarette in the last half hour?”
“I’ve been chewing your nicotine gum. Now that you mention it, let’s go have a smoke before we get started. It could be our last,” Toots said dryly.
The two women grabbed their packs of cigarettes from the kitchen table, went outside, and sat down on the steps, where they each lit up. After two cigarettes apiece, they went inside, where Bernice, Mavis, and Ida looked like matching pigeons in the slate gray outfits.
Toots had a brief thought. If Abby or Chris saw them now, they would have them committed for sure. Five old women dressed like doves as they prepared to speak to the dead. But, the bottom line was this: They were having the time of their lives. And for now, that was enough.
Sophie retrieved the candles and wineglasses from the hutch in the kitchen. Holding her book in one hand, she read the instructions on how to properly place the glasses on the table. She followed the instructions to the letter.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ida asked.
“Put the tablecloth on first. Once the glasses are rimmed with salt, you know, kind of like a margarita, we’ll place them on the corners of the table.” Sophie poured table salt on top of a dinner plate. “Supposedly, this salt is to ward off any evil spirits we don’t want to come through.”
Once the table was properly set, the candles lit, the salted wineglasses placed in their proper position, Sophie, Toots, Mavis, and Ida proceeded to take their places around the table, each one of them sitting at a corner representing a cardinal point of the compass. Bernice sat between Toots and Sophie.
Sophie opened her book and began to read out loud. “Spirits of the dead, hear us in our hour of mourning. We’re looking for the spirit of Walter Manchester. Bastard and drunk that he was. Walter, if you are here, please give us a sign of your presence. We are in grief over your loss.” Soph
ie rolled her eyes. “We wish you to come through tonight. North, south, east, or west. Walter, wherever you may be, find your way toward us and grace us with your presence.”
The room remained silent. Other than the ticking of a grandfather clock, nothing could be heard.
They remained in total silence, waiting for Walter to make his presence known. After several minutes, when nothing happened, Ida spoke up. “What do we do now?”
“The book says we should offer something meaningful, something this spirit might have cherished in life.”
“Well, you gave him your virginity, so that’s out of the question. Not that it was ever anything of value,” Toots added with a smile.
In a harsh whisper, Sophie said, “You think so?”
“I know so,” Toots remarked.
“If this is going to be nothing more than a pissing contest, I have better things to do,” Bernice groused.
The dining room radiated a warm golden color from the flames of the many candles. If one were inclined to believe in such things, this was the perfect setting to receive spirits, ghosts, or an entity of any kind.
“Let’s join hands. We’ll give it a few more minutes and try to channel our energy. The book says this makes us a stronger unit.”
“Oh, Lordy, Lordy. I don’t believe we’re doing this,” Toots said.
Sophie kicked her beneath the table. “Hush!”
Suddenly, the room chilled. It was so cold that each of the women shivered.
“Did you feel that? I think something is happening.” Sophie scanned the room.
“I felt it. It was a cold breeze, and I heard it, too. It was the air conditioner kicking on. I honestly doubt we’ve accomplished anything tonight. I suggest we end this foolishness and try it the way we did before. At least we made contact then,” Toots suggested.
“I agree with Toots. Let’s just start over tomorrow night. This doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe the spirits don’t like this house,” Ida suggested.
“You may be right, but let’s not leave just yet. If that skunk of a husband of mine doesn’t want to make his presence known, I say we make him an offer he can’t refuse. Toots, do you remember the wedding gift you gave me when Walter and I married?”
“No, not really,” Toots replied.
“Well, I do. One of the gifts was a bottle of wine. You told me it came from Christie’s, you know, the auction house in New York City?”
“Surely you’re not talking about that bottle of Château Mouton Rothschild Jeroboam? Please, don’t tell me Walter got his hands on that.”
“No, he didn’t. I’ve carried it with me all these years. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. You don’t know how hard it is to hide alcohol when you’re living with a drunk. I knew it was a very expensive bottle of wine, something Walter would have given his eyeteeth for. He might’ve been a drunk, but a cheap one he wasn’t. He only drank the best. I told him one of the girls at the office purchased it at Woolworth’s, and the dumb ass was too snookered most of the time to realize that Woolworth’s didn’t even sell wine.”
“If Walter is going to make his presence known, he better do it real quick. I’m ready to call it a day,” Ida said.
“Let’s give it one more serious try, and if nothing happens, we’ll call it a night,” Sophie suggested.
Suddenly a foul scent blew gently throughout the room, followed by a loud banging noise that startled them.
“What was that?” Mavis said, her voice filled with fright.
“I hate to say it, but I think it’s the shutter. It’s banging rapidly, and it sure as hell isn’t from the wind,” Toots said, all traces of humor gone. “There isn’t the slightest breeze out tonight.”
Sophie looked from left to right. “Walter? If that was you, let us see or hear a sign of your presence. A sign that we cannot mistake for anything or anyone else. If you’re here, make yourself known. Now!”
Just as the words left Sophie’s mouth, she felt a force near her, then a silence that was deafening. Out of nowhere, all five glasses suddenly toppled over and started rolling on the table. Then, as fast as they started, they stopped.
“Bernice, go in the kitchen and bring back a corkscrew and an extra wineglass. We’re going to open this now,” Sophie said calmly.
“Sophie Manchester, you realize that bottle of wine is worth more than one hundred thousand dollars?” Toots said in utter amazement. “I hope . . . Never mind, it was a gift. You can do with it as you please.”
Bernice raced back into the dining room, corkscrew in one hand, a wineglass in the other. Sophie took the opener and proceeded to open the bottle of sixty-year-old wine. She reseated all five wineglasses, wiped the salt off the rims, then filled them with the exquisite wine.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Sophie said.
Each of the five women held her wineglass high in the air.
“To my late husband, Walter. He didn’t come through tonight, so I must assume he’s rotting in hell as we speak. I don’t think there is anything I would enjoy toasting more than his ass roasting on hot coals for eternity.”
All five clinked their glasses together. “To Walter.”
After their first sip, they placed the glasses in front of them. A wine so old, so expensive, must be sipped. While they waited for the wine to warm their insides and tickle their tongues, a foul gush of air blasted through the room, once again causing the glasses of wine to tip over, emptying every last drop on the clothes Mavis had loaned them.
“My dresses! What just happened?” Mavis cried out.
Toots, Ida, Bernice, and Sophie looked down at their borrowed attire. The wine had left deep, blood-colored stains.
“Walter, you asshole! No one else but you would pull a stunt like this. I wouldn’t have thought you, of all people, would ever let one drop go to waste. You sicken me! You’re a prick in death just like you were in life,” Sophie yelled, her voice laced with anger.
Wind blew across the room, extinguishing the candles and leaving the room in total darkness.
Sophie looked down at her ruined dress. “These clothes look like maxi pads. I think I’ve proven that I can summon any specific person at will. We’re going to have to do this more often. We have the power to solve some of life’s greatest mysteries.”
Chapter 14
“And that’s my big secret,” Mavis explained. Over breakfast, Mavis revealed what she had been up to for the past several months. She wanted to help lay those to rest who couldn’t afford it, but in a dignified manner. When she told the story about Pearl Mae Atkins, the women all cried like babies. Even Sophie’s eyes misted over.
“Why didn’t you just ask me for the money?” Toots asked. “I would’ve helped you.”
Mavis blotted at her eyes with a tissue. “I know you would, and I appreciate your offer. But this was something I had to do on my own. I checked my Web site this morning. I have thirty-seven more orders on top of the twenty-three from yesterday. After last night’s . . . event, I’m five short. What is even worse, I’ve run out of material.”
“So can’t you just order another bolt of it? I’m pretty handy with a sewing machine, and so is Toots. If these patterns are as easy as you say they are, between the three of us we should be able to fill your orders ASAP,” Ida said.
Mavis shook her head. “That’s the problem. Not any old material will do. Because I want my customers to wear these clothes more than once, I invested in the best fabric I could afford. Not to be boastful or anything, but Oscar de la Renta sometimes uses the same supplier.”
“That’s pretty darn impressive,” Toots said. “So what are your long-term plans? Do you want to stay Internet only, or have you thought of opening stores?”
“Right now the Internet is my best option. In the future, I wouldn’t rule out a small catalog or something of that nature. I want to stay unique, not something that can be found at Sears or JCPenney. Yesterday, when I was visiting Catherine, she offered to sell my designs in
her shop, but I told her no. She agrees with me. Good Mourning is a one-of-a-kind idea.”
“Yeah, until someone else picks up on the idea,” Sophie added. “Then you’ll find your designs in Wal-Mart, Target, and, if you’re really lucky, Walgreens.”
Bernice piped up. “Hey, there is nothing wrong with buying your clothes at Walgreens. See these shoes I’m wearing?” Bernice lifted her foot up in the air. She wore a pair of knockoff Crocs in hot pink. “I paid four ninety-nine for these perfectly good shoes.”
“It’s perfectly acceptable to buy a pair of knock-around shoes at Walgreens. I don’t think the average grief-stricken consumer looks for a mourning outfit in a drugstore, that’s all,” Ida informed them.
“I found a supplier yesterday in North Charleston. It’s a warehouse on Meeting Street Road. They’re called Jay C. King’s. From what I could gather, that area is similar to the fashion district in New York City,” Mavis explained.
“Then what’s the problem? We go there, pick up however much fabric, come back here, and sew our asses off. And yes, I do know how to sew,” Sophie informed them.
“I wish it were that easy. I learned from Catherine that there is no way they would sell to me because I only need a few bolts of fabric. This warehouse only sells orders in bulk, and even if they did sell small orders, you have to have an account with them to even think about buying from them. They’re top of the line,” Mavis said.
“You’re positive they wouldn’t sell anything to you?” Toots asked.
“Absolutely. Catherine told me they actually have guards, and a security system to rival that of Fort Knox.”
Toots appeared deep in thought. “What if we didn’t actually buy the material from them? What’s stopping us from going into the place at night and taking it? I honestly doubt they would miss a few bolts of fabric.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she realized how insane, how totally off the wall she sounded.
“You’ve got to be kidding. You’re talking about stealing? Catherine said they have a steel door with a lock that not even a bulldozer could push. The lock itself, according to Catherine, is six inches of hardened steel. I don’t think our fragile hands have the ability to bend that kind of steel even if we did eat our spinach,” Mavis said laughingly.
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