“Who is he?” Taffy brushed the tops of the biscuits with butter.
“His name is Timothy Hollingsworth.”
Taffy dropped the brush she was holding and gave me a surprised look. “Did you say Hollingsworth? As in Hollingsworth Paper Cups?”
I wanted to grab a biscuit and take a nibble, but instead I sat on my hands, inhaling the luscious aroma.
“Yeah, that’s the one.” I didn’t like the way Taffy was staring at me. She had a blue vein that throbbed in her temple when she held her head real still.
Taffy flung open the door of the pantry. “Can’t be. Can’t be the same family. Why would a Hollingsworth date a girl from the Creek? Besides, a grandmother of a Hollingsworth wouldn’t trade at a hole-in-the-wall place like that dollar store of yours.”
“Grace Tobias thinks thrift is a virtue and she says that the Bottom Dollar is just brimming with bargains,” I said.
“Dwayne,” Taffy said. “Get yourself in here!”
My daddy strode into the kitchen with Lanier behind him. His face was cloudy. “Is that any way to call a man to the supper table?”
“The heck with eating for a minute. You will not believe what your daughter told me right here in this kitchen. Go on. Tell your daddy what you just said.”
All of their eyes were fixed on me. I wasn’t used to being the center of attention in my family. I tugged on the hangnail on my index finger. “I’m going out on a date with Timothy Hollingsworth, is all.”
Taffy clicked her fingernails on the counter. They were shiny and hard as billiard balls. “Timothy Hollingsworth. Son of that fellow who went belly-up on the golf course, owner of Hollingsworth Paper Cups.”
“Well, imagine that. Our Elizabeth, doing the town with the son of a millionaire,” Daddy said.
“That family is the richest one in Augusta,” said Taffy.
Lanier looked bewildered at having lost his spot in the limelight. “When are we going to eat? I’m hungry,” he whined.
“We will eat directly, Lanier,” Taffy said. She shook her head sadly. “Elizabeth, you’re a sweet girl but you aren’t exactly high society. You won’t have a clue about how to behave around a fancy pants like Timothy Hollingsworth.”
“I’m sure I’ll muddle through somehow,” I said quietly.
Taffy lifted her chin and smiled brightly. “Luckily for you, I know a thing or two about how the other half lives. I’d be glad to give you some pointers before your date.”
Daddy chuckled. “What do you know about the lives of rich folks, Taffy?”
“From reading books, Dwayne,” Taffy huffed. “I have read every single word that Jackie Collins has ever written and those books are crawling with rich people. Or the ‘jet set,’ as they like to call themselves.”
Taffy put her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. “Your outfit just screams Kmart. You’re definitely going to need some wardrobe advice.”
My daddy flipped off the top of his beer. “Taffy, you’ve got more clothes that you need. Let her borrow some outfits of yours.”
“Don’t you have eyes? She doesn’t got my figure. She’s got nothing on top and a mite too much on the bottom,” Taffy said. “However, I will let you borrow my faux zebra coat as long as you don’t move around too much in it. It has a tendency to shed.”
I scratched a mosquito bite on my ankle. “Thank you, Taffy. But I think I’ll do fine with my own clothes.”
“It has been a tad humid for the zebra,” Taffy mused. “Listen here, if he takes you to a fancy restaurant and they set a little bowl with a lemon floating it in, don’t drink it. It’s to dunk your hands in. Rich people have all kinds of peculiar eating rules.”
“Taffy, I know how to behave at the supper table,” I said.
“Dinner!” Taffy said with a shake of her stiff hair. “People with class call it ‘dinner.’”
“Tell me when you and Elizabeth stop your hen talk,” my daddy said. “Me and the boy are hungry.” He stole a gherkin from a cut glass dish and walked out of the kitchen. Lanier wandered behind him.
Taffy vigorously stirred a skillet of flour gravy on the stove. “There are so many things to remember. Don’t spit chicken grizzle into your napkin. Don’t sop your bread in the gravy.” She turned her back on me to reach for some pepper in the cupboard. I probably had only a few seconds before she would whirl around with some other advice, so I took my chances and stole one of the biscuits from the cookie sheet and slipped it into my pocket book.
“Are you listening to me, Elizabeth?”
I nodded and hopped down from my perch at the bar. “Excuse me, Taffy, while I go to the powder room.”
“I’ll make a list,” Taffy said. “That’s what I’ll do, and you can study on it before your date.”
I walked down the hall on the copper-colored carpet that led to the powder room. Then I made myself comfy on the lid of the commode, retrieved the biscuit from my purse, and bit off a mouthful.
I thought about last Sunday’s sermon at the Methodist Church. Reverend Matilda had quoted Mother Teresa’s lesson about Jesus appearing in all of his distressing disguises. I thought of Jesus with blond hair, saline breasts, and blood-red nails. He surely would be hard to recognize. But he showed a glimpse of himself with the biscuits. As always, they were the best I’d ever tasted.
Six
Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
~ Handwritten sign on the Coca-Cola machine outside Bryson’s Hardware
Birdie tapped her gavel on a can of kidney beans. I’d asked her to chair the first meeting of SOB (Save Our Businesses) at the Bottom Dollar Emporium since she knew parliamentary procedure. “Order, please, order,” she said in her high, sure voice. “Social hour is over. It’s time to call our meeting to order.”
The small group, who were huddled over a bowl of caramel corn, wandered over to the semicircle of folding chairs. Hank Bryson stuffed one last handful in his mouth and ambled to his seat.
As acting secretary, I noted everyone in attendance. Jerry Sweeny of the Stuff and Mount Taxidermy Shop was chewing on a piece of red licorice like it was a toothpick. He eyed Reeky Flynn with obvious interest.
Reeky, owner of the Book Nook on Main, had her nose in a copy of Homeopathy, Healing and You. Her curtain of long, brown hair obscured her face so that you could see only the glint of her granny glasses and the point of her sharp nose.
Orson from the Bait Box and Tanning Salon scooted his chair next to mine and tipped the brim of his hat in greeting. Jewel Turner, owner of the Chat ‘N’ Chew, had taken off one of her shoes and was massaging her stockinged foot. Boomer from the butcher shop wanted to come, but he had to attend a meat cutter’s convention. That was everyone, besides Mavis, Attalee, and me.
“I want to thank all of you for coming out this evening,” Birdie said. “I know everyone here sympathizes with Mavis’s plight. And I’m sure she appreciates your support.”
Mavis nodded, twisting her hands nervously in her lap.
“I’d like to turn the floor over to Elizabeth,” Birdie said. “She’s the one who called this meeting.”
“Thank you, Madam Chairperson,” I said softly. I cleared my throat. “I know y’all are here because you care about Mavis and you don’t want her business to go under. But this is really more than Mavis’s problem. Our whole town is being threatened.”
With everyone’s eyes on me, I felt my palms getting slick.
“This is about huge companies coming here with their corporate backing and their big bank accounts and knocking aside the little guys. This is about losing Cayboo Creek’s character as a town. It started with Goody’s wiping out Vickery’s Family Clothiers. Now I know some of us here aren’t too keen on Mello Vickery—”
“Her nose is so high in the air it oughta be on
her forehead,” Attalee remarked.
“Speaking of which, did you know that Goody’s is having a big old sale on all their Dockers?” Jewel asked, twirling a strand of her red hair around her finger. “Twenty-nine dollars a pair. Sag Harbor’s being marked down too.”
Reeky glanced up from her book and consulted her watch. “Do they stay open to nine on weekdays?”
“Excuse me, Jewel, Attalee, and Reeky,” Birdie said. “You’ve not been recognized.” She nodded for me to continue.
“Thank you,” I said. “Then of course, there’s that new Winn-Dixie coming to town. Now I realize we desperately need a new grocery store, but—”
“Do we ever!” Attalee said. “I’ve heard there’s going to be a deli, video rental, and an in-store ATM.”
“Is there going to be a seafood department?” Jewel asked. “Or is that just a rumor?”
“Ladies,” Birdie warned. “The chair doesn’t—”
“There’s been talk of an in-store coffee shop and restaurant,” I said loudly. “They’ll probably serve the same sort of things you do at the Chat ‘N’ Chew restaurant, Jewel.”
“What?”Jewel gasped.
“And they may even have a whole aisle filled with paperbacks and bestsellers, Reeky.”
“They wouldn’t,” Reeky breathed.
“Gosh, Elizabeth,” Jerry said, in a nervous voice. “You don’t suppose they’ll have an on-premises taxidermist too?”
“No, Jerry,” I said. “I think you’re safe. You too, Orson. I’ve not seen live bait in many grocery stores. But what I’ve been trying to say is, this isn’t just Mavis’s problem. It’s all of our problems and if we don’t start addressing it now, some or all of us could be out of business one day.”
Hank put up his hand. “Can I be recognized, Madam Chairman?”
Birdie nodded.
“Elizabeth has a real point here and nobody knows that more than me, being in the hardware business,” Hank said. “Thanks to those big warehouse hardware stores popping up all over the country, family-owned hardware stores are as scarce as hen’s teeth.”
“Is a new hardware store coming into town?” Orson asked.
“Not that I know of,” I said. “But it could happen. That’s why I called this meeting. We need to prepare for those kinds of eventualities.”
“I never even thought about that new Winn-Dixie carrying books,” Reeky said in a panicky voice. “Right now the Book Nook is the only place in town that carries reading materials. I’ve had to add knickknacks to my inventory just to limp by. People in Cayboo Creek don’t appreciate good literature.”
Reeky had moved here from Columbia, S.C., two years ago to look after her ailing mother. She’d been a secretary in the English department at the University and we all got the impression that most Creek folk were a tad backward for her tastes.
Jerry grinned at Reeky. “I love to read. You carry Louis L’Amour in that shop of yours?”
“No,” Reeky said, quickly.
“How about Taxidermy Today,” he asked. “I read that every month.”
“Magazines extolling the killing of innocent animals?” Reeky said. “I’d sooner carry Soldier of Fortune.”
“That’s one heck of a magazine, too,” Jerry said. “I’ll have to come visit this shop of yours.”
“Order, please,” Birdie said with a bang of her gavel.
Jewel waved her hand. “Elizabeth, what can we do about this? I don’t want Cayboo Creek to be taken over by big businesses. I like our town the way it is.”
Everyone nodded, even Reeky.
“I do have some ideas,” I said. “I visited a Web site called Sprawl-Busters that says towns can pass zoning changes that favor local businesses and keep out big old stores like Wal-Mart and Home Depot.”
“Can those zoning laws be retroactive? Could we stop the Winn-Dixie or the Super Saver from coming here?” Mavis asked.
“It would be much harder to keep out businesses whose zoning have already been approved,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think we’d get support in town for keep the Winn-Dixie out. Folks are getting tired of driving twenty miles to Augusta for their groceries.”
“My Fudge Swirl ice cream is soup by the time I get it home,” Attalee said. “‘Specially in summertime.”
“As far as the Winn-Dixie is concerned, if it threatens any of our local businesspeople like Reeky and Jewel, we could start a campaign to discourage folks from buying books there or other items that take away from local businesses,” I said.
“I don’t know if that will work too well,” Orson said, leaning back in his chair. “People might do it for a spell and then they’d slack off.”
“I know,” I said. “But there’s no sense going off the deep end until we find out exactly what threat the Winn-Dixie will pose. A couple of phone calls should clear that up.”
“I’d be glad to call corporate headquarters, Elizabeth,” Birdie said. “I was planning to do a story in the Crier anyway, so I can find out what amenities the new Winn-Dixie will offer.”
“Great, Birdie,” I said. “Now I think it’s time to turn our attention to the Bottom Dollar Emporium. What can we do to help save it?”
Hank squirmed in his chair. Jerry fumbled in his shirt pocket for his chewing tobacco. A couple of people coughed. The brainstorming session wasn’t going the way I’d planned.
After a long moment, Jewel said, “How about offering trading stamps? I remember when I was a little girl, me and my mama always made a point to go to the grocery stores that gave away S&H trading stamps.”
“I got a four-slice toaster with ten books of trading stamps. I had a green tongue for days,” Birdie remarked.
“Offer the customer incentives,” I said, writing on my notepad. “Good thinking, Jewel. We’ll look into that. Anything else?”
“Why don’t we write a letter telling the Super Saver not to come?” Attalee said. “Tell them we already have a dollar store here and one is plenty.”
Everyone chuckled. Mavis shook her head and patted Attalee’s shoulder.
“I wish it were that simple, dearie,” she said.
“Wait a minute,” I said, suddenly inspired. “It might just be that simple. Suppose we do write a letter to the top brass of the Super Saver saying they’re not welcome here? But along with the letter we enclose a petition signed by the townspeople saying they won’t patronize the Super Saver if it opens here.”
Hank slapped his ample thigh. “You know, Elizabeth, you might just have something there.”
After some discussion it was decided that everyone in attendance would keep a petition in their businesses urging customers to sign. Other petitions would be distributed to all the businesses on Main and Mule Pen Road. Birdie would write an article in the Crier about our campaign and all of us would try and get as many signatures as possible.
Everyone seemed encouraged except Mavis, whose face was awash with uncertainty.
“I called Madge last night,” she said softly. “She says Onida has five inches of snow on the ground. Can you imagine? And here it is only October.” She pulled her sweater tightly around her and shuddered.
“Don’t you worry, Mavis,” I said. “This next October you’ll be wearing your summer nightie and sleeping under the ceiling fan as you’ve done every October of your life.”
“I wish I could be as sure of that as you, Elizabeth,” she said.
“Don’t worry so, Mavis,” Birdie said. “I do believe we’ve made some accomplishments this evening. And this is just the beginning.” Birdie gave one final tap of the gavel. “Meeting adjourned.”
Seven
Heck is where people go who don’t believe in gosh.
~ Sign outside the Rock of Ages Baptist Church
The first time I laid eyes on Ti
mothy Hollingsworth, he was wearing a sheet. Not a Klan sheet with a hood, mind you, but more like something you’d pull off a Sealy Posturepedic. It was all bunched up on one side, leaving one of his shoulders bare. Not only that, his head was as smooth as a doorknob.
“Elizabeth, may I present my grandson, Timothy Hollings-worth.” Mrs. Tobias beamed at him so hard her face nearly cracked.
“How are you?” I said. I laid down my price gun and extended my hand, which he shook with one abrupt jerk. He didn’t say “hey” back.
Mavis and Attalee, who’d been stocking bottles of Shur Fine Hot Sauce, stopped in their tracks.
“I’ve told Timothy all about you, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Tobias said. “He’s been anxious to meet you.”
Timothy’s expression was blank, trancelike. He nodded and kept nodding, like one of those bobble-head puppy dogs that folks stick on their dashboards.
“I’ll be only a minute here, Timothy. Why don’t you wait in the car for me?” Mrs. Tobias said. She kissed him on the cheek and he swept out of the store like a big, white bird.
“Who was that, Jesus H. Christ?” Attalee demanded.
Mrs. Tobias smiled, beneficently. “I knew all of you would be curious about Timothy’s robe. It’s what he always wears. He’s a Buddhist.”
None of us could think of anything nice to say, so we didn’t say anything at all. Mavis patted the slight brush of a mustache above her upper lip, like she always does when she’s nervous.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. And I don’t be meaning to tell you what to do, but there are deprogrammers who can wipe clean all that garbage cults cram into young people’s minds. I saw it on 60 Minutes,” Mavis said.
“Buddhism is not a cult,” Mrs. Tobias replied curtly.
“She’s right, Mavis.” I didn’t have much formal learning, but I read a lot. “I’ve heard about Buddhism. Buddhists like to sit real still, and keep their minds blank, like an Etch A Sketch after it’s been shook up. It’s called meditation.”
Bet Your Bottom Dollar (The Bottom Dollar Series Book 1) Page 5
