“I thought you looked sweet, in a fierce kind of way.”
Chiffon held open a magazine. “Check out this hideous shot of me in The Globe. I look like I’m sucking on a lemon.”
Chenille was surprised at how much she’d been enjoying the company of her sister the last couple of weeks. Avoiding the press camped outside, the two women rarely left the house except to run out for groceries, diapers, and, of course, magazines. Being in each other’s constant proximity had pulled them closer together.
The intense media attention, though annoying, served as a distraction for Chiffon, who no longer spent her days mooning over Lonnie. The family’s financial situation had also improved. The sisters had managed to sell all of Lonnie’s things, enabling Chiffon to sock away over six thousand dollars. (Garnell did buy Lonnie’s dogs, promising Dewitt that he could visit them at any time.) And ever since Chiffon’s circumstances had been made public, checks from all over the country had trickled into the household. So far they’d gotten nearly fifteen hundred dollars in the mail.
“Chiffon, do you like my hair up or down?” Chenille said, pulling her locks into a topknot.
“I like it down around your shoulders,” Chiffon said, looking up from her magazine. “It’s sexier.”
Chenille released her hair and eyed herself critically in the mirror above the TV. “I think it needs a bow or a barrette.”
“Bows make you look too fussed over. Your hair’s much better loose,” Chiffon said. “Who are you getting all prettied up for? I heard you talking to Garnell on the phone the other day. Have you taken a shine to him?”
“Heavens, no,” Chenille said. “He’s a dear man, but not really my type. Walter’s veterinarian, on the other hand, is completely gorgeous.”
“Rubert Pitt? He weighs over three hundred pounds and is covered with moles.”
Chenille shook her head. “I took Walter to a specialist in Augusta. His name is Drake Dupree, and he asked me to a Kenny G concert.”
“Can’t say much for his taste in music,” Chiffon said with a frown.
“I don’t know what he sees in me,” Chenille said as she continued to gaze into the mirror. “Would you help me with some makeup?” She pinched her cheeks to coax some color into them. “I don’t want to look painted, but a touch of cosmetics—”
“We’ll have a makeover night!” The magazines slid from Chiffon’s lap as she leaped from the chair on her good foot. “We’ll give each other pedicures and manicures. I can even put some highlights in your hair.”
“Highlights? I don’t know—”
“We’ll dance to old records. Did you know I still have my hi-fi from high school? I’ll pop popcorn and make strawberry daiquiris. We’ll even do mud masks on each other.”
“Mud masks?” Chenille had a sudden memory of a crew of Chiffon’s high school friends, dressed in baby-doll nightgowns and giggling uncontrollably at their blackened faces in the mirror. She’d been holed up in her room trying to study for an AP history exam. “Maybe highlights would look nice,” she said, fingering a strand of her hair.
“We’ll have a girls’ night in. It’ll be a hoot. I haven’t done anything like that since Lonnie and I...” Chiffon trailed off. “It’s been too darn long.”
The phone rang and the two women waited for the answering machine to click on.
“Hi, Chiffon, it’s Mavis. I’m checking to see if you remembered the meeting this noon at the store.”
Chiffon scrambled for the handset hanging on the wall. “Hey there, I’m glad you called. It’s been so crazy around here that I almost forgot.”
Chenille eavesdropped as her sister laughed and gossiped with Mavis in a low voice. Chiffon’s friends called every day to checkup on her and exchange chitchat. Chenille, who’d always been somewhat of a wallflower, was envious of her sister’s easy repartee with her female friends.
“Would you mind watching Gabby again this afternoon?” Chiffon asked after she ended her phone call. “I’ve got a meeting at the Bottom Dollar Emporium.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Chenille said. She averted her eyes so her sister couldn’t read the hurt in them. Despite the recent closeness they’d shared, nothing had really changed. She was still the odd woman out.
“Elizabeth is bringing her new baby, so it’s a huge deal. There’s some bottles prepared in the fridge—” She snapped her fingers. “Hey! Maybe you’d like to come to the meeting. You knew Mavis, Attalee, and Birdie growing up. You probably don’t remember much about Elizabeth. She’s younger than both of us. But I’m sure you’ll like her.”
“What about Gabby?” Chenille said, flattered by the invitation.
“We’ll just take her with us. She’s usually napping around that time, and we’ll be back before the other kids get home from school.” Chiffon grabbed her sister’s hand. “So, what do you say?”
Chenille couldn’t remember the last time her sister had included her in anything. She was so touched, she feared she might cry.
“Thank you for asking. I’d love to come with you.”
With scarves wrapped around their heads and big Jackie O-type sunglasses on their noses, the two sisters prepared to sneak out of the house. Chenille cracked open the back door.
“Wait a minute,” Chiffon whispered just before they were going to slip out. “We might need some defensive ammunition.”
She peered inside the refrigerator and grabbed two aerosol cans of whipped cream and handed one to Chenille. “If they give us any trouble, they’ll get a snoutful of Reddi-wip,” she said with a wicked snicker.
Chenille examined the can. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Chiffon. Why do you have so many cans of whipped cream in your refrigerator?”
A sly grin flitted across Chiffon’s face. “I’m not so sure you’d want to know.”
Chenille blushed. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” Chiffon said, sliding a crutch under each arm. “But you carry Gabby, since you can move faster. I’ll get the diaper bag.”
The two slunk out the back door with their fingers poised on the spray buttons of the whipped cream. They inched along the perimeter of the house and were a short dash away from Chiffon’s car when two reporters and a photographer burst out from behind the azalea bushes.
“Have you seen the photos of Janie-Lynn and Lonnie dancing on top of tables at the Garden of Eden nightclub?” “Did you know that Lonnie got a tattoo on his bicep that says ‘Janie-Lynn Lauren Forever’?”
“Ready,” Chiffon said in a low voice.
“Aim,” Chenille answered.
“Fire!” the two sisters shrieked. They sprayed the interlopers full in the face and then sprinted to the car. As soon as they were safely inside, they were both seized by a fit of giggles.
“Next time we’ll get seltzer water,” Chiffon said as she pulled out of the driveway and down the road.
“Or maybe some Silly String,” Chenille said, holding her quivering belly.
“Let’s pull over somewhere and calm down for minute.” Chiffon parked at the curb and wiped tears from her eyes.
“The look on their faces. Lord, I wish I’d been the one with the camera.”
Chenille continued chuckling as she opened the door and crawled to secure Gabby in her car seat. “You’d think they’d be prepared for us after the Super Soaker incident,” she said, adjusting the straps over the squirming baby. “If they’re smart, they’ll start wearing raincoats.” She emerged from the backseat and opened the passenger door. “That reporter from US is cute, in a John Stamos kind of way. Don’t you think?” Chiffon stared straight ahead with both of her hands on the steering wheel.
“Chiffon? Are you all right?”
Chiffon slowly swung her head around to look at her sister. Her playful expression had been replaced with a pained look. “
Do you think what that reporter said about Lonnie’s tattoo is true?” she asked in a little-girl voice.
“Who knows?” Chenille tsked. “But I think tattoos are a tacky way of expressing your feelings for someone.”
“I have a tattoo,” Chiffon said softly.
“You do? I’ve never seen it.”
“You’re not meant to.” She paused. “It’s in a private place.”
“Oh.”
“Lonnie’s my love bear,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“That’s what the tattoo says. It’s my nickname for him. ‘Love Bear.’”
Chenille reached over the console and touched her sister’s hand. “I’m sure your tattoo was very tastefully done.”
“Lonnie was supposed to get a tattoo that said ‘Tweety Bird,’ his pet name for me, but the tattoo artist only got to the first ‘e’ before Lonnie begged him to stop. He never could abide much pain.”
“I’ve heard the procedure is uncomfortable.”
Chiffon swiped at her tears with her sleeve. “Don’t you see? He endured twenty-one letters for her, but he could only stand three letters for me.” Her voice cracked as she slumped over the steering wheel. “He’s been with her for just a few days, and he already loves her eight more times than he ever loved me!”
“Now, now,” Chenille said, resisting the urge to correct her sister’s math. “Maybe he just had a stronger anesthetic this time around.”
Chiffon lifted her head and stared at her sister with mascara-smeared eyes. “You think I’m an idiot, don’t you? Sticking by a man who treats me like a doormat.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Chenille said soothingly.
Fumbling in her jacket pocket, Chiffon extracted a balled-up tissue. “I still love him,” she said. “It’s not like I can just turn my feelings off with a spigot.”
“I’ve never had a serious love relationship, but I’m very familiar with the feeling of longing,” Chenille said, handing her sister a fresh tissue from the travel-size package she always kept in her purse. “But sometimes women put up with shabby behavior from men because they think that’s all they deserve.”
“He’s never treated me well,” Chiffon said, banging the dashboard with the palm of her hand. “Not when we were going steady, not when we got married, and especially not after we had kids.” She looked helplessly at Chenille, gulping back tears. “I don’t deserve anyone better than Lonnie. What do I have to offer? I’m a middle-aged, broken-down waitress living in a rickety purple house. I’m a lousy housekeeper and cook and a so-so mother. The one thing I’ve relied on all my life was my good looks, but wrinkles and worries are fading those fast.”
“You have lots of things going for you!” Chenille insisted. “What about all your friends? You’ve always managed to attract people to you. And you have a chutzpah that’s irresistible. The media noticed it right off.”
Chiffon snorted. “Yeah, I have chutzpah to spare when it comes to folks I barely know. But I’ve never been able to stand up to Lonnie, or Mama, for that matter.”
Chenille sighed. “Mama’s in a class by herself. I think even Godzilla would think twice about tangling with her. Don’t allow her to badger you. You’re fantastic. I’ve always wanted to be like you.”
Until she’d said it aloud, she hadn’t realized how much she truly meant it. In the past, her jealousy of her sister had always overshadowed her admiration.
“That’s funny,” Chiffon said with a sniff. “I’ve always thought you were the one who had it all together. You had the best grades, you went to college, and you worked at a career instead of just a lousy job. I’ve always respected you.”
“I never knew,” Chenille said softly. “Thanks for telling me.”
Chiffon smiled at her sister as she put the car into gear. “I guess we should go or we’ll be late for the meeting.”
For the second time that day, Chenille basked in the new, unfamiliar way of relating to her sister. She and Chenille had more in common than she could possibly imagine. How sad that they hadn’t discovered each other sooner.
Seventeen
The higher the hair, the closer to God.
~ Sign outside Dazzling Do’s
Ignoring the sign that said closed for lunch, Chiffon pushed open the door to the Bottom Dollar Emporium. The two sisters crossed the creaky wooden floor and followed the chorus of “coochie-coochie-coos” that came from the soda fountain area. There they found Mavis, Attalee, Mrs. Tobias, and Birdie clustered around baby Glenda, while a beaming Elizabeth looked on.
“That baby’s a dead ringer for my uncle Hoot, jowls and all,” Attalee said, chucking the baby’s chin.
“Hush, Attalee,” Mrs. Tobias said. “Little Glenda is a carbon copy of her beautiful mother. Aren’t you, precious?”
Elizabeth noticed the two sisters as they joined the group of admirers circled around Glenda.
“Hi, Chiffon. And you must be Chiffon’s sister, Chenille?” Elizabeth extended her hand. “You’re a legend in this town. Everyone still talks about how you took first place in the county-wide academic bowl during your senior year in high school.”
“I remember,” Chenille said. “George Eliot won it for me.”
“Who’s he?” Attalee asked.
Chenille laughed. “She is the author of Middlemarch. I was the only one on the panel who knew that.”
“I covered that event,” Birdie said. “That same year you were named valedictorian of Cayboo Creek High School. You brought a lot of pride to our little community.”
“Thank you, Birdie. I remember you. You publish the Crier,” Chenille said. “And I certainly remember Mavis and Attalee. I used to come in the Bottom Dollar Emporium for after-school sweets.” She glanced at Mrs. Tobias. “I’m sorry. You don’t look familiar. Have we met?”
“I’ve forgotten my manners,” Elizabeth said. “Grace Tobias, this is Chenille Grace. Chenille, my grandmother, Gracie Tobias.”
“Charmed,” Mrs. Tobias said with a friendly nod.
“Your baby is adorable, Elizabeth,” Chenille said. “She’s sleeping so peacefully.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth stifled a yawn and covered her daughter with a receiving blanket. “She should be tired. She was awake all night.”
Gabby had also fallen asleep, so Chiffon carefully lowered her into her carrier beside Glenda. Gazing at two sleeping children, she said, “Gabby looks like Gulliver next to Glenda. I’ve forgotten how tiny newborn babies can be.”
The women tiptoed away from their sleeping children and took their seats in a circle of chairs that Mavis had set up for their meeting.
“Let’s call the meeting to order, shall we?” Birdie said. “Who would like to be responsible for taking the minutes?”
“I will,” Mrs. Tobias said, waving a gold-plated fountain pen.
“Excellent,” Birdie said. “Now that we’ve chosen a fundraising project for the Senior Center, I want to emphasize how important it is to keep the specifics of our project discreet. Can everyone in this room keep a secret?”
“I probably shouldn’t be here,” Chenille said. “I’m an outsider, and maybe you’d rather not—”
“Nonsense,” Birdie said. “You’re Chiffon’s sister, so that makes you one of the family. Besides, we could use some objective input.”
“I’d love to hear all about it,” Chenille said.
“Very well.” Birdie’s eyes nervously scanned the room. “Who would like to tell Chenille about our little project? Mavis?”
Mavis’s face turned crimson. “Me?” She cleared her throat. “All right, then. Um, we’ve decided—That is, we’re going to—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Attalee said. “It ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. We’re just putting out a nudie calendar.”
“Attalee!” Mrs. Tobias said. She fanned her face with the minutes. “No one will appear nude in our calendar. Undressed, perhaps, disrobed, maybe, but nude, never!”
“Let me explain,” Elizabeth said. “We’ve decided to produce and sell a calendar that will feature very tasteful shots of the matriarchs of Cayboo Creek, wearing little more than a smile.”
“True Southern exposure,” Attalee said slyly.
“Nothing titillating will be on display,” Birdie added. “With the strategic placement of flowerpots, hats, and other props, the photographs will actually be quite tame.”
Chenille’s eyes widened. “All of you are going to take your clothes off for the camera?”
“Just us old gals. In order to be in the calendar, you gotta be over fifty,” Attalee said. “The four of us are going to alternate months. For instance, I’m Miss January, May, and October.”
“Oh my,” Chenille said.
“We were initially stunned when Attalee proposed the idea,” Birdie said. “But when we discussed it with Elizabeth’s mother-in-law, Daisy Hollingsworth, she thought it was an excellent way to raise money. In fact, she’d heard of another group in England called the Ladies of Rylstone who’d published a similar calendar and raised over half a million dollars for the fight against lymphoma.”
“And we all know how very proper the English are,” Mrs. Tobias said with a wag of her finger.
“Since I have a marketing background, I’ll be doing all of the publicity for the calendar,” Elizabeth said.
“Chiffon tells us that you used to teach English,” Birdie said to Chenille. “Maybe you’d be interested in coming up with some of the captions that will go with the photographs.”
“I’d like to,” Chenille said, “if I’m still here in Cayboo Creek.”
Chiffon sat uneasily in her chair, pushing back her cuticles. No one had thought of a way for her to contribute, but then again, she didn’t have any valuable skills.
A Dollar Short (The Bottom Dollar Series Book 2) Page 12
