Mixed Nuts

by Venita Louise

  “If I do that, will it cover this claim?” Frank asked.

  Russo cleared his throat and leaned forward again. “No, but at least you will have peace of mind for the future. I would suggest talking to your neighbor and try to negotiate a settlement.”

  Frank and Gene stood. “Thanks for your time,” Frank said without offering to shake Russo’s hand again.

  Russo nodded and stood. “Here at Seasonal Insurance, we try harder.”

  “Overactive sympathetic nervous system, my foot!” Frank ranted as they walked through the parking lot. “He doesn’t have a sympathetic nerve in his body!”

  “Why don’t you let me talk to Roberts? It’s the least I can do to help. After all, I was the one who hung the bananas,” Gene said.

  Frank gave him a sidelong glance. “What? And explain things the way you did in there?” He thumbed back at the office building behind them. “I don’t need that kind of help thank you very much.”

  Gene looked at him with a mixture of hurt and surprise. “Then I think we should stop off at Tilly’s on the way home.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Back so soon?” Tilly smiled as they walked up to the counter of her shop. “How is your family doing? Back to normal?”

  “I think I detected signs of life this morning.” Frank looked sheepish. “In my wife anyway.”

  “Very good Mr. Beal.” Tilly’s eyes flashed. “It doesn’t take long for the uncrossing oil to work.”

  “There’s a different problem now,” Gene said as he propped an elbow on the counter then cradled his chin in his hand. “You told me to hang a bunch of bananas to bounce any bad luck back to Roberts.”

  “Yes-s,” Tilly said with a hiss that sounded snake-like.

  “Well, I hung them, and it seems they fell down, and Robert’s slipped on them and hurt his back.” He slapped his hand down on the counter and shook his head. “Now he’s suing Frank for his injuries.”

  Tilly threw her head back and laughed out loud. “It sounds like…” Tilly struggled to say between snorts, “…the bananas are working just fine.”

  Frank raised a palm. “Wait, how can they be working if he’s suing me?”

  Tilly stopped laughing as suddenly as she started. “Tell me,” she said looking at Gene. “Did you light the black candles and burn the repelling incense?”

  Gene rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “No, I forgot.”

  “And did you utter the chant I told you while hanging them with the black ribbon?”

  Gene’s face brightened. “I did use black ribbon,” he said proudly. He frowned. “But I didn’t say the chant. I couldn’t remember all the words. I think I could have remembered them if they rhymed.”

  “How can you expect results to be favorable when you don’t follow the instructions?” Tilly shook her head slowly. “This is a serious ancient art Mr. Beal. It is nothing to play with. Half measures avail you nothing. It is like tipping the first domino, each action will produce a consequence, and if it is done incorrectly, the consequences can be disastrous.”

  Frank sighed deeply. “I’m beginning to believe that.”

  Tilly’s face melted into a compassionate expression. “Okay Mr. Beal, I will help you one last time.”

  Frank’s smile appeared truly grateful. “Thanks Tilly,” he said softly.

  Tilly reached under the counter and slowly brought up a red flannel pouch. She placed it on the counter as delicately as if she were handling an active bomb. She looked at them with her black eyes blazing then reached under the counter again. This time she had a bowl of liquid in her hands. She placed it next to the pouch and held her hands over both.

  Frank started to reach for the pouch. “What do I do with this?”

  “No!” Tilly yelled causing him to jerk his hand back. “This magic is only for Tilly. You never had it, never will.” She closed her eyes. Her lips moved to form words but there was no sound.

  Frank and Gene looked at each other and shrugged.

  After what seemed like minutes, Tilly opened her eyes. They were no longer deep and black but looked like mirrors reflecting back their images.

  Frank gasped and took a step back.

  “Come forward!” Tilly commanded. “Both of you, and close your eyes.”

  Frank and Gene took shaky steps forward until they felt the edge of the counter.

  “Now press your cheeks together!” she commanded.

  They turned back to back and closed their eyes.

  “Not those cheeks! Put your faces together!”

  They chuckled a moment then stood side by side and pressed their faces together.

  “Lower,” Tilly’s voice was thick, and she seemed to have an accent now.

  They bent their knees and waited for further instructions.

  “Lower!” Tilly ordered. “Put your chins on the counter.”

  Frank wanted to open his eyes to make sure no one else was in the shop. He couldn’t imagine what anyone would think if they saw him and Gene bending over the counter, hands laced behind their backs, faces stuck together, resting on their chins. He wanted to open them but he couldn’t.

  Tilly dipped her fingers into the bowl and swirled them around while uttering her chant, “bitter, hour, vinegar-B! Keep the sickness off of thee!”

  “I like it when they rhyme,” Gene whispered.

  Frank elbowed him to keep quiet.

  Tilly drew her fingers from the liquid and flicked the solution into their faces three times.

  They squeezed their eyes shut and grimaced as they felt the drops spray their faces. Frank started to bring his hand up to wipe the moisture away.

  “Don’t move!” Tilly demanded.

  Frank froze.

  Then Tilly opened the red pouch and poured out a handful of dust that was the color of violets. “Spirit of healing, bring blessings upon Frank and Gene, may wealth, health and good fortune be forever theirs.” She held her dust filled palm to her lips and blew forcefully.

  In the next moment, Frank and Gene were standing outside beside Gene’s car. They opened their eyes and blinked at each other. With bewilderment lining their expressions, they gazed around.

  Gene began laughing. “Your face, it’s purple,” he said pointing at Frank’s face.

  “So’s yours,” Frank said as he wiped the inside of his sleeve down his face.

  “It’s not coming off,” Gene laughed and pointed again.

  Frank looked toward Tilly’s shop but it had vanished, and in its place was a tamale stand. Frank slowly walked toward a man wearing a large sombrero who was busy making tamales.

  “Excuse me,” Frank said.

  “You want a bueno tamale?” the man asked. “They are outstanding and they are mild,” he said in a Latin accent.

  “Where’s Tilly?” Gene asked.

  The man slowly raised his head to expose his face.

  “Tito Tortuga!” Frank exclaimed.

  “Hello Mr. Beal, how are you today?”

  “What are you doing here?” Frank asked. “And where is Tilly?”

  Tito smiled. “I have to earn a living, like every other man.”

  Frank gazed around at the area. “I thought you were a gardener.”

  “I do lots of things, so does Tilly.”

  “You know Tilly?” Gene asked.

  Tito smiled again and held up a tamale. “You want one?”

  “We better get going,” Frank said and pulled Gene by the arm.

  “It’s a good thing I am not a one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater,” Tito called after them then burst into raucous laughter.

  Gene eased the car away from the curb clutching the wheel until his knuckles were white. He gave Frank a wide eyed look. “Wow!”

  “Turn around,” Frank yelped after they had driven a couple of blocks. He looked through the back window of the car. “Turn around,” he said excitedly. “There has to be some explanation for this.”

  “Okay, give me a chance,” Gene said an
d signaled his intention. He turned into a driveway that led to an alley and headed back in the direction they came in. He drove slowly along the back entrances of the shops along the alley then pulled up to the corner where Tilly’s shop once was. It was gone. Tilly was gone. Tito was gone, too.

  Frank looked at Gene with confusion and stared out the windows. “What the heck?”

  Gene looked around and swallowed hard. “We’re at a crossroad.”

  Frank took a few deep breaths to appear composed. He opened the front door and was met by an argument between Susan and Matt.

  “Daddy, tell Matt he can’t hog the television all day,” Susan whined and adjusted her hard hat to sit squarely on her head.

  Frank smiled broadly. “Matt, take turns with your sister,” he said as he ran up the stairs. He slowed down when he reached the master bedroom. Every muscle tensed at the prospect of being ambushed by Joan in her black satin and lace corset. He stopped and listened. The sound of crying came from Melinda’s bedroom. He knocked gently on her door and opened it a crack.

  “Melinda? You okay?”

  “Oh good, you’re back,” Joan said. She was fully dressed in her favorite flowered house dress. With knuckles on hips, she glared down at Melinda on the bed. “You need to talk to your daughter.”

  Melinda looked up at him with a tear stained face. “She’s acting like she found drugs in my drawer,” she wailed.

  Joan bent down and snatched something from the bed. She marched toward Frank causing him to take a step back.

  “Just look at this!” She held it out.

  Frank released a relieved breath and frowned. “What is it?”

  Joan’s eyes were drawn to Melinda. “Tell your father what this is.”

  “Oh, Daddy, it’s just a harmless voodoo doll that Bobby’s Aunt Tilly gave to me. She said it would bring good luck to the family and eliminate the evil eye.”

  “This evil eye business has got to stop,” Frank blustered. All of a sudden he paused and stared at her. “Bobby’s Aunt Tilly?”

  Melinda nodded then made a few involuntary hiccups. “His mother’s sister.” Melinda continued to cry softly. “She and Uncle Tito were visiting from Brazil,” she managed to say. “Mr. Roberts hired him to be his gardener while they were here.”

  Frank fingered the doll then sniffed at it. It smelled of cloves and cinnamon. He walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on Melinda’s back and spoke quietly, “sweetheart, voodoo is a serious ancient art. It is nothing to play with. It can have disastrous results if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Not to mention, good Christians do not practice voodoo!” Joan added.

  Frank waved a hand to calm Joan.

  “One look at my face will prove my point,” Frank said and leaned down to tilt his head toward Melinda. “See what the power of voodoo can do?”

  Melinda’s head popped up. Her nose was pink and swollen. Her cheeks were blotchy, and her lips had lost their definition as a result of her weeping session. She gazed at him and frowned. “What’s wrong with your face, Daddy?”

  “It’s purple!”

  The corners of Melinda’s lips curved up slightly. “No it’s not.”

  Frank surged up and dashed to the mirror. The purple residue was all gone. He turned his head from side to side. Only a heavy five o’clock shadow blurred his features.

  “It was purple an hour ago right after Tilly blew dust in our faces.”

  “You know Tilly?” Melinda asked with growing interest. She sat up and pushed her legs over the side of the bed.

  “We met a couple of times,” Frank said as he pulled a tissue from the box on her dresser and returned to the bed. “She’s a very interesting person.”

  “Isn’t she?” Melinda plucked the tissue from his fingers and blew her nose. “She had so many stories about the art of conjure and the Oracles of Santeria.” She sniffed.

  “Honey, I know you like Tilly, but I think it’s best we leave the voodoo to her.” He stuffed the doll into his pants pocket. “I’ll hold on to this if you don’t mind.”

  Melinda stood and slipped her arms around his waist. “Okay, Daddy.” She looked up and smiled. Frank felt protective as he gazed at her face so innocent and childlike.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too, darlin’.” Frank stroked her hair and patted her shoulders.

  He smiled at Melinda then stepped back and turned to link his arm in Joan’s to lead her out of the room.

  “You handled that very well,” Joan said after closing Melinda’s door. “I think you should be the official spokesman from now on.”

  Frank put on a startled look. “I don’t know if I want to sign up for permanent spokes duty.”

  Joan giggled and squeezed his arm. “What did the insurance agent say about Rex’s law suit?”

  Frank smiled sardonically. “It seems our policy doesn’t cover accidents of this type, but he did suggest increasing our coverage, lowering our deductible and paying a higher premium.”

  “No wonder they’re so rich.” Joan shook her head. “What are you going to do with that thing?” She pointed to his pocket.

  “I’m going to let Gene take care of it. He knows just the place to bury it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Frank tapped on the side of the aquarium and smiled. “Good morning my little cold-blooded natatory creatures.” He sprinkled food across the top of the water and then shuffled into the kitchen. He flicked on the light and rubbed his eyes. His jaw cracking yawn was accompanied by a loud hum as he scratched his fingernails across his ribs.

  Blackie slinked around Frank’s slippers and rubbed up against his legs as he meowed. He had unenthusiastically become a member of the family by a vote of five to one. Of course with Joan casting the opposing vote, Blackie had lovingly adopted her as his preferred human.

  “I know,” Frank said. “You want your breakfast.” He opened the pantry and checked the shelf. “Tuna, tuna, tuna,” he said running a finger down the cans. “How do you feel about tuna?”

  Blackie meowed.

  “Tuna it is.” Frank positioned the opener on the side of the can. Blackie yowled louder at hearing it.

  “All right, keep your boots on.”

  Frank set the dish on the floor and stopped to listen. He thought he heard the front door open. He tapped the fork on the edge of the dish as Blackie nosed his way past it.

  “Hi.”

  Frank jumped and flipped tuna meat across the floor as he looked up. “Man! You scared me!”

  “Sorry,” Gene said.

  “Where have you been? I asked you to bury that voodoo doll days ago, and you never came back. I was beginning to think you met with foul play.” Frank snagged a rag and wiped the floor in several places. “I would have called the police but you’re such a vagabond, I figured you just got a wild hair and went back home for awhile.”

  Gene grinned and tilted his head. “Nope, didn’t go home, but you’ll never guess who I ran into at the crossroads.”

  Frank looked up from his kneeling position, one eyebrow rose in query. “Who?”

  Gene held up an index finger. “Don’t go away,” he said and rushed to the front door. He returned a moment later.

  “Helen!” Frank said and stepped toward her to give her a hug.

  “It’s been a long time, Frank.”

  “How did you know where to find Gene?” he asked.

  Helen placed an index finger to her temple and rolled her eyes. “It could have been the note he left on the kitchen table that said … Gone to Franks for an indeterminate amount of time.” She laughed. “I can’t believe he actually thought I ran off with a salesman,” she challenged softly. “I distinctly remember telling him I was going to visit my mother.”

  Gene blushed. “I must have been preoccupied.”

  “You must have been drunk,” she corrected. “It was a coincidence that I got lost on the way here and found him burying something on
the side of the road.”

  “A coincidence?” Frank looked at Gene.

  Gene shrugged. “I’m kind of getting used to them.”

  “You never told me what you were doing out there,” Joan said curiously.

  “Good Morning,” Joan said from the kitchen door. “Helen is that you?” She smiled. “I hardly recognized you with blond hair.”

  “Bless your heart,” Helen said as she gave Joan a hug. “You’re the only one who’s noticed.”

  Gene and Frank looked at each other.

  “I love it,” Joan said fluffing the shoulder length ends. “I wonder how I would look as a blond.”

  Helen ran her fingers through her hair and grinned. “I thought; if I’ve only one life to live, let me live it as a blond.”

  Joan smiled. “Pancakes anyone?” she asked as she opened the cupboard and pulled out a brown plastic bowl.

  “Hey, isn’t that our popcorn bowl?” Frank asked.

  Joan shrugged. “Pancake batter won’t hurt it.”

  Frank reached into a cupboard and pulled out a glass bowl. “Maybe not, but I don’t feel like popcorn flavored pancakes this morning.”

  Joan stuck her tongue out at him as he turned away. “What ever you say dear,” she mocked.

  A loud engine started up next door. Joan tipped her head back and groaned.

  “What’s that?” Gene asked.

  Frank walked to the window, stood on his toes and strained to look out. “It’s a backhoe. Robert’s is digging a swimming pool in his back yard.”

  “When are we getting a swimming pool?” Joan asked.

  “I’m still working on my first million,” Frank said in the most reasonable tone he could muster. “Maybe we can have one in about ten years.”

  Joan turned to look at him. “You mean I have to listen to them splashing around in their built in swimming pool for ten years before I get one of my own?”

  “I’ll buy you some ear plugs,” Frank said with a humorless smile.

  “Guess what?” Helen said as she stirred the batter while Joan added eggs. “Gene found a job nearby so we will be moving close to you in a couple of weeks. Isn’t that great?”