Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 08 - Wed and Buried

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  There was a line when we got to the front door. Dorcas Walters had just let in a pair of women and was turning to the man in front of her with a determinedly welcoming smile on her face. I didn’t really blame her for having to work at it. Though tattoos were hip in many circles, even in Byerly, I was pretty sure that they weren’t common with Dorcas’s friends. Besides, even folks who like tattoos don’t usually sport as many as Tattoo Bob Tyndall, the artist who plied his trade at the flea market where Aunt Maggie set up. Tattoo Bob had once told me he considered himself his best advertisement, so naturally he wore short-sleeved shirts whenever possible. I counted five visible tattoos, and knew there were more that Dorcas didn’t see—and wouldn’t want to. Here I’d been worrying about how Dorcas would deal with the Burnette family—I’d forgotten about some of the characters Aunt Maggie was friends with.

  As Tattoo Bob went inside, Dorcas turned to Richard and me with an air of relief. “Laurie Anne, Richard. I’m so glad y’all could come. Is this the little darling Burt told me about?”

  I suspected that if Dorcas had been involved in as many two-o’clock feedings as I had, she wouldn’t think our baby was so adorable, but I nodded anyway. “This is Alice.”

  Dorcas didn’t take her from me, probably in deference to the royal blue silk dress she was wearing, but she did look at her wistfully. “You’re just a little baby doll,” she said to her. “Yes, you are.” To Richard and me, she said, “Come right in. Most of your family is already here.”

  I couldn’t resist saying, “Don’t you mean our family?”

  Her smile tightened a bit around the edges. “Of course. Our family.”

  Though I was tempted to stick around to see how Dorcas would deal with the rest of the arriving Burnettes and flea market denizens, the lure of people inside was too great. After all, we had a baby to show off.

  Aunt Nora must have been watching for us, because she jumped up from her chair as soon as we walked into the living room. “Oh, my Lord,” she said as she took Alice from me, “she’s as pretty as an angel!”

  I leaned over, meaning to hug Aunt Nora’s neck, but Aunt Nora pulled away to yell, “Daphine! Nellie! Ruby Lee! Edna! The baby’s here!”

  I looked at Richard, who raised an eyebrow. “Do you suppose she’s even noticed we’re here, too?” I asked.

  “Maybe she thinks Alice flew in on angel’s wings,” he suggested.

  Seconds later, the rest of my mother’s sisters arrived, all cooing and chirping. Richard and I were pushed out of the circle completely, but could tell that Alice didn’t mind the attention. Maybe she knew they were all family, even if the sisters were all so different.

  Aunt Nora has a figure I’ve always thought of as matronly. Not really fat, but definitely thicker in places than she used to be. At least her hair was the same color as always, thanks to Clairol.

  Aunt Daphine also owed her dark hair to judicious application of color, but didn’t resemble Aunt Nora in any other way. She was tall and thin, with well-defined cheekbones and brows.

  Aunt Ruby Lee’s hair is reputed to be glossy blond naturally, and her blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, and generous curves made her look like a replica of Dolly Parton done to actual human scale.

  Aunt Edna was slender, and her eyes and hair were all nice enough, but it wasn’t her looks that made her memorable. It was her wit and the way she moved that reminded everybody of the spitfire she was as a girl.

  Aunt Nellie, the tallest of them, was a study in contrasts. Her hair was nearly black, her skin quite fair. Tonight she was wearing her trademark color of peacock blue in a striking pantsuit, with big hoop earrings.

  “Hey there,” I said, but my aunts kept on admiring Alice as if I hadn’t spoken. “Hello?”

  “You said you wanted to show her off,” Richard reminded me. “Why don’t we go enjoy the party? We can pick up Alice when it’s time to go.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said, but it was starting to look as if we really could leave without being noticed, when Aunt Daphine finally glanced our way. She’d only had one child herself, so maybe she wasn’t as baby crazy as the others. Goodness knows that if I ever gave birth to a daughter like my cousin Vasti, I’d be leery of babies.

  Aunt Daphine said, “Hey there, little mama,” and gave my neck a hug. “And hello to the new daddy, too,” she added, hugging Richard. “Will she be calling you that? I don’t know what folks in Massachusetts call their daddies.”

  “So far we haven’t even gotten a ‘Da-da’ out of her, so it’s still a moot point,” Richard said.

  We laughed, but I’d already decided that what Alice called me was not a moot point. I’d called my mother Mama, and she’d called her mother Mama, and so on. Alice was going to call me Mama, even if she had to say it with a Boston accent.

  Aunt Daphine chatted with us a little longer, but I could tell she was dying for a chance to hold Alice; so I told her she could go ahead and get in line while Richard and I hunted up something to drink.

  It didn’t take much hunting. Tables with soft drinks, wine, beer, and iced tea had been set up in several corners around the bottom floor of the house, and there was plenty of food around, too, from finger food to serious munchies on a long buffet table. I had to admit that Vasti knew how to throw a party—I almost regretted eating that fried chicken.

  The decorations were nicely understated, too. Since Vasti isn’t known for her subtlety, I’d expected her to festoon the place with tissue-paper wedding bells and such, but maybe she’d decided that the Walterses’ rich furnishings were impressive enough. She’d settled for placing flower arrangements designed to look like bridal bouquets here and there, and the buffet table featured a four-tier wedding cake draped with luscious pink icing flowers.

  It was next to the buffet table that I spotted my cousin in heated conversation with Miz Duffield.

  Vasti was saying, “You were supposed to rent glass plates and cups, not use paper.”

  Miz Duffield sniffed. “I thought paper would be more appropriate.” She looked pointedly at my cousin Linwood, who was noisily sucking the filling from a celery straw. “Besides, all the available rental items had already been reserved. Most affairs of this style are planned months in advance.”

  Vasti sniffed back at her. “Some of us don’t need that long to plan a nice party. I mean, affair. And what about the band? I told you to leave room for the Ramblers to set up, and you’ve got a bunch of old guys with violins in their corner.”

  “Those ‘old guys’ are the area’s finest string quartet. Mrs. Walters—Mrs. Dorcas Walters—is particularly fond of string quartets. She prefers not to drown out the conversation of her guests with raucous music. Though in this case…” She looked over at Linwood again, who was loudly telling a raunchy joke about a preacher and a traveling salesman to some of my other cousins. “We’ve never had the kind of ‘music’ you’re talking about.”

  “That’s because I’ve never been in charge before. I am now, and I say that the Ramblers are going to play here tonight. Roger is part of the family, after all.” The look she gave Miz Duffield emphasized that she was not.

  Miz Duffield drew herself up to her full height. “In the Walters home…”

  Big Bill appeared next to them, looking particularly genial. “Ladies, what’s the problem?”

  “Just a disagreement over the arrangements, Mr. Big Bill,” Miz Duffield said smoothly. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

  “Is that right, Vasti?” Big Bill said.

  “Apparently, your maid here doesn’t think Roger’s Ramblers are good enough to play for the party.”

  “I said no such thing. I merely pointed out that in the past, we’ve—”

  “Things change, Irene. Do what Vasti says.”

  “But Mr. Big Bill—” She visibly stopped herself. “Yes, sir. However, I’m concerned about the champagne Mrs. Bumgarner selected for your toast. It’s not the label we’ve used before, and I know how particular you are about your champagne. If y
ou like, I can get a case of the correct label delivered right away.”

  “I’m sure Vasti’s champagne will be fine,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. Then he smiled again, took a tiny quiche from the buffet table, and wandered away.

  Vasti looked smug, but poor Miz Duffield looked as if she was going to cry. So I popped up with, “Why don’t y’all use both bands? The quartet can stay where they are, and the Ramblers can set up somewhere else.”

  “Where?” Vasti demanded.

  “Isn’t there a gazebo out on the grounds? There’d be a whole lot more room for dancing out there.” Vasti looked stubborn, so I added, “On a nice night like this, folks will be able to hear the music for miles around.”

  I hoped Vasti would go for the idea of letting the few people who hadn’t been invited know exactly what they were missing. “All right,” she said. “Set it up that way, Irene.” She turned her back on the woman so she could give Richard and me quick hugs, asked a couple of perfunctory questions about Alice, and pasted on her party smile so she could go greet some of the people she wanted to impress.

  I turned to Miz Duffield. “I’m afraid this marriage is going to mean a lot of adjustments for both sides of the family.”

  “Clearly,” Miz Duffield said. “I am glad to see that some members of the Burnette family were brought up properly.” She walked away as stiffly as if she had had a broomstick tied to her spine.

  “I’m not too well brought up to smack somebody who insults my family,” I said to Richard.

  “Laura,” Richard said, “be nice.”

  “Hey, I fixed it so she could keep her string quartet, didn’t I? It’s bad enough that the Walterses have looked down on us Burnettes for years, but to have a servant do it gripes the tar out of me.”

  “Now who’s being a snob?”

  I stopped. “You’re right, that was uncalled-for. Miz Duffield would irritate me no matter what she did for a living.”

  We finally got our drinks—iced tea for me and Coke for Richard—then went to retrieve Alice. I’d like to pretend that she’d missed us, but in fact she was having a grand time being made much of. So we went in search of others who would admire her. We hadn’t gone far when my cousin Thaddeous’s fiancée found us.

  “Laura!” Michelle squealed, and gave me a loud smack on the cheek. “Or should I call you Laurie Anne, since I’m a bona fide Southerner now.”

  Michelle, with her olive skin, jet black hair, and Boston accent, was about as likely to be mistaken for a native Southerner as I was to be taken for a French poodle. But ever since she’d moved to Byerly to be closer to Thaddeous, she’d thrown herself into Southern life with a vengeance. I’d heard her refer to the Civil War as the War Between the States, and she claimed to have come up with a recipe for grits with marinara sauce.

  “Let me see that baby!” she said, taking Alice out of my hands. “She looks just like you.”

  I thought I heard a muffled sigh from Richard, so once again, I pointed out that Alice’s head was shaped like his. Michelle nodded politely but clearly had no idea what I was talking about.

  “So tell me everything about being a mother. Is she sleeping through the night? Are you exhausted? You are nursing her, aren’t you? Have you started her on solid foods yet?”

  “Not yet, yes, yes, and yes,” I said, counting them off on my fingers. “You know, I think I ought to get a T-shirt printed with the answers to the standard questions.”

  Michelle dimpled. “I know, everybody must be asking you the same things over and over again.” She pinched Alice’s chubby cheek gently, and while Alice looked confused, at least she didn’t cry. “I shouldn’t do that. I used to hate it when my aunts and uncles pinched my cheek, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I find myself making raspberries on her tummy, myself.”

  “What about you, Richard?” Michelle asked. “What family traditions do you inflict on your poor child?”

  “We don’t really have any traditions like that,” Richard said.

  “Oh yeah?” I said. “What about—?”

  “Look, there’s Augustus and Willis. I think I’ll go say hello.” He beat a hasty retreat.

  “All right, what does he do?” Michelle had to know.

  “He talks baby talk.”

  “So what? Everybody talks baby talk.”

  “Yeah, but Richard quotes Shakespeare in baby talk.”

  She burst out laughing. “You are kidding me.”

  “I swear. He stops if he hears me coming, but I’m going to hide a tape recorder one of these days and catch him at it.”

  We spent a few minutes more extolling Alice’s many virtues, and then moved on to office gossip. Michelle had been the receptionist at my company before Thaddeous lured her to Byerly, and even though I was on maternity leave, I had news that was current enough to satisfy her.

  Then I asked, “What about the mill? Anything juicy going on there?” With a little family help, Michelle had landed the plum job of secretary to Burt Walters. “How is Burt to work for?”

  “Not bad, once I got him straight on a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that I’m engaged, and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t mess around with him.”

  “He made a pass at you?”

  She shrugged in a very Italian way. “Please, he makes passes at everybody. Which I used to think was because of what a cold fish his wife is, but now…”

  There was no way I could resist an opening like that. “But now?”

  “Now I’ve got to wonder if maybe he wasn’t just making passes at women to hide what he’s really interested in.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I think Burt has lace on his drawers, as Thaddeous would say.”

  “You think Burt Walters is gay!” I said in astonishment.

  “Shhh! Keep your voice down!”

  We looked around, but as far as we could tell, nobody had heard my outburst.

  “Come on, Michelle, he’s been married for years, and he always chased women like crazy. Including my mother, as a matter of fact.”

  “As if no man ever covered up that way. Not to mention the guys who don’t want to be gay, so they work so hard at being straight that they go after anything in a skirt.”

  “Sure, that happens,” I acknowledged. “But Burt? Why on earth do you think he’s gay?”

  “If you saw his new protégé, you wouldn’t ask. About three months ago, Burt hires this guy young enough to be his son. Good-looking, too—half the single girls at the mill are in lust with him. Anyway, Burt takes a personal interest in him and starts telling him all about running the mill. He takes him to lunch all the time, and some folks have seen them together after working hours.”

  “Really?”

  “Now, I don’t ask any questions about things that aren’t part of my job—”

  “Of course not,” I said, even though I knew darned well that Michelle took every possible opportunity to find out what went on in the places she worked.

  “But I do ask why it is Mike—that’s his name, Mike—I ask Burt what I’m supposed to tell people who wonder why Mike isn’t working his way through the ranks like anybody else. And Burt tells me that Mike is too smart to waste his time that way. That he’s Mike’s mentor, and he’s training him to take over the mill. Which has all the other managers ready to go ballistic. Some of them have been there forever, going up one step at a time, and the idea of Mike bypassing them is making them crazy. Tavis is running himself into the ground trying to keep everybody happy.”

  “Tavis?” Tavis Montgomery was Burt’s second in command, and his ambition was well known. “I’m surprised he’s not as mad as everybody else.”

  “Oh, he was furious, but it didn’t take him long to realize that there’s nothing he can do about it. So now he’s pretending everything is okay, and hoping Mike screws up badly enough for Burt to get rid of him. Then he can get his old place at the conference table
back.”

  “Does Dorcas know?”

  “Of course she knows—she’s not blind!”

  “Has she said anything? Or done anything?”

  “Her? Of course not. But listen, have you ever seen Dorcas Walters at the mill?”

  “Never.”

  “That’s right. A society woman like her has more important things to do. But a few weeks after Mike started at the mill, here comes Dorcas, wanting Burt to take her to lunch. She started showing up at quitting time to remind him of their plans for the evening, and one time she even came during coffee break to bring him fresh donuts. And dressed to the nines every time. A new hairstyle, too, and I think she’s lost ten pounds.”

  “Poor Dorcas,” I said.

  “It’s a waste of time, anyway. How can any woman compete with a guy? Let alone a guy so much younger than she is?”

  “Do you think Burt is going to leave her? Or that she’ll ask for a divorce?”

  “Who knows? Burt doesn’t need to do anything—he’s getting it both ways, if you know what I mean, so why rock the boat? And Dorcas is so big on being Mrs. Burt Walters that it’s going to take a lot to get her to give that up. Me, I’d dump him out on his ear. I’ve got nothing against gays, but I’m not going to waste my time playing camouflage for anybody. Not that I’ve got anything to worry about with Thaddeous.”

  “Not hardly,” I said. Thaddeous was so much in love with Michelle that his feet had barely touched the ground since she moved to town. So it was no big surprise that he happened to come by right then, and conversation turned back to how wonderful Alice was. From the gleam in his eyes when he watched Michelle cradling her, I had a hunch that marriage and babies would be in the very near future for those two.

  While Michelle and Thaddeous played peek-a-boo with Alice, I speculated on whether or not Burt’s newfound leanings had anything to do with the attempts on Big Bill’s life. Did Big Bill know about Mike? Would he accept it if he did know, or would he disinherit Burt? I hadn’t been able to picture Burt committing murder just to get his money a little sooner, but it was a different story if Burt was worried about losing everything.