by Ann B. Ross
“No,” Sam said, looking back at me from the bathroom door. “He’ll be back tomorrow, and for all we know, Brother Vern will be gone by then. I think we ought to assume this is just a brief visit and it may well be. Once he hears those two babies crying and James moaning and Lloyd running in and out, and Mildred and Ida Lee and you banging around in the kitchen, he may head for the hills before lunchtime.”
“And that’s another thing,” I said. “I talked Hazel Marie out of canceling our cooking session, but I don’t know how Mildred will take Vernon Puckett. She’s not accustomed to, well, his kind of personality. He’ll take one look at all the diamonds she wears and think he’s hit the jackpot.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Sam said, turning on the shower. Raising his voice over the roar of the water, he called, “I expect Mildred can look after herself.”
Mildred’s ability to look after herself was a given as far as I was concerned. If Brother Vern came on too strong, she could and would take him down not one, but several notches, if she took a mind to. No, my real concern was for Hazel Marie. It was the shame and embarrassment that she would suffer if her uncle began to poor-mouth, wheedle, and flat-out beg Mildred for support of whatever ragtag ministry he was currently engaged in.
Just as I finished telling Lillian the new problem we were about to face, the telephone rang.
I snatched it up, wondering what the news would be this time. “Yes?”
“Hey, Miss Julia, it’s me, Etta Mae. I just thought of something else to make for Hazel Marie. My granny would be tickled to death to have her recipe for Ritz cracker pie in your cookbook.”
Ritz cracker pie? I’d never heard of such a thing, but not wanting to offend Etta Mae or her granny, I said, “Well, I don’t know, Etta Mae. Your chicken dish might be all she can handle.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I can whip it up in a minute and all she has to do is watch. Listen to this.”
She read it off to me, then said, “See? Real easy and real good. My granny’s been fixing it for years.”
Etta Mae’s Granny’s Ritz Cracker Pie
20 Ritz crackers, crumbled coarsely
1 scant cup sugar
3/4 cup pecan pieces
3 egg whites
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Mix the crackers with 1/2 cup of the sugar and add the pecans. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites with the rest of the sugar, then fold the cracker mixture into the beaten whites. Pour it all into a greased 8-inch pie plate and bake for 20 minutes. Serve with whipped cream.
Serves 6.
(Hazel Marie, if anybody asks, you can tell them what’s in this. Otherwise, I’d keep quiet.)
“Yes, it does sound easy,” I agreed, but for the life of me I couldn’t imagine what a sweet Ritz cracker would taste like. “So if you want to make it, I’ll get the ingredients. But, Etta Mae, let me ask you something while I have you. Did you ever know Hazel Marie’s uncle Vernon Puckett?”
“Oh, brother, did I ever. Why?”
“Well, he’s now shown up at Hazel Marie’s, saying he wants to be with his family in his time of need.”
“When has he ever not had a time of need?” Etta Mae demanded. “I hope Hazel Marie runs him off, and if she won’t, I bet J.D. will. He’s nothing but a leech, Miss Julia. He’s been trying to get me in a river for years.”
“What! Get you in a river?”
“For full immersion in running water, which he says is the only kind that takes. And I’ve already been baptized about three times. I’m not going to do it anymore.”
“Well,” I said, somewhat taken aback because I’d always thought that once baptized, always baptized. “I don’t blame you. Stay out of rivers, Etta Mae—no telling what’s in them. Of course, we Presbyterians don’t believe in full-body dunking. We just sprinkle a little water on the head, which doesn’t soak you through and through, but it sure does mess up your hair. Anyway, I’m hoping Brother Vern is there just for a short visit and that he’ll be gone before your cooking day.”
“Me, too. But, listen, Miss Julia, there’s another reason I called. I may have somebody to help Hazel Marie. She’s real good with babies—loves them to death—and, if they don’t mind plain country cooking, she’s a whiz in the kitchen.”
Brother Vern flew out of my head. “Wonderful, Etta Mae. That is wonderful news. Who is it? Do I know her?”
“I think you’ve met her. It’s my granny. She says she’s going crazy out in the country by herself. She’s been doing for other people all her life, and now with the family all gone, she needs something to do. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, she keeps telling me, and if I don’t find her something, she’s going to apply at Wal-Mart for the Christmas season. I don’t want her working there, but she says her Social Security has stopped stretching and she needs the work.”
A vague image of the skinny, fast-talking, gray-haired woman leaning on Hazel Marie reared up in my mind, and I really didn’t know what to say. So I temporized. “Well, Etta Mae, I know Hazel Marie would love to have her around, but it might be too hard on your granny. I mean, it’ll be a lot of work, what with the babies, James, and maybe Brother Vern, too. I’m not sure she’d be able to handle it.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the amount of work that woman can put out. She’d love it and it would set my mind at ease, knowing that nobody’s going to grab her in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I’ll call Hazel Marie right now and tell her that her worries are over.”
We hung up as I hung over the counter in dismay, realizing that Granny Wiggins would do nothing but add to Hazel Marie’s workload.
Chapter 10
After telling Lillian what Etta Mae had just told me, I sank down in a chair and wondered what in the world to do.
“Mrs. Wiggins won’t be a bit of help, Lillian. She’s older than the hills and about the size of Lloyd. She can’t possibly get James in and out of bed by herself. Oh, she can take trays in to him, but whether she can cook or not, I don’t know. And the babies! One of them would drag her down to the floor, to say nothing of trying to manage two. It’s just not going to work.”
“I think you worryin’ ’fore you have to,” Lillian said as she came over to set the table. “’Sides, if she that bad, why didn’t you tell Miss Etta Mae she won’t do?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, that’s why. So now her feelings are really going to be hurt when we try her grandmother out, then have to let her go. Oh,” I sighed, “it’s all a big mess. I’ve a good mind to move Hazel Marie, the babies, and Mr. Pickens back over here and leave her house to all the sick and ailing and elderly.”
“Huh, where you gonna put ’em? You forgettin’ that that big bedroom you used to have downstairs be a liberry now?”
“I guess that won’t work, will it?” Then I straightened up with determination and said, “Well, if it comes down to it, I’ll just buy them another house.”
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, frowning at me, “you goin’ off about half cockeyed now. What good’s that gonna do? Miss Hazel Marie, she feel like she got to take care of James an’ her uncle, an’ I guess Miss Etta Mae’s granny, too, if it come to it, so she won’t move out an’ leave ’em all by theyselves. You got to come up with something else.”
“I know it,” I said, sagging back again. “I’m just talking to hear myself talk.”
Sam called after Lillian and I had eaten supper and Lillian had left for home. He was at Hazel Marie’s, spending another night—the last one, I hoped—looking after James.
“Julia?” he said, speaking softly. “I just have a minute to talk, but wanted you to know that you were right. Hazel Marie’s uncle says he’s been diagnosed with the high blood, which I guess means high blood pressure, and the doctor’s told him he has to get a lot of rest and stay on his diet or he’ll have a stroke. So it looks like he’s here for the long haul, or at least till Pickens get
s home.”
Well, that just took the cake. Hazel Marie might as well open a rest home and welcome all comers. The idea of that man just showing up, expecting Hazel Marie to nurse and care for him after all he’d put her through. It beat all I’d ever heard, and I told Sam so.
“You remember, don’t you, Sam,” I said, “how he treated her and how she showed up at my door, black and blue, and how he’s tried everything under the sun to get his hands on Lloyd’s inheritance? It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he’s as healthy as a horse. I’d demand to see a doctor’s report, if it were me, and I expect Mr. Pickens will. What’s he doing now?”
“Resting. Hazel Marie had to put him in Lloyd’s room—the only empty one left. So Lloyd will be with you tonight, and—this should make you feel better—he’ll be with us full time for as long as Brother Vern is here.”
“Well, of course I’m glad we’ll have Lloyd, but that’s his room and he may not appreciate being evicted. Why didn’t she put him in James’s apartment?”
Sam chuckled under his breath. “James got downright feisty at that idea. Didn’t like it a bit, and I don’t blame him. That’s his home. But I tell you, Julia, I thought they were going to have a knock-down, drag-out fight—James and Brother Vern didn’t take to each other at all. James said if anybody was going to live in his house, it would be him and he’d just lie up there by himself and starve to death.”
“Oh, my,” I groaned. “Well, I hope you get some sleep tonight. I’ll be over around nine to meet Mildred and Ida Lee, but I expect the last thing on Hazel Marie’s mind now is learning to cook.”
I didn’t know what to expect when I rang the bell at Hazel Marie’s house the next morning, but I thought—wrongly, as it turned out—that I was prepared for the worst. Sam had called earlier and told me that he was staying over to be a short-order cook for what he called all the boarders, while Hazel Marie saw to the babies and Lloyd took breakfast orders from James and Brother Vern.
And now, as I stood waiting to be admitted, sniffing at the sight in the driveway of what had to be Brother Vern’s old, listing-to-one-side Cadillac—burnt orange and white, looking like a reject from a Florida used-car lot—my bright idea of how to put food on Hazel Marie’s table seemed an unworkable trifle. But I’d set it in motion, so there was nothing to do but see it through. At least for this day, which if it turned into a holy mess, I’d cancel the other cooks and shelve my cookbook plans.
Sam opened the door for me, smiled grimly, and said, “Welcome to the madhouse, sweetheart.”
I hugged him, having sorely missed him the last few nights. “Go home, Sam, and get in bed. I expect you’ve been up all night, haven’t you?”
“Just off and on. James is doing better physically, but he’s all torn up about Vernon Puckett coming in and taking everybody’s attention.”
“Is Brother Vern really sick?” I whispered as we stood in the front hall, with household sounds reverberating from up and down the stairs.
“Yeah, I guess he is,” Sam said, sighing. “Apparently, he does have hypertension. He told us about his dizzy spells—where he had them, how long they lasted—all in great detail, and how the doctor told him he’s a stroke waiting to happen. He’s on some kind of expensive medication—well, he’s supposed to be, but he says he can’t afford to have the prescription filled. That was for Hazel Marie’s benefit, of course, and she immediately gave him some money, which so far remains in his pocket.”
“Which is probably where it’ll stay,” I said, “waiting for more. But, Sam, does he look sick? Is he on bed rest? How much help—besides financial—does he need?”
“Well, I tell you, Julia, he looks fine to me. His face is a little flushed, but that’s pretty much his natural coloring, if I remember correctly. And he’s taking seriously what the doctor said about resting—he even suggested moving James upstairs and letting him have the downstairs bedroom with its own bath, so he wouldn’t have to climb the stairs. I put my foot down on that, because I saw how quickly he can move when it’s time to eat.”
About that time, Lloyd came out of James’s bedroom, saw us in the hall, and walked over just as one of the babies screamed upstairs. “Mornin’, Miss Julia,” he said, putting his hands over his ears. “Kinda hectic around here, isn’t it?”
I put my arm around his shoulders. “I expect you wish it was a school day, don’t you? But we’re going to need you when Miss Mildred and Ida Lee get here.”
“There they are now,” he said, pointing out the door as Mildred’s sleek Lincoln Town Car pulled in behind that Popsicle-colored Cadillac in the driveway.
“Oh, my,” I said, watching as Ida Lee began unloading bags of groceries from the car. “Where’s Brother Vern? Is the kitchen clean?”
“Kitchen’s all cleaned up,” Sam said, “and Brother Vern’s still in bed.”
Lloyd said, “I had to take his breakfast to him, ’cause he didn’t feel like getting up. Mr. Sam made his famous pancakes and Brother Vern fussed at me ’cause they got cold on my way up. Even though I hurried.”
Sam went out to help unload Mildred’s car, and I turned to Lloyd. “His fussing at you is going to stop. He’ll probably do it only when nobody else is around, so you tell me if he says anything to you again.”
“Well, I don’t mind,” the boy said. “Sick people get kinda cranky anyway.”
“You’re very understanding, Lloyd, but I’ve yet to be convinced that he’s really sick. Oh,” I said, plastering a smile on my face and turning as Mildred got to the door, a sack in her hand. “Good morning, Mildred. Are you ready to start cooking up a storm?”
“I sure am,” Mildred said, plainly in an expectant mood. “Look, I brought in the mushrooms. And good morning to you, Lloyd.”
Sam and Ida Lee followed her in, their arms full of grocery sacks, pots, and various utensils. Greetings flowed around us as I relieved Ida Lee of a Dutch oven and a chef’s knife, while Lloyd caught an overloaded sack from Sam. Leading them all to the kitchen, side-stepping a stroller on my way, I chattered away, telling them about Hazel Marie’s uncle, who’d made a surprise visit.
“But he won’t bother us,” I said, “and we won’t bother him. We’re going to have a wonderful time. Lloyd, if you will, run up and tell your mother everybody’s here and we’re ready to start.”
Ida Lee arranged things on the kitchen counter, while Mildred settled herself at the table in the corner of the kitchen, and I began pouring coffee. “Now, Mildred,” I said, in an attempt to prepare her, “Hazel Marie’s uncle is a case unto himself, I’m sorry to say. If he comes in, you’ll just have to overlook him. But he’s not feeling well, so you may not get to meet him. Hazel Marie, though, may be a little jumpy and not have her mind too much on cooking—they’ve never really gotten along.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Mildred said, reaching for the sugar bowl as the array of diamonds on her fingers sparkled in the light. It wasn’t that she wore so many rings as it was so many carats in a few. “My family’s full of that kind. He won’t bother me at all.”
Hazel Marie walked in then, looking somewhat distracted and ragged in an old navy running suit that she’d about worn out during her pregnancy and that I now wished she had. She greeted Mildred and Ida Lee, then told us that the babies were down for a nap that she hoped would be a long one. She accepted the coffee cup I handed her and visibly made an effort to face what I feared was a now-unwanted cooking lesson.
“You’re all so nice to do this for me,” Hazel Marie said, putting on the social smile that she’d learned from me. “I can’t wait to get started.”
“Well,” I said, pulling out a chair, “rest a minute before you start. Has James had his breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, “before anybody else. I think he got worried about his bills or something. He sent Lloyd out to check his mailbox real early, which,” she went on with a wry smile
, “was another thing I forgot to do. Anyway, the two of them have been huddled in there, going over his mail. I think Lloyd’s doing the writing for him. I’m not sure the poor thing can even sign his name.”
About that time, Lloyd stuck his head in and announced, “As soon as I finish helping James, I’m going to run to the post office for him. If anybody needs me for anything, I’ll be at Miss Julia’s house working on my computer after that. There’re some things I have to look up.”
Hazel Marie jumped up and kissed him. “You’re real sweet to help James out. My goodness,” she said, noticing the stack of envelopes in Lloyd’s hand, “he has a lot of correspondence.” As Lloyd left, she turned back to us. “Let’s get started, Ida Lee, and you better keep me busy. The babies are teething and I didn’t get much sleep. I might keel over any minute.”
“We’ll get our beef stroganoff on in just a few minutes,” Ida Lee said. “Why don’t you sit down and watch.”
“No, I want to do something. But you have to tell me what to do. And, I guess,” Hazel Marie said with a laugh, “tell me how to do it.”
“All right,” Ida Lee said, opening a package of meat. “First, we’re going to put our recipe right here so we can follow it and not miss anything. Then we’ll cut this sirloin into cubes, about an inch or so in size. Here’s a cutting board and a knife. You can start, but be sure to trim off all the fat.”
That lasted a minute or so, as Hazel Marie carefully—too carefully—sawed away at the meat. Then Ida Lee took the knife, saying, “You’re doing good, but why don’t you put the Dutch oven on the stove and put a couple of tablespoons of butter in it. Then you can slice the onions. I’ll finish this.”
I sat down by Mildred to watch the show, then almost said something to correct what Hazel Marie was doing. Ida Lee beat me to it.
Softly and patiently, Ida Lee said, “It works better if you peel the onions first.”
