“…can’t have that kind of thing…trusted you…” Aida’s voice had an affronted tone.
“Aida Butler. The very idea is positively absurd.” The silver-haired woman’s voice projected better than Aida’s.
Were they talking about Poppy? So much was absurd anymore, it could’ve been anything.
I took a position against the wall not too far away, with Aida and her friend on my right. I turned my back to them, but kept my ears tuned in to their conversation. Frantically, I continued to search my purse.
“…my reputation to be considered…” Aida’s voice.
“Don’t fret another second about it. Keep our Poppy in your prayers. Everything’s going to be just fine. Now tell me, dear, do you have enough volunteers for the community supper?”
I rotated slowly in their direction and looked up from my purse. For the first time, I saw the silver-haired woman’s face. It was Polly Buxton’s friend from the bookshop. She must be one of the women from Poppy’s route who’d introduced Poppy to Aida. And she was another candidate for our unidentified client.
They chatted for another few minutes about the community supper, then Aida said, “I’m going upstairs to get a seat for this morning’s class.”
“I can’t stay,” said her friend. “I came to the eight o’clock service.”
They bussed cheeks and Aida headed towards the doorway at the back of the room. The mystery woman moved in the opposite direction. I followed her out the Wentworth Street exit, giving her plenty of room.
She went left and crossed Glebe, moving at a brisk clip, her low-stacked heels clicking rhythmically on the sidewalk. A block later she crossed Wentworth, then entered Wentworth garage. When she got on the elevator, I walked on past. I didn’t need to rush up the stairs to whichever level she’d parked on. She was coming down. There were two exits, one onto Wentworth and one onto St. Philip Street. Either way, she had to come down the ramp in the center of the garage and make a right. I positioned myself on the far side of the ramp and lingered, studied my phone as if it held the answers to deep questions. I unlocked it and tapped the camera icon.
Five minutes later, a gold S-Class Mercedes rolled onto the ground level and swung right. Using my peripheral vision, I verified it was her, then walked in the opposite direction. With a practiced move, I lowered my right arm, held the phone upside down and backwards, and tapped the button with my thumb. Then I checked to be sure I had her license plate number in the photo and called Nate to pick me up.
“Learn anything?” he asked as I climbed into the Explorer on the corner of Wentworth and St. Philip.
“One of Aida Butler’s friends from church—one of the ones who knows Poppy, and very likely vouched for her with Aida—was in the bookstore when I followed Mrs. Drayton there yesterday.”
“You know how I feel about coincidence.”
“Exactly,” I said. “She’s my first order of business, right after lunch.”
Lay-ee-odl lay-ee-odl lay-hee-hoo.
SEVEN
We pulled to a stop behind Blake’s Tahoe in Mamma and Daddy’s driveway. Merry’s fiancé’s Subaru Forrester was there too. We were the last to arrive. Acid rose in my throat.
“I’m thinking word has spread,” I said. “It’s early yet. Mamma and Daddy have just barely had time to get home from church. Merry and Blake are never here this early. Do you have any Tums?”
Nate gave me a worried look, fished a small package out of the console, and handed me two of the chewable antacids. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, someone else dealt with the goats.”
We steeled ourselves, got out of the car, and proceeded up the steps. Halfway across the front porch we heard the most mournful howl imaginable.
“Chumley,” I said.
“That can’t bode well,” said Nate.
Daddy’s Bassett hound was in deep distress.
I opened the door, calling out to my family as we hurried inside. “Where is everybody?”
Naturally, I knew Mamma and Merry would be in the kitchen, and Daddy, Blake, and Joe Eaddy—I really had to stop saying that in my brain like it was a double name like Billy Joe, but my soon-to-be brother-in-law’s name was pronounced Joe Eddie—would be in the den, where the howling was coming from.
I poked my head in. Kinky was sprawled on Chumley’s bed, spilling off the sides. Chumley objected loudly. Kinky’s bed across the room was empty, but Chumley was having none of that. No one else was in the room.
“Does that pig look smug to you?” I asked Nate.
“I cannot adequately express my alarm at this fact, but yes, I can discern an air of self-satisfaction.”
“Shhhh, now,” I said to the dog. “Mamma?” I ran to the kitchen. A platter full of fried chicken waited on the island, but Mamma and Merry were nowhere to be found.
“Oh, dear Heaven,” I said. “What on earth has happened? Where is everybody?”
Nate walked over to the French backdoor, peered into the backyard. “Blake’s out back.”
I crossed the room to join him.
“Oh, sweet reason.” I didn’t recognize the backyard I’d played in as a child.
Less than ten yards from the house, a large piece of equipment with a claw-scooper arm on it, which I could only guess was the backhoe Charlie had mentioned, sat by a hole that looked big enough for an Olympic-sized pool. Three massive mounds of dirt sat on the far side of the hole. My brother climbed the one in the middle, atop which sat a brown and white pygmy goat.
I pulled open the door.
“Blake?” Mamma’s no-nonsense voice floated down from upstairs.
“Mamma?” I dashed back down the hall towards the bottom of the staircase.
“Liz, where’s your brother?” She looked down at me with an expression that strongly discouraged questions.
“He’s outside,” I said.
“Nate, would you please help me with these suitcases?” she asked.
Nate looked at me wide-eyed for help.
I had nothing.
“Ah…sure. Of course.” He started up the stairs.
“Mamma, no,” I said. “Please don’t do this. We’ll get rid of the goats and get the yard put back to rights. This is—you can’t just leave.”
She drew back her chin, flashed me an incredulous look. “Leave? Why certainly I’m not leaving. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve packed your father’s bags for him. He will be leaving.”
“Where is Daddy?” I asked. “Where’s Merry?”
“I imagine she and Joe are out back helping to round up the herd,” said Mamma.
Nate reached the top of the steps, picked up the largest of three suitcases, and looked at me.
“Wait. Wait.” I raised my hands in a stop motion. I needed time to think.
“Wait for what?” asked Mamma. “Your father to come to his senses? That’s a lost cause if ever there was one. Did you see what’s become of our backyard? ‘The doctor says swimming is good for your joints,’ he said. ‘It’ll be like living on vacation,’ he said. Lord knows I can’t blast him off this island to take a normal vacation, like our normal friends. Fine, I told him. Get some bids from reputable contractors. Do you know what he did?”
I shook my head, absolutely certain I didn’t want her to tell me.
Chumley continued to howl incessantly.
“Your father bought a franchise for a pool company. A pool company.” Her voice rose on each word. “Then…then…” She inhaled long and slow, then exhaled. Her eyes popped open, large and round. “Then, he hired his cousin Ponder and Ray Kennedy to run the damn thing. And he turned them loose in my backyard.”
I felt my face squinch up. “Ray Kennedy? What does he know about swimming pools?”
“Exactly.” Mamma nodded enthusiastically. “He may be the only person drawing breath who knows less about them than your daddy’s
cousin Ponder.”
Ray Kennedy—no relation to the famous political family—sold things out of his trunk door-to-door. As far as I knew, that was the only career he’d ever had. A European orphan from some country I could neither pronounce nor find on a map, he’d been raised by religious zealots in rural Pennsylvania. Ray Kennedy had not had a happy life, is what I’m saying.
He and Daddy crossed paths when I was a child. He’d been trying to sell Daddy some damn thing. Daddy brought him home and Mamma fed him. He’d been hanging around ever since. He peddled all manner of things that normal people refused to buy in reputable stores but would sometimes break down and purchase from a salesman standing on their front porch. Last I’d heard, Ray was selling solar panels. I’d been happy he was doing so well. Solar panels were a big step up from Japanese weight-loss sunglasses, flour made from bugs, and cave-man style camping vacations he called re-wilding retreats. Ray Kennedy was a whole nother story.
“Does Ponder even know Ray?” Ponder Talbot was Daddy’s Uncle Harrison’s love child, and the closest thing Stella Maris had to a town drunk. Or, he had been. He’d been doing real good in his twelve-step program for the last few years, but he’d had a sad life, Come to think of it, maybe he and Ray Kennedy had a lot in common.
“Well, he does now,” said Mamma. “Nate Andrews, are you going to take those suitcases downstairs or not?” For the first time ever, Mamma turned The Look on Nate.
Lesser men would’ve melted.
“Absolutely, Carolyn.” His voice was calm, soothing. “I was just waiting to ask where you’d like me to put them.” Damn, but my husband was a pro.
“As long as they’re out of my house and off my porch, I couldn’t care less,” said Mamma.
“Mamma, come sit with me and let’s talk about this,” I said.
“Sit and talk to your daddy if you’d like. Or your sister. Every bit of this is her fault. I have more important things to tend to than conversation at the moment.”
“Merry? Mamma, wait. What does Merry have to do with any of this?”
“You know very well your sister has a soft spot for anything with fur,” said Mamma.
I realized I was clutching my head in both hands so hard that it hurt. “Yes, but—”
“Your father agreed on the way home from church that he would find a new home for the goats and that ridiculous pig,” said Mamma. “When your sister heard that, she started carrying on so that your daddy decided maybe that was a bad idea after all.”
“But why is everyone outside rounding up the goats if they aren’t going anywhere?” I asked.
“Ah,” said Mamma. “While your sister was passionately pleading the goats’ case, I fielded phone calls from three different sets of neighbors whose flower and/or vegetable gardens have been vandalized by those creatures. Several sections of our fence are down due to the machinery—not that any fence would keep those little bastards inside, but your father claims he thought it would. And one of them—I suspect Larry—was standing on the roof of Arthur Murphy’s Cadillac this morning. Arthur was afraid of the goat and missed church. Apparently there are hoof marks on the hood and roof of the car.”
“Surely even Merry now agrees now that the goats have to go,” I said. “Isn’t there a local farm or something that can take them?”
“All I care about is that they are leaving here immediately. As soon as they’re apprehended, they’re going to your sister’s house. She likes farm animals so much, she can have them all. See how she likes cleaning up after them. She can take your daddy along too, though he’s far more trouble than all the rest of them put together. Heaven only knows who’ll mind them all while she’s off on her grand adventure. It will not be me.”
“Mamma, I know this is all completely out of hand, but—”
“Can’t you see what I’m trying to tell you?” Mamma’s voice had risen to near hysteria.
“I’m not sure I understand, Mamma,” I said, keeping my voice soft.
“It’s this wedding trip of your sister’s,” said Mamma. “If she would stay here and get married like a normal person, your daddy would have something to keep his mind and his pocketbook occupied besides random farm animals and unwise investments. If someone would set to getting us some grandchildren, none of this nonsense would be happening.”
And there it was.
Nate and I exchanged a glance.
“Carolyn, could I trouble you for an aspirin?” asked Nate.
The angle of Mamma’s head changed as if she’d been in a trance and someone had snapped their fingers in front of her face. “Of course. I have some in the medicine cabinet. What’s wrong?”
“Just a touch of a headache, nothing really,” said Nate.
Mamma moved towards the master bath, calling over her shoulder, “What have you eaten today?”
“To be honest, I skipped breakfast. We had some early morning casework in Charleston,” said Nate.
Brilliant. My husband was freaking brilliant.
Mamma reappeared on the landing and handed him the aspirin. “Liz, get your husband a glass of water. Then set the table and call everyone inside for lunch. It’s time to put a stop to every bit of this nonsense.”
“Of course, Mamma,” I said.
Nate walked right around that pile of luggage and took Mamma’s arm, spoke to her slowly. “Be careful on these stairs now,” he said. “Did I see fried chicken in the kitchen?” He escorted her down the steps. “I can’t believe you stood over the stove to fry all that chicken in this heat. But I sure am looking forward to it, yessiree.”
I hadn’t moved from my spot at the bottom of the stairs.
“E-liz-a-beth.” Mamma inspected me. “You’re looking pale. Are you all right? Let’s get lunch on the table. I declare, it’s a wonder to me that you children survive the way you eat—or rather the way you constantly skip meals.”
Mamma was back, at least for the moment. Nate had given her someone to mother, and that had snatched her back from the brink of some sort of breakdown.
I darted into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Nate and Mamma came into the kitchen behind me. I handed him the glass. “Be right back.”
He shot me a look that said Go with God. “Carolyn, why don’t you sit down and I’ll set the table.”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Mamma. “Here, you sit and drink that water.” She tsk-tsked him.
I took a deep breath, opened the door, and dashed into the wasteland of our former backyard. One of the goats was on top of the backhoe, another on the mountain of dirt on the right side of the yard, and the third munched nonchalantly on a container garden filled with Gerber daisies.
Daddy was apparently trying to stare the goat off the tractor. “You little bastard, get down from there.”
“Daddy.” I looked at him sideways. “What in the name of common sense were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wouldn’t have to mow the grass if I had goats,” he said. “All that brush beyond the tree line, where I got my truck stuck a while back? Nice herd of goats could keep all that mess chewed down. But so far, they haven’t taken to that. Vegetable gardens are easier pickings, I guess.”
“You know very well they eat everything in sight. And besides that, you’ve had all the grass dug up. There’s barely any grass left in the yard. Of course they’re foraging in neighbors’ gardens.”
“Huh.” He gave a shot at an innocent look.
“Unh-uh. I’m not buying it,” I said. “I know exactly what you were thinking. You were thinking this was a good way to irritate Mamma. What was your plan? You had to know the goats wouldn’t be staying here long.”
He looked disappointed, like he wanted to play a fun game that no one else was interested in. “There’s a yoga studio over on Folly Beach that wants them.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I felt my left eye twitch.<
br />
“I called the petting zoo up to Summerville. They have plenty of goats, but they told me about some woman who has a yoga studio in Folly Beach, and she wants them for her classes. Don’t ask me what the hell that’s all about. Damned if I know. All’s I know is she wants them.”
“Will she come get them?” I asked.
“Well, she made arrangements with the petting zoo people to pick them up. All I have to do is call the man.”
The goat on top of the dirt mound sailed over Blake’s head just as he closed in on him. Blake let out a long string of curse words.
Merry and Joe came around the back of the house with a leash and a collar.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Soothing Arthur Murphy,” she said. “And looking for collars and leashes. I could only find one of each.”
“I think Mamma was on the verge of a breakdown. Nate’s with her in the kitchen. I’m worried about her,” I said.
“Yeah, me too.” Our eyes met, and I knew she knew what weighed heavy on Mamma’s mind—grandchildren.
“Let’s just alleviate as much of the stress as we can,” I said. “We’re not goatherds, for Heaven’s sake. How would we contain these things if we caught them? Daddy.”
“What?”
“For the love of Pete, please make the call and let’s all go inside,” I said.
“Have it your way.” He cussed the goat while he pressed the buttons on his cell phone.
“Someone’s coming to get them?” Joe looked so disappointed.
“Not nearly soon enough. Blake.” I waved him over.
He joined our huddle, a particularly disgusted look on his face. “We could chase those damned hateful sons of bitches from now ‘til next June. You can’t catch them. I’m exhausted. Dammit, Dad. Dammit to hell.”
“Quit your bellyaching.” Daddy hung up the phone. “Somebody will be here directly.”
“But they’re so cute.” Merry made a pouty face, stared adoringly at the nearest goat, the one eating the daises. “Look at this little fellow. Look at that face. Don’t you just want to mash that face and kiss it?”
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