The Sassy Belles

by Beth Albright

  “Blake?” It was Vivi.

  “Vivi? Hi, honey.”

  “I am just crazy.” She thought I needed a phone call to confirm this? She continued, “Oh, my God. I am so sorry about last night.” An apology bathed in embarrassment. “I was so tired I don’t even remember getting up the stairs.”

  “Don’t you worry, it was a long day for all of us. Are you okay this morning?”

  “Oh, yeah, honey, I’m always okay…you know, just nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs, that’s all. I don’t know what to do next. Just pacing everywhere…waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. Any word?”

  I was still on my stomach with the phone tucked under me, pushed into my pillow, eyes still closed.

  “No word yet. I’m going to get up and I’ll meet you at Mother’s at eight-thirty. Okay?”

  “Is Harry there?” she asked.

  “No, he must’ve left early.”

  “Oh…do you think there might be some news?”

  “He would let us know right away if there was. Try not to worry. I’ll see you in a few.”

  We hung up and I lay there, clutching the phone to my chest and breathing in the morning air. I tried to exhale, pushing away the events that were about to play out.

  I turned over in my bed and stared at the double crown molding. I loved this old house. It was built in the 1800s. You know…one of those huge old Southern homes with the sweeping, wraparound front porch. The ceiling fans turned in slow motion all the time. I never turned them off. Slow-turning ceiling fans were so inviting. To me they meant someone was home, cooking something, the down pillows were all fluffed and waiting for you to rest your weary head, iced tea and fresh chocolate cake were waiting somewhere in the kitchen. The fans welcomed me home every night, even if the house was empty. Somehow I believed they made the place feel full, awake and alive.

  Harry and I bought this house five years ago as a gift to each other. It was for our fifth anniversary. We had lived in a little town house near the campus up until then. We both loved this house from the minute we found it that evening in November. It needed a little love, but it felt like home the second we walked in the door. Harry and I didn’t say a word to each other…just a glance and we knew. We could love this house into our home. Of course we walked the whole house, holding hands, almost giddy with the rush of the future and all it held tingling between us.

  There was a sweeping, curved front staircase, a wide and airy front hall, two large parlors on each side, creaking wood floors and brick fireplaces in nearly every room creating a fairy-tale ambience that I had never felt anywhere before. Sleeping many nights with the dance of the firelight on the walls was a comfort that is indescribable.

  Many a spring night we slept with the windows open. I loved the seasons in that house. Each one has its own indelible fingerprint on my memories of living there. I had hoped the house would be a new beginning for us. The year before we moved in, when things had just started to become cold between us around the time of the awful disintegration of Harry’s relationship with Lewis, I still had a lot of hope for us. The house symbolized a new start. It never really became that for us, but even lying in bed the morning after Lewis went missing, I still loved it there. It was home for me.

  As I made my way to the shower, I decided to call Harry.

  “Hey, sorry about running off this morning. I didn’t want to wake you,” Harry said. He sounded breathless.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Seems like Lewis’s clothes, or someone’s clothes, washed up at the river last night…about fifty yards up from the Cypress Inn.”

  “Have the clothes been tested yet?” I asked.

  “They are actually on their way to the lab, but we were thinking maybe Vivi could ID them. We need to know if these were the clothes Lewis was wearing when she was with him at the Fountain Mist. We’re still waiting on the DNA results of the washed-up body parts, but this could definitely get things moving.”

  “I talked to her this morning. She’s meeting me at Mother’s at 8:30.”

  “Sonny and the police are all already involved,” Harry said. “I’ll meet you there, too. We should let Vivi know what’s going on. That way we can warn her before she has to look at the clothes. There’s going to be a press conference at noon.”

  I figured that would be next. Since Lewis was the play-by-play…is the play-by-play announcer for the Alabama Crimson Tide, the news of his disappearance would have the media in a frenzy. See, Tuscaloosa is not just any football town. There are plenty of college towns with good teams. But in Tuscaloosa, football is the town. Everyone there, whether they went to Bama or didn’t even go to college, is a fan. There are only two seasons here—football and waiting for football. As soon as the season ends, usually with us in the national championships, the town goes into what you could almost consider a mourning period, then a depression and then the countdown calendars come out with “Only ___ days till kickoff….” We think, eat, sleep and breathe football—365 days a year, every single year.

  Tuscaloosa on game day is especially a treat. The quad is literally covered in tents for one humungous tailgate party. The air is thick with excitement and the sweet smell of meat on the grill. Everyone cooking and drinking—they even clip satellites to their tents for their big-screen TVs. My very favorite moment of the entire season is when I’m standing in that stadium when the song “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd begins.

  So for Lewis to be missing from the Bama pulpit in Tuscaloosa—well, it was like the Pope missing from the Vatican. I knew the entire population would show up for his press conference, as well as every reporter for college football from all over the country.

  The gravity of the situation stole my breath for a minute, but Harry’s voice brought me back.

  “Hell, the entire South Eastern Conference will be sending their reporters to swarm Tuscaloosa, especially since we’re the national champions,” Harry said.

  While the reason for the press conference was a bit depressing, the thought of being on camera excited me and I suddenly felt much better.

  “Where’s it gonna be?” I asked.

  “Denny Chimes.”

  I began to picture the fiasco that was about to blow into town…and how Vivi would be in front of the mic, flanked by me and Harry on one side and Sonny on the other. As Vivi’s attorneys and Lewis’s most immediate family, Harry or I would have to be the spokesperson.

  “Vivi cannot speak on camera!” Harry was stern. “Those reporters will have a field day with her. And God only knows what she would say. Part of her would love this attention, and the other half of her will be scared to death. She’d be completely uncontrollable.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you at Mother’s,” I said, but he had already hung up.

  I laid the phone down on the marble vanity and turned on the shower. The steam began to fog the mirrors. I stepped inside. The hot, pulsating water felt good. I didn’t want to get out. I knew what this day was going to look like and I had barely been awake fifteen minutes.

  I wanted to let the water rain over me all day. I turned a couple of tired steps so the water could hit my face. I knew the day would be nearly unbearable, and none of it would feel as good as this moment. Even the thought of being on camera started to make me feel anxious, so I stood still, on purpose, avoiding the day that lay ahead.

  Then I heard it in my head. Harry’s words from last night.

&n
bsp; Lewis is alive. And someone knows where he is.

  The words jerked me right out of my serenity. What is he thinking? All of the scenarios from the ridiculous to the haunting invaded my peaceful shower. I rinsed my hair and turned off the water, leaving my oasis behind. I lost the last of my tranquility in my next thought: Does Vivi know anything about Lewis and his life that could lead us to him?

  7

  Vivi was already at Mother’s when I pulled into the driveway. Out of years of habit, I rolled directly under the old tattered basketball net, now just hanging by a thread. The redbrick back steps invited me in and the screen door creaked and slammed behind me. My heels clicked on the red-painted concrete floor of the cluttered back porch. Stacks of old newspapers and magazines were everywhere. An antique 1940s refrigerator stood in the corner. It was always filled with plenty of Coca-Cola. The minute anyone arrived, the first thing Meridee did was offer you a Coke.

  The smell of coffee drifted through the kitchen, which had butter-colored walls and a yellow-and-green vinyl floor. The 1950s yellow laminate table was already full of people, just the way Meridee liked it. This place relaxed me like an instant sedative.

  Vivi was sitting comfortably with both of her hands wrapped securely around her cup to warm them. Meridee was in her chair at the spot near the stove, holding her lipstick-stained cup with one hand while dipping a doughnut into the coffee with the other.

  Next to her was what we liked to call the “snack corner.” The snack corner was a treasure trove of deliciousness, brimming with scrumptious concoctions, mostly from the Keebler Elves and Krispy Kreme. It was my absolute most favorite place as a child and, let’s be honest, as an adult, too. But today my favorite spot was already occupied.

  “Hey, Blake, sweetie. Come give your mama a hug.”

  Yes, that was my mother, Katherine Meredith Fletcher O’Hara Sandoval Sugarman—or Kitty, as she was known to all…and, believe me, she was known to all. She could never make up her mind which man she loved, so, in true Kitty fashion she eventually married them all. Kitty was by far the loudest, bluntest and rowdiest of all the clan. Hell, she was the loudest person I knew, period. And that is saying something since Vivi and Lewis are in the group!

  Kitty looked up from her ice-cold glass of Dr Pepper and her chocolate grahams when I walked in.

  “How you doin’, baby?”

  I walked over and hugged her. Truthfully, Kitty and I are nothing alike. I keep most of my nasty thoughts to myself. Kitty must get them out in the open for all to hear the very minute she feels them. “It clears the air and lets people know the truth,” she says. “And nothing’s better than the truth.”

  “Unless it hurts people’s feelings,” I would counter, but to deaf ears.

  Kitty was an original, a one of a kind, and most who knew her would say, thank heavens. I remember when I was a teenager, Meridee would get me aside and say, “Blake, your mother is crazy. Always remember that. Whatever she says, never forget that.” And I didn’t. And Meridee was right.

  “Hey, Mama,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I just thought I’d stop by to check in on Mother and looky who I found here…Vivi Ann McFadden. Can you believe it?”

  I gave Vivi a questioning look. I didn’t want to start spreading the news about Lewis without her approval, so I wasn’t sure what to say to Kitty. All Vivi offered was a dirty look framed by dark circles and her halo of red wiry hair.

  Without stopping for an answer, Kitty continued, “So, sugar, tell me what y’all are doing here.”

  Vivi and I spoke at once, nervously overlapping our explanations.

  “Well, Mama, Vivi and I just thought we needed to catch up,” I said and Vivi continued.

  “So, we thought we would meet here for coffee.”

  And just as Vivi said that, Harry walked in fast and furious.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, brushing the water from the arms of his suit coat. “It’s raining like—” He stopped midsentence as his gaze caught Kitty in the corner. “Hey, Kitty,” he said with a confused look on his face.

  “Well, hey there, Harry, darlin’,” she said with sugar dripping from each syllable. She stepped from the corner and gave Harry a hug.

  “Oh, honey, look, now I’m all wet, too.” That woman just could not help herself. She flirted with every male who crossed her path, and she always had a double entendre going.

  Kitty loved men. And men loved her back. She was, in her time, a leggy, busty debutante. All I inherited from Kitty was her boobs, not her legs. I’m only five-three, while Kitty is a lucky five foot seven. I definitely look more like Meridee—a former beauty queen herself, but only five-one, she was a tiny blue-eyed, brunette spitfire. I have Meridee’s dark hair and blue-green eyes, deep dimples like my dad and a sassy attitude just like my Meridee. I was proud of that…that I was like her. Plus, she is awfully cute. I figure if I can look that sweet and sassy in my old age, that’s something to be pretty thankful for.

  Harry came around to me and gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “What’s she doing here?”

  I raised my eyebrows, responding with an “I have no idea” look.

  “Well, isn’t this quite the morning get-together?” Kitty announced. “Let’s all go get Egg McMuffins!”

  Meridee jumped up.

  “No, no, no,” she said. “Y’all sit right back down! I never get to cook for anybody. I’ll have eggs and sausage and grits and biscuits up here in a jiffy.” Meridee had such a look of joy on her face as she smiled, pushing Kitty out of the corner and humming “Rock of Ages” as she gathered her ingredients.

  As we all sat around the yellow table where I had spent hours and hours of my childhood, the pressure started to build. Harry, Vivi and I knew we needed to get to work on the facts. I ran things over in my mind. Best-case scenario, Lewis was only missing, and at worst dead, but none of us wanted to say anything with Kitty there.

  Clothes had washed up early this morning at the Cypress Inn and all hell was about to break loose at this press conference, which was now only three hours away. Meeting at Mother’s now seemed like the worst plan we could have made—there was no way we’d be able to discuss Lewis and the case with loudmouth Kitty ready to hear all the juicy details. The whole state would know about Lewis’s disappearance by lunchtime.

  We were awkwardly quiet, Kitty sitting at the head of the table where my grandfather used to sit, staring at all three of us with a “cat that ate the canary” grin.

  “Okay, what’er y’all up to?” she said, finally breaking the silence. “Oh, my God! Are y’all planning my birthday? Lord! Y’all are so good! It’s still over a month away. No wonder y’all are so uptight. How in the world can y’all do any plannin’ with me sittin’ here?” With that, she stood from the table. “Mother, none for me. I’ll be off now, my sugars, and y’all can keep up your whispering and your hush-hush…and I’ll just pretend I heard nothing.” She finished in a whisper as if she were keeping the secret. She kissed Meridee’s cheek and grabbed her polka-dot Kate Spade bag.

  “I guess I’ll get my Egg McMuffin, after all!” The back door slammed and she was gone. We all let out a sigh of relief, but this meeting wasn’t fixin’ to get any easier since Harry and I were mustering up the courage to tell Vivi about those clothes soaked in river water.

  I dropped my head to the table like a schoolgirl in trouble. “Sorry, y’all, I had no idea she would be here.” Meridee kept s
inging and cooking, and for once I was so happy she couldn’t hear very well anymore.

  Vivi spoke first. “Harry, what are you doing here? Blake didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  I chimed in before Harry could speak. “I talked to Harry after you called. We have some new evidence and Harry wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, the caffeine kicking in. “Not another body part?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Harry said. “But…clothes. And we don’t even know if they’re his. That’s where we thought you could help us. Do you remember what he was wearing when you last saw him?”

  “Harry, I thought we had already had this conversation,” Vivi said. “Lewis wasn’t wearing anything the last time I saw him!”

  Although none of us felt like eating, we all managed to look interested in the mountain of food that Meridee laid before us. We couldn’t refuse, so we set the table and picked at the breakfast. I needed to add a little kick to my coffee, but it was too early. But hey, as my favorite humorist, Celia Rivenbark, says, “You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the mornin’.” Sounded like a plan for today.

  Thirty minutes later, after cleaning things up, Harry said, “Meridee, that was delicious. Now, I hate to be a devil and eat and run, but I’ve got to get these girls over to the office. They promised to look over my campaign poster designs before I send them off to the printers.”

  “Don’t you worry, Harry. You do whatever you need to. I want to see you win this thing and then I want to see you on TV.”

  We walked outside and, with Vivi and me in my car and Harry in his, we all headed over to the police station.

  * * *

  The police station was across the street from the bank and where one of my favorite Tuscaloosa relics stood on the corner. The old turn-of-the-century clock was the centerpiece of downtown, black iron framed with a round white face and black hands. It had witnessed the history of Tuscaloosa unfold around it. From my earliest memories of three or four years old, I remembered the old clock standing right there, watching over all of us.