“She called and summoned me to the nursing home the week before she died. Wanted to talk about her will, and her funeral arrangements. And give me a copy of her obituary. Which she wrote out herself on Blue Horse notebook paper.”
“You never said anything to me about that, Charlie,” Mary Bliss said.
“I’m just following my client’s instructions,” Charlie said. “And believe me, I’m not about to cross Eula McGowan. Dead or alive.”
“That’s probably wise,” Mary Bliss said.
She woke up early Thursday. Six o’clock. She wandered downstairs in her nightgown, went outside to pick up the newspaper. She stared at the Bowdens’ driveway. A new car, a shiny black PT Cruiser, was parked there. The lawn had been mowed, and the sprinklers were running. A FOR SALE sign was stuck in the middle of a bed of red petunias that hadn’t been there until very recently.
Randy hadn’t mentioned wanting to sell the house, Mary Bliss thought. But then, she’d been so wrapped up in her own dramas lately that she hadn’t been attuned to the Bowden family soap opera. For Erin’s sake, she hoped Randy wouldn’t move too far away. Erin was going to need Josh’s friendship in the coming months.
She took the newspaper inside and sat down with a cup of coffee to read it, starting with the obituary section.
Eula McGowan’s obituary merited ten inches above the fold on the obituary page of the Constitution. “Eula McGowan, Bridge Champion,” read the headline. Mary Bliss skimmed over it, laughing. The obituary made Meemaw seem like a cross between Mother Theresa and June Cleaver. The black-and-white photograph was an old one, probably taken in the fifties. In the photo, Eula had marcelled blonde hair, cat-eye glasses, and a polka-dot dress. She was smiling down at the playing cards fanned out in her white gloved hands. “She is survived by a son and daughter-in-law, Parker and Mary Bliss McGowan, and granddaughter, Erin Marie McGowan, all of Fair Oaks, Georgia,” the obituary said.
The mention of Parker as a survivor should set Fair Oaks spinning, Mary Bliss thought. Gossip was the number one spectator sport in this town. Before this summer, she would have been quivering with anxiety over the prospect of being the object of all that chatter. Now gossip was the least of her problems.
She glanced at the kitchen clock. It was still early. Without even meaning to, she found herself busy, chopping onions and celery, adding them to a kettle full of boiling water, along with a bay leaf, salt, pepper, chicken bouillon cubes—and five pounds of chicken breasts.
While the chicken was poaching, she threw together some batter for banana bread from some blackened bananas she’d put in the freezer days earlier. She turned on the radio and listened to the early morning news on WSB, then ran out to the garden to pick some tomatoes.
The grass was still wet with dew. The tomato vines had started to turn yellow in places, and the Early Girl vines looked completely played out. But the Better Boys were still loaded with fat, misshapen fruits that fell into her hands when she touched them. She gathered an armful of tomatoes, some so ripe that they split open and spilled seeds down her front.
When she got back to the house, Matt Hayslip was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee. He was wearing a black golf shirt and neatly pressed chinos. A large brown grocery sack was placed on the chair next to his.
“Hey there,” she said, dumping the tomatoes in the sink. She quickly finger-combed her hair and tried to straighten the neckline of her tomato-stained cotton nightgown.
“I rang the doorbell,” he said, “but when you didn’t answer, I came around back. I saw you out there in the garden. Is it all right for me to be here?”
She nodded. “Erin’s still catching up on her sleep. She probably won’t wake up for another couple of hours.”
Matt smiled. “That’s the same nightgown you were wearing the first time we met.”
She looked down and blushed. “You always seem to catch me at my worst.”
“That’s not true,” Matt said, stirring his coffee. “And you know it.”
He gestured toward the kitchen counter, which was lined with spoons and bowls and pans. “You catering another wedding?”
She made a face. “It’s for Meemaw’s funeral luncheon, actually. Nothing much. Just some chicken salad and some banana bread. I was so antsy this morning, I needed something to do.”
“I saw the obituary,” Matt said.
“You and all of Fair Oaks,” Mary Bliss said. “That funeral ought to be quite the social event.”
“Will Parker be there?”
“I don’t know,” Mary Bliss said. “I haven’t talked to him.”
“Oh?”
Mary Bliss sat down opposite him at the kitchen table. “Will you do something for me, Matt?”
“If I can,” he said, choosing his words carefully.
“Don’t come to the funeral. Don’t come looking for Parker. I know it’s your job, but think of Erin, please. It’s her grandmother’s funeral. And she still hasn’t seen or talked to Parker yet. Don’t spoil that by making a scene at the church.”
He frowned. “You think I’d do something as crappy as that? Crash a funeral and arrest somebody?”
“I don’t know,” she said, feeling helpless.
“You don’t know me very well,” he said. “I didn’t come over here looking for Parker today. I came to talk to you. You haven’t been answering your phone, and I didn’t want to leave a message, in case the wrong person was listening.”
“It’s been a madhouse,” Mary Bliss said. “What did you want to tell me?”
He scooted his chair over so that his knees were touching hers. “That I’m here for you. And I’m in for the long haul. No matter what.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of one. He smacked his lips. “Tastes like bananas.”
“What about Parker? He’s still my husband. Technically. Although, if I see him, I may kill him for real this time. I’m so angry at him, it terrifies me.”
“You’re angry? That’s good. That’s a start. Stop making excuses for him. Stop being so goddamned nice, why don’t you?”
“I dream about hurting him,” Mary Bliss whispered. “About tracking him down on that island Eula talked about. And in the dream, I just keep punching him and kicking him and hurting him. And I’m enjoying myself. It feels good. Isn’t that sick?”
“It’s normal,” Matt said.
“I don’t think so,” Mary Bliss said, shaking her head. “What’s going to happen to me? And what’s going to happen to Parker?”
Matt’s face hardened. “He’s going to jail, if I have anything to do with it. My client has decided to press charges. He’s talked to the police, and the district attorney’s office is involved now.”
“What’ll I tell Erin?” Mary Bliss asked. “No matter what else he’s done, Parker is still her daddy. She’s been through so much this summer, Matt. First this, this teacher preys on her, seduces her, and drops her, then her grandmother dies. She’s already lost Parker once this summer. If he goes to jail, I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“Stop trying to shield the kid from the truth, why don’t you?” Matt said, impatient now. “You said it yourself. She’s no virgin anymore. And you’re not doing her any favor by making her mother a martyr, or her father a saint.” Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Parker’s a criminal. He’s a con artist and a thief. Even if I walk away from this case, somebody else is going to pick it up. And sooner or later, the law is going to catch up with him. You can bet on it.”
Mary Bliss stood up abruptly. “I can’t talk about this anymore. It’s too painful.”
Matt took his coffee cup and put it in the sink. He turned around at the kitchen door and gestured at the paper bag on the chair.
“I almost forgot. That’s for you.”
“For me? What is it?”
“Nothing. Just something I picked up at a pawnshop. See you.”
She pounced on the paper bag. A gift-wrapped box was inside. It was heavy. She set it on the kitchen table and p
ulled away the wrappings and ribbon to reveal a heavily carved wooden case. Mary Bliss held her breath and opened the lid.
The sterling silver glittered against the black velvet lining. She didn’t bother to count the pieces. It was all there, she knew. Twelve place settings of Frances I, plus serving pieces and demitasse spoons. She felt flooded with warmth. With hope, really. Matt Hayslip had given her a present, of her past.
74
Mary Bliss and Erin sat in the front row at Fair Oaks First United Methodist Church. The scene was eerily reminiscent of the last service they’d attended here, Mary Bliss thought.
Mr. Isler was playing soft, soothing organ music. The altar was banked with dozens of floral arrangements, including one large floral blanket covering Eula’s casket. The blanket was made of sprays of white chrysanthemums, red carnations, and dyed black statice that was an exact replica of a playing card—a queen of hearts, to be exact. It had been sent by the surviving members of Eula’s bridge club.
People were filing quietly into the pews. Katharine and Charlie sat to her left, Katharine’s arm thrown protectively over Erin’s shoulder. Erin kept glancing toward the back of the church. They all knew who she was looking for.
Mary Bliss glanced at her watch. The service was scheduled to start in less than five minutes. Old Reverend Strayhairn, Eula’s pastor, had cautioned her that he intended to be prompt today, because he had another appointment down in Griffin, an hour south of Fair Oaks.
“Psst!”
Mary Bliss glanced at Katharine. “What?” she mouthed.
Katharine jerked her head to the right, and Mary Bliss looked in that direction. Randy and Nancye Bowden walked quickly up the right side aisle, holding hands. Josh, wearing an ill-fitting suit, his hair wet-combed, followed behind, along with his two younger brothers, who were pushing each other to get into a pew first.
“Do you believe it?” Katharine whispered loudly.
Erin turned and looked too, smiled and waved at Josh, who waved back.
But Mary Bliss was staring at the figure right behind the newly reunited Bowden family.
He was deeply tanned, wearing a light tan suit, summer sandals, and an open-collared light-yellow sport shirt. The chain around his neck glinted in the morning sunlight, and she could just catch a glimpse of the ring—yes, it was her engagement ring, dangling from the chain.
Erin caught sight of him at approximately the same time. “Daddy!” she squealed. She scooted past Charlie and Katharine and threw herself into Parker’s arms.
Mary Bliss heard a faint buzz rising from the pews.
Parker, blushing, seated himself at the far end of the front pew nearest the aisle, with Erin clinging tight to his arm. At one point he leaned over and shook hands with Charlie. He tried to buss Katharine on the cheek, but she turned away, stony-faced.
The organ music swelled and Reverend Strayhairn walked onto the altar and leaned on the lectern. The microphone crackled and he started to speak, his voice deceptively deep and booming, despite his advanced age.
Mary Bliss heard little of what he said, although she thought it had probably all been scripted by Eula herself. She was aware that Katharine had scooted over to fill the void left by Erin, and that her best friend was clutching her hand tightly. She was aware of Charlie’s concerned glances in her direction, and she had a fuzzy, out-of-focus impression of Eula’s old neighbors and friends, pressed into the pews beside and behind her.
She allowed herself just one more look at Parker. He sat slumped in the pew, eyes straight ahead, watching Reverend Strayhairn, listening intently. His hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, the back curling over the collar of his shirt, and he appeared to be wearing blue contact lenses. If he was aware that his wife was staring at him, he gave no notice. His eyes moved only once, when he seemed to be looking at someone sitting in the pew directly behind theirs.
Mary Bliss felt cold. Her bare arms were covered with goose bumps. She shivered, even heard her teeth chattering. “Hang in there,” Katharine whispered in her ear.
Eventually, Reverend Strayhairn ran out of Bible verses and plaudits for the deceased. The organ music swelled again. A soloist started a mournful version of “How Great Thou Art.” Parker slipped out of his pew and walked to the front of the church, where he took up one of the handles of his mother’s mahogany and bronze casket. He was joined by five dark-suited men whom Mary Bliss did not recognize. She supposed they were employees of the funeral home.
Suddenly, Erin darted out of the pew too. She ran to the front of the church and grasped the same casket handle that Parker was holding. Parker frowned, but slowly the group moved the casket down the aisle, toward the back of the church.
As the organ music wound down, Mary Bliss was aware of another buzz arising from the congregation. People were walking up to her, kissing her on the cheek, offering hasty greetings and hushed expressions of sympathy.
She stood like a statue, enduring the hugs and kisses, the gentle pats on the shoulder. Randy and Nancye Bowden edged toward her. Nancye hung back, but Randy enveloped her in an embrace. “Call me,” he whispered. “I’ve got news.”
After fifteen minutes, Katharine gave her a nudge toward the aisle. “Let’s go,” she said loudly. “I need fresh air.”
The church was nearly empty, but Erin was nowhere in sight. Mary Bliss craned her neck, trying to see over the backs of the departing funeral-goers. “Where’s Erin?” she asked anxiously.
Charlie took her arm. “I saw her get in a car with Parker. She’ll be all right.”
“No,” Mary Bliss said, feeling panicky. “Not with Parker. Where were they going? I don’t want her to go with him.”
“It’s all right,” Katharine said soothingly. “They’re going over to our house. For the luncheon. Charlie talked to Parker this morning. He’ll be at the luncheon. He promised. On Eula’s grave.”
“Are you sure?” Mary Bliss asked, her voice frantic. “Are you sure he won’t take off again? He won’t be arrested? I don’t want him arrested in front of Erin.”
“It’ll be fine,” Charlie assured her. “Parker has hired Mike Payne. He’s one of the best criminal lawyers in town. I know for a fact that Payne has talked to the district attorney’s office. They’re not going to come near Parker until after the funeral is over.”
“How do you know?” Mary Bliss asked. “How do you know Parker won’t run and take Erin with him?” She sprinted down the aisle, toward the back of the church. But Katharine was quicker. She caught up to Mary Bliss and tugged her arm, hard.
“Don’t!” Katharine said, her voice sharp. “Don’t you dare go running after him. Not after what he’s put you through.”
“It’s not him I’m after. It’s Erin. I can’t let her go with him.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Katharine said. “Didn’t you see those pallbearers? Don’t you get it?”
“No,” Mary Bliss said. “Those men? They work for the funeral home.”
“Actually, they don’t,” Charlie said calmly. “They’re cops.”
“Now will you relax?” Katharine said. “Come on. I’ve got a flask of Bloody Marys waiting out in the limo. We’ll hoist one to the memory of Eula McGowan. The meanest woman who ever drew breath.”
“To Meemaw,” Mary Bliss repeated.
75
Cars lined both sides of the street in front of the Weidmans’ house. Mary Bliss sat in the backseat of the black limo, clutching her untouched Bloody Mary.
“I thought I was done caring what people think,” she said, leaning forward to look out the tinted glass window. “But now I’m not so sure. I’m not sure I can do this. Not again. Everybody knows. They know I lied. They know Parker’s back. They probably even know cops were swarming all over the church during the funeral.”
“Oh, who cares?” Katharine said briskly. “Don’t make yourself so important. Sure, everybody’s talking about you right now. But that’ll be over in five minutes. As soon as the next scandal du jour
hits the street.”
“A scandal bigger than my faking my husband’s own death?” Mary Bliss asked. “What’s bigger than that, in Fair Oaks?”
“Take a look over there,” Katharine said, pointing to the black PT Cruiser edging into a spot at the curb. “Nancye and Randy Bowden are together again. That’s quality gossip right there.”
“What about us?” Charlie asked, nuzzling Katharine’s ear. “We could make an announcement at the luncheon. That’d take some of the heat off Mary Bliss.”
“What announcement?” Mary Bliss asked.
Katharine blushed. “It’s too soon yet. I can’t talk about it.”
“Katharine!” Mary Bliss screeched. “What kind of an announcement? Are you and Charlie getting remarried?”
“We already did,” Charlie said proudly. “We got hitched in Judge Waller’s chambers on Wednesday.”
“I would have told you,” Katharine said apologetically. “But Charlie made me keep it a secret. Chip’s the only one who knows—other than you.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mary Bliss said, beaming. “Then, what else can it be?” She grabbed Katharine’s arm. “Tell me you’re not moving. Anything but that. You can’t move away. I won’t allow it.”
“Go on,” Charlie said, laughing. “Tell the woman. She deserves some good news. You know you want to tell it.”
Katharine’s grin matched Charlie’s. “All right,” she said. “Promise you won’t make fun of me.”
“I swear,” Mary Bliss said quickly. “Now tell me before I die of curiosity.”
“Okay,” Katharine said. “It’s the most ridiculous, outrageous thing you ever heard. Even I can’t believe it’s true. But it is. I made the doctor run the test twice to be sure.”
“Test?” Mary Bliss furrowed her brow. She glanced over at Katharine’s plastic Bloody Mary cup in the armrest holder, which was also untouched. “Are you telling me…”
“I’m pregnant!” Katharine screamed, throwing one arm around Charlie and the other around Mary Bliss. “Can you believe it?”
Little Bitty Lies Page 40
