I looked at the short pencil stub. What if I had to erase, there wasn’t an eraser on the pencil?
“No computer.”
She acted unsurprised by my answer. “Take your time. This isn’t a marathon.”
“Huh-uh.” I backed up, putting the manual under my arm.
“Don’t use the manual.”
She must be a mind reader. “Okay. Right.”
The counter was too tall or I’m too short and I sat my purse on the counter. The manual stuck from its side pocket. I stared hard absorbing the little book's contents hoping it'd pour miraculously into my brain. If there was a time to use psychic abilities, it was now.
Ten seconds later, fueled by smarts flying in the air, I answered ten questions.
I got this.
An armed guard walked behind me, looking over my shoulder. He huffed seeing the manual, but he didn’t arrest me for having it.
I’ve heard stories about the wild Arizona west. Tombstone. Okay Corral. The Lost Dutchman’s Mine. But no one told me how scary taking the driver’s test would be.
My hands shimmied because I had two big problems. If I failed—Philly’s glee would irk me to no end and I would need to study the manual. Those first few pages were boring, I wouldn’t make it the juicy parts.
Finished in no time, I went back to the window. The woman looked up. “You gotta take another number.” She fluttered her eyelids, flaring her nostrils at the number machine.
I took another number and perched on the edge of my chair. I rubbed my arms—freezing to death in hell. I haven’t been this cold since Philly took me on that romantic dinner cruise on the Bay. Sure, hope I don’t puke in the DMV.
She called my number, and I hopped over to her window, pushing my sheet into the slot at the bottom of the bulletproof glass. “Here you go.”
She slithered it through the slot, glanced at it and got up, disappearing around the corner of her cubical.
My hot breath fogged the glass. A few moments later, she came back, sat in her chair and ripped my test in two. “What the. Why’d—” My mouth flopped open.
“You checked the answers. The reader can’t read checks. You must retake the test.”
I rolled the pencil stub into the metal tray and swore under my breath.
“Read the manual. You can’t X out mistakes. The computer reader sees X’s as a fail. Try again in a few weeks. The computer is easier.”
I sat on the concrete bench outside the department. Wayne eased the truck up on the passenger side. Philly looked out the window, chuckling. “I told you, you’d fail.”
Chapter Thirty
Dan’s Memorial
Wayne and Philly emptied Home Depot’s shelves, not literally, but they filled the back of the truck to the brim and then some. They unloaded building supplies galore, and I made a fresh pitcher of sweet iced tea. After the driver’s license fiasco, I had more than the bad taste of Elmer’s terrible tea in my mouth.
Outside the kitchen window, the boys cussed and stood aside to smoke. Philly got two beers from the ice chest—right neighborly to give Wayne a beer—since we were using his truck. I watched them while I poured boiling water—no time to wait for the sun—over tea bags and stirred in enough sugar to create syrupy goodness.
I opened the freezer. No dadgum ice. It’s always something.
Too bad I hadn’t gone to Home Depot and bought a new fridge with ice in the door.
From outside, Philly yelled, “Going to get ice.”
Problem solved. He’s such a wonderful husband.
“Get a bag for tea.” I yelled back through the window’s thin glass.
Wayne’s truck roared to life and exhaust blew into the carport.
In the bathroom I smoothed my hair and dotted lipstick on my lips for my date with Gale and Lulu. I had time to kill but nothing to do. Time to tidy up. I straightened the bedcovers and fluffed our pillows. I’m not a regular napper, but these long days were wearing on me. The bed called my name and sucked me into its luscious softness.
The boys came back and knocked around underneath the carport. Philly came inside and put a bag of ice in the freezer.
I couldn’t move. I felt him look in the bedroom, but he didn’t pester me.
Sometime later I popped up—it was too quiet—thinking I was late for my meeting. Again, I smoothed my bed head and hurried out onto the veranda.
Philly sat dozing in the shade. Spending money at the Depot relaxes him and with his mouth flopped open, he looked peaceful enough.
I didn’t want to wake him, but I was ninety-nine percent positive the keys to the golf cart were in his pocket.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie Bastard.”
“Hey, you.” His eyes opened, and he put his hand over mine. “There you are. Quiet ain’t it.”
“I got that meeting, remember?”
“Yeah, sure.” He rustled awake. “Hang on a sec, I got you something.”
“Yeah, what is it?”
He grabbed a white bag beside his chair and held it up.
I didn’t need anymore surprises, even ones small enough to fit into that bag.
“By the way, Gale told me to tell you she forgot about Dan’s memorial. It’s at five today. She’s canceling your plan to come to her house to talk to Lulu about Wanda’s murder.”
“Really?” See using his phone was a mistake.
“She called while me and Wayne were in the lumber department at Home Depot.”
“She did?”
Delayed by a funeral, you might know and at this rate, I would never uncover what happened to Wanda.
Madonna hollered from her veranda. “Hey y’all.” Hey y’all sounded odd coming from her. She didn’t twang the ah in y’all properly.
“Are you going to Dan’s memorial? I’ve been looking for you all afternoon.” She dressed in black slacks and a silky chartreuse blouse, an ensemble entirely too hot for Arizona.
I’d need to change into proper funeral attire.
“It’s at the chapel.” She shaded her eyes. “Ann’s going. I thought...”
Philly hollered. “She’d love too. You driving? She failed her driver’s test.”
I hissed. “Stop that, Sweetie Bastard. That is nobody’s business.”
He chuckled and Madonna giggled. “Sure. She’d get lost, anyway.”
I kicked at Philly’s shin and he dodged my kick. “You get that TomTom out. I can attach it to the golf cart.” I sat in the chair beside him, relieved of the duty of driving.
“Not until you pass your test.” He sat a white shopping bag on my lap.
He yelled at Madonna. “She’ll be ready to go soon.”
“Sure thing.” She went back inside and snapped her door shut.
“What’s this?” I recognized the plain white shopping bag, it shouted technology. A huge willie climbed my spine, knowing I wouldn’t want what was in the telltale bag.
“Wayne suggested I get you a housewarming gift.” I wouldn’t take Wayne for a gift giving fellow or for suggesting such a thing. It must’ve been Alice’s idea. She told Wayne to tell Philly I needed to be brought into this century. Alice is a darling Texas gal, and already a good friend, but I’ll pay her back for this housewarming gift. I don’t know with what, but I’ll think of something.
I peeked over the top of the bag. Inside the bag sat a white rectangular cell phone box. “Pfft. Our house is warm enough already.” I sat the bag back on his lap.
He put it back on my lap. “Not so fast. You’re gonna love it.”
“I got to get ready.” Dressed like a dust mop wouldn’t be proper memorial attire.
I can change my plans on a dime. I would take the wedding album to the memorial and tackle Lulu during coffee and cookies after the service.
What’s the use in going to memorial if you can’t sit and gossip about the other memorial attendees? Wanda might be there in person; her spirit was alive and roaming. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d made an appearance wearin
g her snaky boa over her ginormous boobs.
That was if someone else saw her.
I glared at Philly. Sometimes he looked so innocent, but in Wanda’s case, I didn’t trust him. He opened the door and welcomed her ghost into our home. He had to be pulling my leg about not remembering her appearance.
“Open it.” Philly squeezed my shoulders.
“This better be diamonds.” I knew better. I don’t do water; he doesn’t do diamonds.
“It cost as much as a small island.” He grinned, pleased with himself.
I reached into the small bag which wasn’t big enough to hold a small island and pulled out the white phone box.
“Oh Philly. You shouldn’t have... seriously no. Where d'you get this?”
“There’s a T-Mobile store across from Home Depot. We went in there before we picked you up. You won’t need the TomTom. It’s got Google Maps, and it talks to you.”
A small island would’ve been better, it wouldn’t talk to me.
I dreaded learning how to use a cell phone. I remember when Mama got a standup Sunbeam mixer. She was so nervous; I had to put the beaters in the holes for her. By the end of the next week, she was whipping up cakes faster than Betty Crocker.
“I thought it was a gift for passing my driver’s test.”
“It still can be that. You’ll pass—eventually.” He jabbed, and I winced at his eventually remark. “I hope they set the learning curve low. I can limbo better than I can work a phone. You shoulda asked me first.”
“I can’t be your answering machine. I got things to do.” He pointed at the building supplies.
“And people to see.”
Smart move, buying me a cell phone. He won’t be privy to my future secrets and possible trysts.
“I added you to my plan. We’re friends and family now.”
“Oh Philly. You read my mind.” I kissed the phone box. “I’ve always loved your family.”
His mama was the worst housekeeper this side of Fort Worth. I had to clean before I could cook Sunday dinner at her house. We didn’t visit his family often, but that often was always too soon.
“Go on. Git. You got a funeral to attend.”
“Oh, you.” I stood up and pinched his cheeks. “You’re my darlin’ man. I adore the phone.” Adore might be a stretch, but I let that stand. He puckered for a smooch, and I let him have a juicy one. He didn’t like slobbery kisses, so I had to get one while I could. He wiped off the kiss with the back of his hand, and I let that go, too.
“I gotta changes clothes.”
“Sure, I also ordered you the bells and whistles.”
With the phone bag in one hand and the other the doorknob, bells and whistles made my turkey neck waggle. “What’s that?”
“Samsung. Top of the line. No fingerprints finish. Ice and water in the door.”
“Sweetie Bastard, you didn’t?”
He fished a cold beer from the ice chest at his side. “It’ll be here a week from Saturday. I hope it fits.”
Visions of ice and cold water flowing from a shiny new fridge popped into the gray matter, only muddled by seeing the Samsun parked next to my Sleep Number in the storage unit. I haven’t been to the storage unit yet, but I don’t imagine it was homey as the park model.
That’s a disparaging thought.
“Me too, Sweetie Bastard, me too.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Chapel
Every kind of funeral food imaginable lined the tables in the chapel’s community room. The church sign said nondenominational. Guess they accept heathens like me. I should’ve talked Philly into coming; he could have eaten supper with the other funeral goers.
“I knew everyone would be here,” Ann said, squeezing into a pew in the back. We arrived at the Oasis Chapel to find it filled to the brim. Dan might have been a philanderer, but he drew a good crowd, even the men.
I scanned heads looking for Gale, but didn’t find her. Earlier when I changed clothes, I found a heavy-duty Trader Joe shopping bag and put the wedding album into it.
As I scooted along the pew, Madonna asked. “Good Lord, Bunny? What’s in that Trader Joe’s shopping bag?”
“What?” I asked, pushing it underneath the pew with my foot. The brightly colored bag had images of surfboards, hibiscus flowers and a cartoon happy sun. “Is it too loud?”
“Never mind,” she said, rolling her eyes.
A woman turned from the pew ahead of us. “Who is this?” Point blank nosiness asking who is this was rude in my book, but then this was the Oasis.
“Milly, this is Bunny. She moved in across from my place. Into Wanda’s house.” Madonna lifted a brow. She and Milly shared a look, which I took to mean they felt sorry for me. I scooted the Trader Joe’s bag deeper underneath the pew so Milly wouldn’t ask about it.
“Nice to meet you,” I whispered.
Up front, a pianist touched the ivories, and the crowd hustled into a whispering shuffle settling down.
A man stopped at the end of our pew and pointed. I scooted over, so everyone else had to too. He squeezed in beside me. We nodded niceties, and I noted how nice he smelled for a funeral.
He stuck out his hand. “I’m Edward. You’re new, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered, putting a finger to my lips.
“You single?” he asked in a hushed tone.
Ann looked around me and gave him a scowl. “Eddie, stop that.”
“No sweetie, I’m not.” She scowled, and I inched closer to her. Adding him to the pew packed us in hip and elbow too tight. Cutie pie Eddie and I adjusted getting comfortable together.
Maybe I should get his number. Philly could croak. Having a backup plan might be a good idea. From the looks of this crowd, women outnumber men three to one. I could get first dibs on Edward.
A basket of dusty fake gladiolas sat on a white pedestal in front of the pulpit.
Hmm, no casket? Dan was missing in action. Not surprising. In Texas, they would have filled this chapel with enough carnations and peace plants to fill the city dump. Guess it’s too hot for real flowers in Tucson.
“Did they cremate him?” I whispered into Ann’s ear. She nodded, frowning a be quiet look.
I’ve seen that look before. In church, I’d get bored and would fidget, wiggling and doing fun things like making spit wads from the Sunday bulletin. She’d pinch the back of my arm, enough to leave a mark, but hard enough set my mind straight. I was a skilled wiggler, especially in boring old church. I am Freddy Warren’s daughter, and he swayed my opinion of preachers, Sunday School teachers and choir directors, which made me a poor candidate for missionary work.
Back to the cremation theory, if Dan was cremated, who would claim his ashes?
I doubt Madonna wanted his ashes to set beside Bud’s. Yonna might not be available. She’ll either be locked up for killing Dan or taking a long stay at a quiet facility where there were no exercise weights or swimming pools. What Philly would think about me drawing a straw to take Dan’s ashes? If his urn was decorative enough, it could be a nice conversation piece or at least an ice breaker. Would his urn go well with the new tiles in the Arizona room? I would want to see his urn before I bought the tiles, wouldn’t I?
Although, if I had Wanda’s ashes, assuming they cremated her, I could mix her and Dan together and have their ashes blown into an ornate glass piece and donate it to the Oasis’ office complex foyer. Amelia could point out its stylish and thoughtful creativity during her tour of the place. Of course, my name would be on a plaque on the piece’s base as the donor.
Madonna bumped my shoulder, and I snapped from my daze.
“Was I snoring?”
“Almost. Pay attention.”
Gale stepped up to the podium dressed in a robe. The Alaskan bush pilot who had an affair with Walter Cronkite was also a minister? She’s a forgetful enigma, just like me. I should buy her a paper calendar so she won’t forget when she’s preaching at a funeral. Or maybe she couldn’t remember w
here she put her calendar. It’s a forgivable slight.
Dressed in a black choir/preacher’s robe she looked downright devout.
I leaned into Madonna’s shoulder and didn’t whisper. “She’s a preacher?”
“Shush,” she said pressing a finger to her lips.
Every minute in the Oasis surprises the daylights out of me. Now I wished I hadn’t lied to her so much when I first met her. She seemly awfully interested in my psychic inabilities. Maybe she’s planning an exorcism. I hate to tell her, others have suggested I needed to have the devil beat out of me and so far, no one has cured my insatiable cantankerous nature.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to honor our fallen member.”
Dan was a fallen member? That figure of a speech brought up several lines of thought, but I won’t elaborate.
“Dan was beloved, but more importantly he loved.”
Oh, good grief. Was Gale one of his consorts? I mean she doesn’t seem his type. Not his type-type... not voluptuous Wanda or a buff Yonna... more matronly... okay I won’t go there either.
Ann and Madonna focused on Gale’s droning rendition of Dan’s short, but romantic life. Across the chapel, attendees fanned themselves with Jesus fans—now I know where my fan came from—Gale slipped by and put it on the veranda.
The chapel heated good. Sweat trickled down my crack. Gale continued to drone her message, and like any other church service I’ve attended, I zoned out, daydreaming about buying Mexican tiles in Nogales.
While Philly and I drove out to the Oasis, even though we had his TomTom, I had a backup Rand McNally road map book. With men and technology, it’s good to have a backup plan. Philly drove, and I familiarized myself with Arizona’s layout. Historical towns dotted the state, and although out of the way, I put Tombstone top on my list of favorite new places to visit. I can be adventurous occasionally.
A guided tour would be nice. One of those busloads of old people to tour the infamous OK Corral. Fun? Maybe. I’ll put it in the suggestion box. Where is the Oasis suggestion box?
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