by Cathy Holton
Redmon took his hand. “I like you, boy,” he said. “If this don't work out I maybe got some work for you over in Walnut Springs.”
“Okay.” Jimmy Lee nodded once at Virginia. She stepped aside so he could pass but at the last minute she said, “Oh, and one other thing.” He turned around. “Let's keep this between us, for the moment. Just until we see if it's going to work out or not. We're kind of in a sticky situation what with offering the partnership to you first, and not Charles. I don't want Nita caught in the middle, if you know what I mean.” She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly manner.
Jimmy Lee shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “I'll keep it quiet for the time being. Let me see what I can do.”
LEOTA QUARLES WAS STILL IN BED WHEN NITA ARRIVED, ALTHOUGH she was sitting up and smiling. She'd been sick with pneumonia the last few weeks and hadn't been able to have any visitors. The pneumonia had hung on, persisting through three rounds of antibiotic treatment before finally disappearing.
“Hey, Miz Broadwell,” she said, catching sight of Nita. Nita had told Leota her name was Motes now but she had obviously forgotten.
“You're looking so much better,” Nita said, putting the flowers she had brought on the nightstand beside the bed.
“Oh, thank you. Those are lovely. Lilies are my favorite.”
Nita stood beside the bed, patting her arm. “Miss Leota we don't have to talk today. You go ahead and save your strength.”
“Good gracious, no,” the old woman said, shaking her head. “I look forward to your visits, honey. The older you get, the more time you like to spend in the past. And sometimes it's nice to have someone along with you.” She motioned for Nita to sit down. After a while, she cleared her throat and began to talk.
“Her fifteenth year, everything changed. Miss Virginia got an electric sewing machine for Christmas and she began to make her own clothes, studying the glamour magazines she checked out from the public library and copying the styles she saw movie stars and debutantes wearing. Every Saturday, she went to the movies with a different boy and she'd come home with stars in her eyes and set about making whatever outfit she'd seen Bette Davis or Lauren Bacall or Ava Gardner wearing. She was still small in stature but she had a lovely figure, which her stylish clothes showed off nicely. That was also the year Mary Lee Hamilton died. She just stopped eating and then she died. She had that disease, that … oh, now, what do you call it?”
“Anorexia nervosa?”
“Is that what they call it? We just called it starving yourself to death. Anyway, she died in the fall and after that the other girls started being a lot nicer to Miss Virginia. They started asking her to go with them to the malt shop and the drive-in theater and downtown on Saturday afternoons. The boys had been nice to her for a while but now the girls started being nice, too, and just when it seemed like everything was going Miss Virginia's way, just when it seemed like the Queen Bee might be back for good, trouble found her. Trouble with a capital T. That was the year Hampton Boone came back from Vanderbilt for Christmas.”
She coughed a little bit and Nita poured her a glass of water and waited while she drank it. Leota smiled and lay back with her head on a pillow.
“Hampton Boone was three years older than Miss Virginia and he'd gone to that fancy school out on the river, oh, now, what do you call that school?”
“Barron Hall?”
“Yeah, that's it. Only in those days it was a boys school, there were no girls allowed. Anyway, Hampton Boone was what you'd call movie star handsome. He was tall and blond and he'd walk down the street and the girls would practically swoon at his feet. He'd gone up to Vanderbilt with that Maureen Hamilton, Mary Lee's older sister, and everybody said they were engaged. Miss Virginia must have known who he was, but I'd never heard her speak of Hampton Boone until that Christmas he came back to visit his mama on his school vacation.
Miss Virginia'd been coming out of the malt shop with some of the other girls and Hampton was going in. He stood there holding the door and looking at her like he'd seen an angel. She told me about it later, how he stood there with the sunlight shining on his blond hair and staring at her. She'd said thank you, and tripped out with her little nose in the air, 'cause Miss Virginia was savvy when it came to boys. She knew the only way to catch one was to act like you didn't want nothing to do with him.
Anyway, Hampton Boone had never been treated like that by a female in his whole life, and he fell hard, right there in the doorway of the malt shop. He called Miss Virginia on the phone and asked her to go with him to the movies and she said no, she already had a date, and he said, break it. Just like that. Later on, he showed up at the movie theater where Miss Virginia and her date were, and he had a bouquet of yellow roses, and when Miss Virginia came out with her date he handed them to her. She said why didn't he give them to Maureen Hamilton since they were engaged, and he said he wasn't engaged to nobody, least of all Maureen Hamilton. She was with Bob Parsons and she said, Bob, take me home now, and Hampton Boone said, I'm taking you home, and she said, Not on your life. He looked at Bob and said, I'm taking her home, and Bob said, Sure, Hamp, whatever you want.”
ALL THE WAY HOME NITA THOUGHT ABOUT VIRGINIA'S SAD CHILDHOOD. She could almost picture the childish Virginia, disparaged and cruelly treated by the Mary Lee Hamilton's of the world, yet proud and defiant still in the face of poverty and adversity. The loneliness and isolation of the island must have been like a physical wound to someone as dignified and socially needy as Virginia was. Nita felt certain that the chains that bound her had been forged on that lonely island in the middle of the Black Warrior River, chains that Virginia had never been able to break, no matter how hard she tried to reinvent herself, no matter how many wealthy men she married. Although none of this excused Virginia's domineering nature, it did help explain it.
Nita got home early enough to make dinner, for a change. Jimmy Lee had a meeting at the bank and Logan was in his room, strumming his guitar. Whitney lay on the sofa in the den, idly flipping through TV channels.
“Wash your hands,” Nita said to her. “And set the table for dinner.”
Whitney groaned and covered her face with a pillow. “Why do I always have to set the table. Why doesn't Logan ever do anything around here?”
“Logan mows the grass and takes out the trash. But if you'd like to switch jobs for a while, that's fine with me.”
Whitney threw the pillow across the room and got up and lurched into the kitchen like a felon on her way to a public flogging. Nita watched her in amazement. She couldn't understand Whitney's surly behavior. Nita had always been a happy child. She came from a family who'd always loved one another and not been ashamed to show it, a family who'd done their chores without complaining. Times were lean, financially, when Nita and her two brothers were children, but Nita had not been aware of this. Her daddy was a stonemason, a working man, whose fortunes did not improve until Nita and her brothers were nearly grown. But even when times were tough Loretta and Eustis had made sure their children didn't go without. There might not have been fancy vacations to Disney World or the Grand Canyon, but Eustis had built them a sweet little camper out of plywood and canvas and they'd camped all over the Southeast, swimming in lakes so clear you could see the mussels nestled in their silty bottoms, and hiking mountain trails where Cherokee war parties had once roamed.
When Jimmy Lee got home that night he looked tired and discouraged. He'd had a lean spring so far and Nita knew he was worried about money. She was able to cover their expenses and some of the mortgage with the money Charles paid her for child support. And she paid for her college tuition with money from her own account. But she knew firsthand the terrors of self-employment—her own father had struggled for years before his masonry business showed a fat bank account—and she knew Jimmy Lee was worried about the next job coming in. They had four hundred dollars in their bank account and the mortgage was due in three weeks. Well, it couldn't be helped. Nita would transfer some of the money in her acco
unt into their joint account, although how she would do it without hurting his pride, she wasn't sure.
“You cooked dinner,” Jimmy Lee said, leaning to kiss her. He was wearing khaki slacks and the blue-striped shirt he had worn to their wedding, and looked as handsome and successful as any New York stockbroker on his way up the corporate ladder. He had dressed up for his meeting at the bank, although she could tell from his face it hadn't gone well.
Nita put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him again. “Wash your hands and we'll eat,” she said.
Nita filled everyone's plate and then sat down. They held hands while Jimmy Lee said the blessing.
“Hey, Jimmy, I downloaded those chords from ‘Statesboro Blues’ today,” Logan said, opening up his napkin. He and his stepfather shared a love of music.
“Cool,” Jimmy Lee said. “Did you learn them yet?”
“I've got the first part figured out but the instrumental is pretty complicated.” Logan had recently dyed his hair a deep shade of red. Beneath the overhead light, his lip ring glistened wetly.
“Yeah, I know,” Jimmy Lee said. “Dickey Betts is God.”
Whitney sniffed her plate and said, “What exactly is this stuff?”
Jimmy Lee chewed steadily, looking at her. He clutched his fork and rested his chin on the top of his hand. “You're welcome to help out with the cooking if you don't like the menu. Feel free to do some work around the house if you don't feel we're living up to your high standards.”
“It's a chicken and rice casserole,” Nita said, frowning at Jimmy Lee. He scowled and looked at his plate. There was a lot of tension between him and Whitney lately.
“Grandmother has a cook,” Whitney said, trailing her fork around her plate but not putting anything in her mouth.
“Well, bully for grandmother,” Jimmy Lee said.
“Pass the biscuits,” Nita said to Logan.
“If I was married to one of the richest men in Georgia, I guess I'd have a cook, too,” Jimmy Lee said bitterly.
“Well, technically, you have a cook,” Nita reminded him, pointing to the chicken casserole. She wished he'd figure out some way to knock the chip off his shoulder.
“I like it, Mom,” Logan said, spooning out a second helping of casserole. “It's good.”
Nita smiled at him. “Thanks, honey,” she said.
Whitney put her hand on her hip and looked at her mother. “Is that true?” she said. “Is Grandmother married to one of the richest men in Georgia?”
Later, helping her clean up after dinner, Jimmy Lee came up behind her at the sink and put his arms around her, nuzzling her ear. “Sorry about being an asshole,” he said.
She turned her head and kissed him. “Were you being an asshole?” she said. “I didn't notice.”
“It was really good,” he said. “The casserole.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her rubber gloves off and then turned around and slid her hands into his back pockets. “Look,” she said in a quiet voice. “It's going to take some adjusting. But it'll work out.”
He frowned and smoothed her hair off her face. “It's just that, sometimes I feel like she's criticizing me.”
“She's twelve years old. She criticizes everybody.”
“I can't give her the things her father can give her. The things her grandmother can give her.”
Nita laughed. “No one's asking you to,” she said. “You're the one putting pressure on yourself. I told you. Material things are just things. They're not important. None of that matters.”
Jimmy Lee humped his shoulders and stared out the window. “It matters to me,” he said.
She kissed him and then turned again to the sink, leaving it at that. Between going to school, working on her paper, and trying to keep the family together, she was too tired to argue. She picked up the rubber gloves. He reached around her, and took the sponge and the gloves away from her.
“Go sit down, Mrs. Motes,” he said. “I'll finish this.”
LATER HE CAME INTO THE BEDROOM WHERE NITA WAS WORKING on her paper. She had given it to Professor Limerick, who had edited it and given it back to her for revision. He had agreed to meet with her tomorrow morning to review it one more time before she submitted it to the Journal of Southern Historical Perspective. She had worked on the paper feverishly over the past few days. Laundry piled up in the laundry room. Dishes stacked up on the kitchen counter. Beds went unmade.
Jimmy Lee closed the door softly behind him. “We need to talk,” he said.
He never discussed money with her. What else could make him sound so serious? The only thing she could think of was that he meant to criticize her housekeeping ability. Or lack thereof. He stood quietly for a few minutes, running his fingers through his dark hair. Down the hall she could hear Logan playing video games in the den.
“Look,” she said. “I know I'm a little behind with the housework. But I'm trying to get this paper finished, and once it is, we'll get back on a regular routine. I promise.”
“No, no, it's not that,” he said.
She sat on the bed with one leg drawn up beneath her. She closed her laptop and dropped both hands into her lap, waiting.
“I have an opportunity to go into business with someone,” he said, picking his words carefully. “On a development project out on the river. It's the kind of thing where I really think I can make some money, some good money.” His voice shook with excitement, or nervousness, she wasn't sure which. Maybe both. “I haven't done any development deals, of course, so it's a stretch for me, but I really think I can do it.” He looked at her. There was color in his cheeks and along the dark ridge of jaw just above his throat. “Honey, it's the opportunity I've been waiting for. I know it in my heart.”
Nita shrugged, relieved that this wasn't about her bad housekeeping. “Well, if you think it's what you want to do, then go for it.”
His eyes widened. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course.”
He slid his hands into his front pockets. He bumped the toe of his boot against the leg of the dresser. “There's only one problem.”
“Oh?” She had already opened her laptop and pulled up the screen.
“I need money.”
She reread the last paragraph again, and decided it wasn't right. “Talk to the bank,” she said.
“I did. They say I don't have enough collateral.”
She pushed the laptop away and looked at him. The table lamp glowed, washing the cypress-paneled walls with a warm light.
“How much?”
He told her. Down the hallway, Logan took on the entire Japanese army. The sound of machine-gun and mortar fire ricocheted down the narrow hallway. She looked down at her hands and thought, I have college. I have this paper. He should have something. She spread her hands in her lap. “If I put the money up for collateral, will the bank give you the loan?”
He looked worried. “Maybe,” he said. “But they want to take a look at the deal first. It'd be easier if I just borrowed the money from you.”
She shrugged. “Look,” she said. “If it's what you want to do, just go for it.”
The tension drained out of his shoulders. He sat down on the bed and put his arms around her. “I've got the prospectus,” he said. She could hear a tremor in his voice. His mouth was warm against her hair. “You can read it and you'll see I'm right. It's the deal of a lifetime, honey.”
She pulled away and patted his cheek playfully. “If you say so. But I don't want to read it. I don't have time. I've got to get this paper finished before I lose my mind.” She nodded at the laptop.
“You won't be sorry,” he said, letting her go. He stood up and put both hands on her shoulders. “I won't need the money for very long. Just until the first five or six lots sell and then I'll be able to pay you back. You can charge me interest,” he said. “More than you were getting at the bank.”
She tilted her head back and looked at him. “Don't be ridiculous,” she said.
All the way to Prof
essor Limerick's office the next morning, she thought about how happy Jimmy Lee had been this morning, how he'd gone around the house whistling and joking with the kids, just like when they first lived together. She had left him happily going over a plat that was spread out over the kitchen table. Culpepper Development Company, the plat read in one corner.
Nita didn't know any Culpeppers but she hoped whoever it was would realize Jimmy Lee's trustworthiness, and treat him accordingly.
IN THE WEEKS FOLLOWING THEIR FIRST DATE, LAVONNE saw Joe nearly every day because he showed up at the Shofar So Good Deli for lunch. He'd sit at a small table over by the window and when she had a break, she'd join him. He was an engineer at DuPont and could pretty much set his own schedule. His father had worked for General Electric for forty-five years but Joe had worked for a half-dozen Fortune 500 companies over the past twenty years before settling down with DuPont. During that time he'd had plenty of chances to grow disillusioned with the corporate world. “I don't know,” he said one afternoon to Lavonne. They were sitting at the window watching a crowd of teenage boys mill around the next-door parking lot with their skateboards. “One day you're like those guys, free and easy with your whole life in front of you, and the next day you wake up and it's twenty years later and you're stuck in a dead-end job you hate.” He sipped his sweet tea and looked at the boys wistfully. Lavonne refilled his glass from the pitcher that rested on the table between them. It was one of the things she had found Northerners took to best—sweet tea. If you ordered it in a restaurant up North, people looked at you like you were crazy, but once you got a taste for it, it was like a cocaine addiction. “Sorry,” he said. “I don't mean to bore you.”
“You're not boring me,” she said. “If you start to bore me, I'll look like this.” She put her head back and closed her eyes, pretending to snore.
He grinned and went on. “My dad worked for the same company for forty-five years and I guess I thought it would be that way for me, too. When you're young and just out of college with a wife and college loans to pay back, you think a nine-to-five job in the corporate world is the best thing that could happen to you. These days, the only way to get ahead is to move around, and so you do that, even though it's the same thing wherever you go, and eventually you have a mortgage and car loans and a kid and you wake up one day and twenty years of your life is gone.” He took a bite of his sandwich, pastrami on rye, and chewed slowly. “And now I'm forty-four years old and I'm competing with a bunch of twenty-something Harvard MBAs who can live on half my salary. I've survived three layoffs but the writing's on the wall, it's just a matter of time until I get the ax, and the funny thing is, I don't even care. I can't wait until the ax falls because then I'll have an excuse to start over. Is that crazy, Lavonne?”
