Little Bitty Lies

by Mary Kay Andrews

  Eula took another swallow of tea, then set her fork on the edge of her plate, clearly horrified at Mary Bliss’s seeming hysteria.

  Mary Bliss finally got up and went into Eula’s private bathroom, which she had just finished mopping. When she had peed and washed her hands and blew her nose, she came back out.

  “Sorry,” she said, emerging a few minutes later. She managed to stifle one last snigger.

  “There is something bad wrong with you, girl,” Eula said.

  “Yes,” Mary Bliss readily agreed. “You’re right, Meemaw. There is something bad wrong with me. I’m at the end of my rope. I’m here, asking you for help. If not for me, for Erin. You do love Erin, don’t you?”

  “What kind of fool question is that?” Eula snapped.

  Mary Bliss dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Will you at least loan me the money for Erin’s tuition?” she asked. “It would be a loan. I’d pay you back.”

  Eula stabbed at the pie with her fork, smearing the creamy yellow filling all over the plate.

  “I’m an old lady,” she said, not looking up. “I’m old, and I’m sick. I’m not sleeping well. My chest hurts. My only child has gone. But you, you’re young, Mary Bliss. You’re healthy. And you’ve got your child at home with you. You’ll manage. I always did.”

  “I see,” Mary Bliss said. So that was it. The metallic taste was back in her mouth again. She wanted to gargle with some of that disinfectant, to make it go away. She picked up her basket and left Eula’s room.

  She stopped in the visitor’s rest room in the nursing home lobby to change into her work clothes. As she was about to leave, Anissa stopped her.

  “How did she seem to you?” Anissa asked, concern on her face. “Any better, did you think?”

  Mary Bliss had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud again. Once she started, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop. She took a deep breath. “No better, no worse. Eula McGowan never changes.”

  22

  Imogene Peabody seemed surprised to see Mary Bliss.

  “Oh,” she said, looking down the rim of her half-glasses. “You came back.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mary Bliss said, lifting her chin.

  Meemaw wasn’t going to give her a dime, she knew now. Had probably known it deep down all along. Nobody else could, or would, help her out of her predicament. She thought of the story-book she’d read to Erin every night when she was still lap-sized. The Little Red Hen. Nobody would help the little red hen feed her chicks. Not the rooster, who was long gone. Not the cow, not the pig, not the sheep…nobody.

  “All right,” Mary Bliss told herself. “I’ll be like the little red hen. I’ll just do it my own self.”

  Ms. Peabody scanned the clipboard on her desk. “Your first day didn’t go too well, did it?”

  “It was a disaster,” Mary Bliss said.

  “You’re on station G today. Produce department. You’re off at nine tonight.”

  “All right,” Mary Bliss said. She tied the strings of her blue apron and straightened the bill of her baseball cap. “I brought my own gloves today,” she said, pulling them from the pocket of her jeans.

  “Swell,” Ms. Peabody drawled.

  Mary Bliss turned to leave the cubicle, all set to plant the wheat and harvest and grind it and bake it into bread all by her own self. And take care of her chick. All by her own self.

  “Ms. McGowan?”

  Mary Bliss stopped thinking about wheat. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Bargain Bonanza has decided to immediately discontinue the sale of Mrs. Korey’s Kod Kakes.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Consumer feedback.” Was that a glint of amusement in Ms. Peabody’s eyes?

  “Virtually everyone who bought that product yesterday returned it to the store this morning. It wasn’t very pretty, I can tell you. Cases and cases of the stuff, and naturally, the Kakes had started defrosting. We had to disinfect the consumer service area, and then truck the remaining Kod Kakes out of the store.”

  “My goodness,” Mary Bliss said. She was starting to feel a little better. “Can I ask what you did with all those fish sticks?”

  Ms. Peabody’s lip twitched slightly. “It’s supposed to be highly confidential. But, since you were involved, I guess I can tell you. Half the product went to the Clayton County Animal Shelter.”

  Mary Bliss shuddered, thinking about all those helpless puppies and kittens, subjected to Mrs. Korey’s Kod Kakes. “And the other half?” she asked.

  “Do you know anyone in New Jersey?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Let’s just say there’s a certain toxic waste dump outside Trenton that’s going to require quite a bit of backfill in the near future.”

  Mary Bliss’s feet felt lighter as she sped toward the produce department. Maybe her career as a product demonstration hostess wasn’t doomed after all.

  Station G was another card table, covered with a green plastic tablecloth. Big tubs of cream-covered stuff were stacked in the cooler beside the station, and Art, the man she’d met the day before, was emptying bags of baby carrots and celery sticks into a tiered plastic tray on the table.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Art boomed when he saw Mary Bliss. “You came back.”

  “Yes,” Mary Bliss said. “Did you hear about the Kod Kakes?”

  “Shhh,” Art said, putting a finger to his lips. “What Kod Kakes?”

  “Right,” Mary Bliss said. She could take a hint. “What are we demonstrating today?”

  “Zippee Dip!” Art said joyously. “It’s great stuff. Wonderful. Low-fat. Low-calorie. A tasty addition to any healthy snack.”

  He showed her how to use a funnel to pour the dip from the half-gallon tubs into little fluted paper cups, and instructed her to let shoppers take a handful of carrots and celery to dip into their own individual cups of Zippee Dip.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just put the dip in a big bowl and let people help themselves?” Mary Bliss asked, eyeing the mess Art had made on the tabletop. Glops of Zippee Dip spotted the table and the floor around station G. Art’s thick-lensed glasses were spattered and his blue apron was streaked with the stuff.

  “Good God, woman!” Art said. “Everybody dipping into one communal bowl? Haven’t you completed your hostess hygiene class? Think of the implications.”

  After Art had gone, Mary Bliss did her best to clean up the area with the paper towels she found stashed under her card table. During a lull in business, she surreptitiously tasted the Zippee Dip. It had a vaguely sour-cream-and-chives taste. Nothing like delicious, Mary Bliss decided, but nowhere near as aggressively nasty as the Kod Kakes.

  For hours and hours she poured dip, pushed carrots and celery, and cheerfully handed out coupons to the shoppers who ebbed and flowed through the produce department. Slowly, the cooler beside her emptied, and each time she saw a shopper add a tub of Zippee Dip to their cart, she felt a little zing, heard the ka-ching of money in the bank. Jeff Robertson still hadn’t told her what her quota was, but she was positive she was close to meeting or surpassing it.

  She was funneling dip into the paper cups when she felt a presence beside her. She looked up and almost dropped the tub.

  “Randy!” she said. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Bargain hunting,” Randy Bowden said, gesturing toward a cart filled with food. “These grand opening specials are pretty good. And you know how it is with teenagers. They never stop eating. So what are you doing down here, Mary Bliss?”

  “Oh, just keeping myself busy,” she said, trying to sound happy and carefree. “Parker’s out of town on a consulting job for most of the summer, so I thought a little part-time job would keep me from getting bored.”

  She could feel her face burning with shame and wondered if he really believed she was only working as a lark. And how must she look, with that goofy baseball cap and apron, not to mention the elbow-length rubber gloves?

  “Careful,�
� he said, steadying her hand with his. “You’re spilling.”

  A lavalike puddle of dip was spreading over the card table. She busied herself mopping it up, to hide her embarrassment at having her cover blown.

  He stuck a finger into one of the paper cups. “Zippee Dip, huh? Is it any good?”

  “It’s not bad,” Mary Bliss said. “Try it with a carrot.”

  Randy took a baby carrot and plunged it into a cup of dip. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully.

  He was not really so pathetic, Mary Bliss thought, watching him eat. He had nice brown eyes, and the glasses made him look intelligent. His hair had been trimmed since the last time she’d seen him, and he’d gotten some sun, so he didn’t look as pale or needy. He was dressed in a good summer-weight suit, not the baggy shorts and T-shirts she usually saw him wearing around the neighborhood. He looked like a handsome young banker. No sign of divorce cooties.

  And she looked like a loser, Mary Bliss thought.

  Randy took another carrot and dipped it in his cup. “I like it,” he decided. “And anything that will get Josh to eat a vegetable has got to be a good thing, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I guess girls are different from boys. Erin loves vegetables. Especially carrots. I’m going to buy some for her before I leave tonight.”

  “Then I’ll do the same,” Randy said. He took two tubs out of her cooler. “Do you get a commission or something, if I buy more?”

  “No,” she said. “But it helps me make my sales quota.”

  “Anything to help the cause,” he said, laughing. And he added another tub of Zippee Dip to his cart. And another.

  “What time do you get off?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

  She checked her wristwatch. “Another half an hour, thank God. I wore comfortable shoes today, but my feet are still about shot.”

  “I’m just about done shopping, myself,” Randy said. “Want to get some dinner, after you get off?”

  “Dinner?” Was he asking her for a date?

  Two little pink spots appeared on Randy’s cheeks. They were actually quite appealing. “That’d be all right, wouldn’t it? I mean, Parker wouldn’t care if we had dinner together, would he? Just two neighbors sharing a meal, right?”

  She considered it. Erin wasn’t speaking to her. God knew she was getting tired of eating by herself.

  “What about Nancye?” she asked. “What would she think?”

  “Good question,” Randy asked. “Knowing Nancye, she’d probably assume we’re sleeping together. She thinks because she’s sleeping around, I must be doing it too.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would that bother you?” His voice was gentle, his brown eyes just the shade of Hershey’s milk chocolate. There was a tiny spot of blood on the collar of his white shirt, probably from where he’d nicked himself shaving.

  Would it bother her? To have Nancye Bowden thinking the same thing about her that she thought about Nancye? But she knew the slutty things Nancye Bowden was doing. And she, Mary Bliss, wasn’t planning on any bad behavior in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. All she wanted was a real dinner, with a person who didn’t despise her. Maybe some quiet conversation. And a chance to forget that the wolf was at her door.

  “I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said. “Where were you thinking of going?”

  “My place,” he said. “I bought a dozen steaks over in the meat department. Rib-eyes. And I’ll pick up some baking potatoes, and they’ve got some frozen cheesecakes on special.”

  “Great,” Mary Bliss said. “But you have to let me bring the wine. And I’ll fix a salad too. You know, Zippee Dip is a great substitute for sour cream on baked potatoes. And it makes a wonderful salad dressing too.”

  23

  She was singing in the shower, humming along, shampooing her hair, when she heard the phone ringing in the bedroom.

  She grabbed a towel and ran for the phone, catching it on the fourth ring. She was out of breath, naked, and shampoo was dripping down into her eyes.

  “Mary Bliss?”

  It was Randy. “Do you guys have any charcoal over there? Like a dope, I forgot to buy any. Guess I’m still adjusting to buying groceries. And bachelor life in general.”

  “We’ve got a gas grill, so I never buy charcoal,” Mary Bliss said.

  “That’s okay. I’ll just run over to the Jiffy Mart. Can you think of anything else we need? Do you like steak sauce?”

  “Oh, don’t bother with going to the store,” Mary Bliss said. “It’s getting pretty late. Why don’t you bring the steaks over here? It’s just as easy to cook at my place.”

  “What? And pass up the chance to show you what an appalling housekeeper I am?”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Mary Bliss assured him. She felt lighthearted, close to happy, but maybe not quite.

  “Okay, it’s your house, then,” he said. “How soon should I come over? I’ve pretty much got everything ready.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes to dry my hair and set the table,” Mary Bliss said.

  She was still humming while she dressed: loose drawstring pants, a sleeveless top, even a little eye makeup. She decided her feet deserved to go bare for a while, after all they’d been through that day.

  They’d eat in the kitchen, she decided, taking plates and glasses out of the cupboard. The dining room seemed too formal. Too datelike.

  She was washing lettuce for the salad when Randy knocked at the back door.

  Kicked at it, really, since his hands were full.

  “You’ll have to light the gas grill,” she said apologetically. “I’ve always been afraid the thing might blow up on me.”

  “So you’re willing to experiment with me? Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re a man,” Mary Bliss said. “All men like to play with fire.”

  God. Was that her? Was she flirting?

  He did manage to get the grill lit; she poured the two of them a glass of wine and took it out to the little brick patio, where Randy was sitting on one of her Adirondack chairs.

  It was full dark. They could hear the soft cooing of mourning doves coming from the trees at the back of the yard, and the thrumming of cicadas, and the hum of tires on the street out in front. Mary Bliss had a wind chime hanging from the eaves of the back porch, and its ringing kept time with the slight breeze blowing through the treetops. When the wind shifted, you could smell the night-blooming jasmine Mary Bliss had planted on the fence around her vegetable garden.

  “This is nice back here,” Randy said, looking around at the expanse of lawn and flowers, shrubs and vegetable patch. “Who’s the gardener?”

  “Me, I guess,” Mary Bliss said. “Parker usually keeps the grass mowed when he’s home, but I’ve been having to do it lately.”

  “Me too,” Randy said, and they both laughed companionably.

  “I’m an outlaw,” Mary Bliss said. “I’ve been watering on off days. You won’t turn me in, will you?”

  “You can have my water,” Randy said. “My lawn is so far gone, I’ve given up on trying to get it to stay green. Anyway, if I watered it, it would just grow, and I’d just have to keep cutting it.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Mary Bliss said, but they both knew she was being charitable.

  “I can’t seem to get things together with her gone,” he said suddenly, staring down at his wine glass. “Our house is the biggest dump on the block. I guess people are starting to complain.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Mary Bliss said.

  “Yes, it is,” Randy said. “But there’s so much to do. Get the kids to school and baseball practice, make sure there’s food in the house, clean clothes, the bills are paid. Not to mention my job. I never realized how much work there is to keeping a family going.”

  “It’s a lot,” Mary Bliss said, thinking of her own recent struggles.

  “You don’t want to hear me bitch and moan,” Randy said, straightening up. “Let’s see about those steaks.”

&
nbsp; She went inside to get everything else ready.

  “Hope you don’t mind ’em overcooked,” Randy said, bringing in the tray of steaks. “Guess I lost track of time out there.”

  She’d put candles on the table. Should she light them? What was the protocol for a married woman entertaining her nearly divorced next-door neighbor?

  “Wow,” Randy said, looking at the table, set with her everyday china and a little vase of red-and-yellow zinnias she’d cut earlier in the day. “Do you always fix things so nice?”

  What the hell. She decided to light the candles.

  They were just spooning the Zippee Dip over their salads when Erin came in through the garage door.

  “Hey there!” Mary Bliss said brightly.

  “Mom?” Erin looked from her mother to Randy. “Hi, Mr. Bowden.”

  There was a question in her voice.

  “Dad?” Josh Bowden stood behind Erin. His voice had the same question.

  “Look who’s here,” Randy said. “Where have you kids been?”

  “We went to Blockbuster after I got off work, to rent a DVD,” Erin said. “It’s the new remastered Star Wars. What are you two doing?”

  “Having dinner,” Mary Bliss said. “I ran into Randy at Bargain Bonanza. He was buying steaks, and I was selling salad dressing, so we decided to join forces.”

  “There’s lots more steak at the house,” Randy said, his voice a trifle too jolly. “Why don’t you kids join us?”

  “We ate,” Josh said.

  “I don’t eat steak,” Erin added, her voice flat. “We’re just going to go in the den and watch the movie. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  She was giving Mary Bliss an accusing look. We’ll watch the movie while you two make out in here, it seemed to say.

  Now she had Mary Bliss feeling all defensive about an entirely innocent dinner. “Restriction normally means no company, Erin. You know that.”

  Her daughter’s face clouded.