Kiss Them Goodbye

by Stella Cameron

  Hungry Eyes epitomized “quaint.” Bow windows with stained-glass eyes on each small, square pane of glass had been added on either side of the front door. Similar panes in the door, without the eyes but with a row of books top and bottom, gave a “come in” feeling to the place.

  Vivian could see round tables with blue chintz cloths inside the left window. Beyond stacks of books displayed on a wide shelf in the right window, she saw rows of bookshelves reaching far back into the store.

  People sat at the tables. She recognized Dr. Reb Girard, Bill Green and Joe Gable, Jilly’s brother, whose law offices were two doors away from Hungry Eyes.

  “Miz Vivian?”

  Wazoo’s voice couldn’t be mistaken. Vivian turned in time for the new Rosebank employee to catch up. “Hi, Wazoo. What are you doin’ here? I didn’t have a chance to talk with you today. Are you still enjoying working at Rosebank? There’s so much to do, I’m afraid. We need lots more help but—well, I might as well be honest. We don’t have the money to pay for much more help.”

  “I know so, me,” Wazoo said. “You and Miz Charlotte savin’ every penny for makin’ the house nice. I think it beautiful already, me. The place Miz Charlotte give me? Ooh ya ya, that the sweetest room I ever see. But I guess you gotta do more stuff for visitors from big cities. They gonna come y’know. That house am so special. Even if it do need an exorcism.”

  Vivian sighed. “We don’t believe in such things.”

  Today Wazoo wore a black dress that only reached her calves, and hose with her tennis shoes. Nice legs. Her hair was in two explosive and long tails that fell from high up on either side of her head. She watched Vivian intently. “You afraid of what you don’t know. I feel the spirits, me, and they gotta be put to rest. You can’t have horny ghosts flittin’ around ladies’ bedrooms.”

  ”Wazoo.” Laughter would feel good but it would also encourage Wazoo’s outrageous chatter.

  “On the other hand, Miz Vivian, you could cater to ladies who might get a real uplifted feeling out of some truly spiritual experiences.” She grinned. “Might not say no to one or two of those myself. You could advertise earth-moving satisfaction. Mark my words—”

  “Wazoo.” Vivian said the name in the best schoolmarm voice she’d never had a reason to have. “You are irreverent. And don’t forget that when you advertise, you have to deliver. Something tells me we’d be paying back a lot of reservations because of nonsatisfaction.” She coughed, amused by the conversation.

  “You gotta have rules. They guest ladies sleep nude with their ankles and wrists tied to the bedposts. And you got a fan right where it’ll blow hard on them beggin’ buds and tunnels o’ love, Miz Vivian. Play the right kind of music, blindfold the customers, and pay someone to do a little somethin’ with a feather here and there. Drip warmed-up oil real slow. Well, now, you might not even have to pay someone to do that. Could have candidates linin’ up to work for free. Turn that fan on high, mind. Then you can just wait for them repeat customers at the door.”

  Stunned, but entertained, Vivian said, “I’m going to the bookstore. See you later.”

  “Why, I’m goin’ the same place. Miz Ellie’s gettin’ me some new tarot cards. Now there’s a girl who could use a little blowin’ and pluckin’. That ain’t baby fat under her dress. She’s just got one womanly body. And don’t think the men don’t notice. You take a look at where Joe Gable’s eyes are when he’s around her. And I don’t even think she knows.”

  Vivian hadn’t met Joe Gable but he’d been pointed out to her and that was enough for her to notice he was better-looking than the average lawyer.

  Wazoo trotted at her side. “That nice Mr. Legrain, he sure was mad when he find out what happen to you last night.”

  “I didn’t stay up to talk to him about it,” Vivian said. “He’s already got his hands full without my problems.”

  “Sure,” Wazoo said, opening the shop door. “But he sweet on you and he care about that.” She wriggled her nose and her slim eyebrows rose. “I think the sheriff know that man’s feelings, too, and I think he mad about it.”

  “Hush,” Vivian told her, digesting Wazoo’s remarks. “I hope Mama told you how we feel about gossip.”

  Wazoo flapped a hand from a loose wrist.

  “Hi,” Ellie Byron said from behind a glass case filled with pastries and sandwiches. “Vivian, I thought you would never come.” Her oddly distant blue eyes were just as Vivian remembered them. Her short, brown curls shone in the sunlight. She wasn’t quite real.

  Vivian took in a sharp breath and went to the counter, returning greetings as she went. “Good mornin’, almost good afternoon. I overslept. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Because you get back from New Orleans real late. With that Spike Deeevol” (Wazoo’s vowels were dragged out) “the pair of you lookin’ like you wearing other people’s clothes. And you was. Bein’ pushed in Bayou Lafourche, in Spike’s van, couldn’t have done you no good.”

  Mesmerized, Vivian listened to this recital of her personal business and said, “Thank you, Wazoo.”

  “That’s awful,” Reb Girard said and that’s when Vivian noticed Gaston on the floor under the table. “I want you down at Conch Street so I can examine you.”

  Gaston’s bright brown eyes fastened on Boa’s basket. The latter was smart enough to press herself into the bottom.

  “I’m absolutely great,” Vivian said. “It was really nasty at the time but we were so grateful to get out safely we felt better at once.”

  Black-haired, blue-eyed Joe Gable introduced himself and went on to ask, “How come you were down by the Bayou in all that rain last night? Late, too, from what’s been said.”

  Everything said about small towns, or many of them, was true. News and personal details traveled a little too fast.

  “I won’t bore you with the details,” she said, meeting his gaze.

  Slithering across the floor on his belly, like a woolly apricot alligator, Gaston made his way to Vivian’s feet and looked up into her face. He appeared to be smiling. With Boa and her basket held to her chest, Vivian hunkered down and scratched the poodle’s head, heard a low growl and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m Vivian. You’re Gaston. We’re friends. Shake.” She held out a hand. Gaston’s eyebrows wiggled alternately before he sighed and closed his eyes.

  Vivian wasn’t fooled. She’d be watchful of him.

  “Oh, wow.” Why hadn’t she thought of it? “Excuse me. I walked right in here with my dog and didn’t think a thing of it.”

  “What dog?” Bill Green, the real-estate guy, asked. He shared a table with Olympia Hurst.

  “She’s in the bottom of this basket,” Vivian said apologetically. “I’ll have to come back another time—without her.”

  “What’s that?” Bill, crisp and clean-cut in a tie and white shirt with the cuffs rolled back, indicated Gaston. “Doesn’t look like a stuffed animal to me. Around here we figure a clean dog’s as good as a clean person, right, Ellie?”

  “Right. I love dogs. Occasionally Deputy Lori mumbles something about rules when Gaston’s in here but Spike just gives him crumbs and generally acts silly with him. This is part of my home and I like dogs in it.”

  Reb, looking way more pregnant than she had even a week earlier, snapped her fingers at Gaston who ran and jumped onto what knee space Reb had available.

  “I’d like a cup of black coffee,” Vivian said. “No cream or sugar. Make it a mug. May I have pickles and gratons? If you have them?”

  “You certainly may,” Ellie said. Her movements were rapid and she had a way of glancing into the recesses of the shop, or through the front windows, as if she expected to see someone, and not just anyone. Ellie Byron expected a visitor, only Vivian wasn’t sure she expected him or her to be friendly.

  “Coffee for me, too, please,” Wazoo said. “Did you tell everyone about the bonfire, Ellie?”

  “I expect it did expensive damage,” Olympia said but Vivian ignored the comment.
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br />   “We were talking about it when you came in. Bill says we’ve got things to discuss.” Ellie winked at Wazoo.

  “How would all of you know about the bonfire?” Vivian said, then looked at Wazoo.

  “Okay,” she said and shrugged. “I tell ’em. I call and tell ’em. We like to know when we needed around here.”

  “You want to gossip, you mean,” Vivian said.

  She turned from the counter in time to see Joe Gable watching Ellie intently, a worried ruckle between his arched brows.

  She already had enough troubles without courting other people’s problems and her reason for being here would have to be dealt with as soon as she could find a way to speak with Ellie alone.

  Hovering would only draw curiosity, so Vivian took her coffee, pickles and chips to Reb’s table and was immediately asked to sit down. If Vivian weren’t anxious, the interlude would be cozy. Inside the shop Ellie kept the temperature pleasant. Zydeco, played at a low volume, made the perfect background music. Handmade gifts were displayed on blue shelves that matched what could be seen of the table legs beneath the cloths. The chairs and their tied-on seat cushions also matched.

  Vivian bought time by studying every inch of the place. The deep shop housed many more books than she had expected.

  “The bonfire sounds terrifying,” Dr. Reb said. “What would possess them to light it so close to the buildings?”

  Vivian faced the table. “It happened fast. There wasn’t time to be frightened.” She bit the end off a whole pickle and followed it up with a strip of crispy pork cracklings.

  “I heard some stranger pretended he worked there,” Bill said. He took a bite of a boudin sandwich as thick as an encyclopedia and had to chew his way through the sausage before saying, “Man the workmen never saw before told them to put the bonfire where they did.”

  “Just maybe he was the killer,” Olympia said, smiling, her eyes bright with excitement. “The one who killed the lawyer. Did his head really fall off when you opened the car door?”

  Vivian looked at her hands in her lap. “No, that’s not true.”

  “I told ’bout that man, too, Miz Vivian,” Wazoo said. She sat on a high stool at one end of the display case and held her coffee mug in both hands. “Maybe someone see this man and tell the po-lice. Maybe it’s a clue.”

  “Maybe.” Vivian hadn’t the heart to tell Wazoo in front of her friends that she was compromising any clues. Since Wazoo responded slightly better to authority figures, Spike could deal with it later.

  “Great coffee,” Vivian said, wanting to change the subject. “If you started giving patients shots of this, Reb, you’d have a booming practice.”

  “I’ve got a booming practice,” Reb said, and leaned across the table to say in a low voice, “and it would be a lucrative practice if anyone paid me in something other than eggs, chickens or fish.”

  Vivian smiled. She closed her eyes and sniffed the fragrant steam rising from her coffee before drinking some more.

  “I can’t take credit for the coffee,” Ellie said. “I get it in pots from Jilly, and the pastries also come from her.”

  Vivian said, “Everything’s good,” with her eyes still closed.

  “Are you sure you feel okay?” Reb said quietly. “Are you taking vitamins?”

  “Every day,” Vivian told her, puzzled.

  “You don’t get much nutrition from meals like that.” Reb gave Vivian’s plate an arch look. “Fat and pickles. It’s important to take good care of yourself, especially at times like this. You’ve got too much stress to cope with.”

  Bill Green cleared his throat. As soon as all eyes were on him he said, “I don’t have long so I should get this said quickly. I’ve gotta check in at my place out back and get to the office again. Wazoo let us know you’d be in, Vivian, and more people wanted to be here but you know how it is in the middle of the week.”

  Surely they hadn’t gathered a committee to tell her they thought she and her mother should give up on Rosebank.

  “I’m here for Marc, really,” Reb said. “He had to run into New Orleans but this will affect him more than me—obviously.”

  Olympia got up, said, “I’ll be back” to Bill and hurried outside.

  “Gary Legrain wants to be counted in,” Bill said, “and Homer Devol, if you can believe that. Spike hasn’t been officially asked but he will be and he’ll want to do it. Ozaire Dupre, Joe here, Wazoo’s going to be useful, Father Cyrus, a bunch of guys from the ice plant, Jilly, Gator Hibbs and the guy who bought the body shop. The list goes on. They all want to be in on it.”

  Vivian tried not to appear stupid but she had to ask, “In on what?”

  Bill’s wide grin made her like him even more. “We’re going to get enough work done at Rosebank so you and Charlotte can get your business going. We figure eight or ten rooms and the dining room should be enough at first. Zeb Dalcour, the ice plant boss, he’s gonna check the kitchens over because he knows about those things. Homer will lead a crew. Marc Girard already started roughing in some plans for adding bathrooms. He knows the house from when he was a kid. We’ve got it all worked out.”

  Vivian felt too overwhelmed to speak.

  “Yeah,” Wazoo said, “we got it. Ain’t no way that Susan Hurst and her man get their hands on your place. She bad, that one. I’m settin’ up the biggest fete you ever saw. Whole town’s ready to celebrate—and buy stuff. All proceeds to Rosebank.”

  Vivian blinked and Reb reached across the table for her hand. “Don’t be cross,” she said. “There’s no malice there.”

  “I don’t mean no harm,” Wazoo said in something close to a bashful tone. “I hear Mrs. Hurst tellin’ about that to Miz Charlotte. And I didn’t say it while that Olympia was here.”

  There would be no changing the habits of a lifetime. Wazoo would keep right on reporting their business, but perhaps it didn’t matter. All of these people were used to discussing their lives. “It’s okay,” Vivian told Wazoo. “It’s not important. But, Bill, I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve never been at this end of so much generosity. We can’t allow you to do it, any of you. You’ve all got your own lives to live.”

  Looking at his watch, Joe Gable stood. “I’ve got a client in a few minutes,” he said. “Listen to me, Vivian, and keep an open mind. You’ve been in New Orleans during a hurricane. You know how folks help each other and stick together. They do the same thing for all kinds of reasons every day. Take that way of thinkin’ and multiply it a few times. That’s Toussaint people, and the people in a lot of towns like ours.” He glanced at Ellie and back to Vivian. “You’ll hurt feelings if you refuse our help. And you’ll wish you hadn’t because you need that help. But you won’t refuse, will you?”

  The counselor knew how to back a woman into a corner. “I guess not, but I don’t want anyone having a hard time keeping up with their own issues just because of us.”

  Bill said, “Joe’s good at putting things into words. Things will start happening right away.” He got up and excused himself to go to the guest house behind the shop.

  Joe also left. Then Vivian caught sight of the dark Land Rover Marc Girard drove. It crawled to a stop in front of Hungry Eyes and Marc leaned across the passenger seat to look into the shop. Almost at once he appeared inside the door, which didn’t have time to close before Spike walked in.

  Spike tipped the brim of his hat to her and took it off. He didn’t smile but the way he looked at her was intimate enough to braid her nerves.

  “Uh-oh,” Ellie said. “You’re busted again, Dr. Reb.”

  Smiling, Reb held her hand out to her husband. “You caught me. I didn’t think you’d be back from New Orleans so soon.”

  “I made sure I was,” Marc said, and to Vivian, “I hope they explained how much we’re lookin’ forward to workin’ on that great old house of yours. I’m going to need to spend some time there in the next couple of days, if that can be managed.”

  “Of course.” She could barely swallow
. “Come whenever you like, as long as you’re sure you—”

  “I’m very sure,” Marc said and looked it.

  The only presence Vivian could really feel was Spike’s and he hadn’t said a word since he arrived. He stood there, fiddling with the brim of his hat and looking fixedly at her. She loved his “at ease” stance, and everything else about him.

  “Off we go, Reb,” Marc said, keeping her hand in his while he hauled Gaston up and draped him over one shoulder. The dog literally put his nose in the air. If he’d purred, Vivian wouldn’t have been surprised.

  Reb stood up and Marc gave her a kiss that didn’t qualify as a dutiful peck. Vivian knew her own smile was probably silly and didn’t care.

  “You were supposed to go straight home after two hours,” Marc told Reb. “The heat’s too much for you.”

  “I guess I didn’t want to go if you weren’t there,” Reb told him softly.

  Marc kissed her again, then, completely naturally, smoothed a hand over her belly, feeling, concentrating, then grinning when he must have felt a kick.

  The slightest movement caught Vivian’s attention. Spike watched the Girards as closely as she did. He watched with narrowed eyes and his mouth pressed shut. She saw him swallow hard and would have taken a bet that he was thinking of when Wendy was in the womb, and also wishing he had what Marc and Reb had.

  The couple, with Gaston flopped over Marc’s shoulder, said their goodbyes and left.

  Vivian and Spike were virtually alone and silently watching each other. Ellie and Wazoo, talking loudly, had left the café to go to the back of the bookshop.

  “They’re leaving us alone,” Spike said, and shrugged.

  “You think so?” She tried not to look at his mouth, but lost the battle. “Thank you for being so supportive last night. I’ve got to thank Cyrus, too.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said and reached for her arm. He pulled her between two book stacks. “I’m the lucky one. I’m feastin’ on last night…before we went swimmin’. You surely look good enough to eat when you don’t wear anything.”