by Lisa Smartt
Doug and Carlie: Matchmakers on a Mission
by Lisa Smartt
www.lisasmartt.com
Copyright 2014
ISBN 978-0-9914856-0-4
Front and back cover photo by Shutterstock
Copyright: Africa Studio
To Merry,
for being a true friend
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 CARLIE: Academy Awards, Here We Come
Chapter 2 CARLIE: Hollywood, Here We Come
Chapter 3 CARLIE: The Phone Call Every Human Being Dreads
Chapter 4 CARLIE: Look Out, Julia; Here Comes Ashley
Chapter 5 CARLIE: Rednecks and Red Carpet
Chapter 6 CARLIE: The Beauty and the Buick
Chapter 7 CARLIE: Tuxedos, Tacos, and Turning Corners
Chapter 8 CARLIE: You’ve Got a Friend
Chapter 9 CARLIE: Dan, Dan, Go Away
Chapter 10 CARLIE: Why Can’t Life Be a Hallmark Movie?
Chapter 11 CARLIE: Dusty and Clara’s Big News
Chapter 12 CARLIE: Ashley Comes to Town for the Shower (Yeah right)
Chapter 13 CARLIE: Apple Jacks and Second Chances
Chapter 14 CARLIE: The Great Escape
Chapter 15 DAVE: Beauty and the Brawler
Chapter 16 DAVE: Diners, Drive-Ins, and Divas
Chapter 17 DAVE: Jailhouse Revelations
Chapter 18 CARLIE: Sometimes Life Is Like A Bad Country Song
Chapter 19 CARLIE: Will, Mandy, and Molly…Oh My
Chapter 20 DAVE: Oh, to be a Leprechaun
Chapter 21 CARLIE: Where’s that Pot of Gold
Chapter 22 DAVE: Learning to Live in Cyber Space
Chapter 23 CARLIE: Beauty and the Banker…and Blake
Chapter 24 (FIVE MONTHS LATER) CARLIE: Homecoming
Chapter 25 CARLIE: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights
Chapter 26 CARLIE: Pass the Pork Rinds
Chapter 27 CARLIE: Barbecue Can’t Fix a Broken Heart
Chapter 28 CARLIE: The Mighty Have Fallen (And Maybe That’s a Good Thing)
Chapter 29 CARLIE: I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get
Chapter 30 DAVE: Thirty Days
Chapter 31 CARLIE: Aunt Charlotte’s Dating Advice (Only Valid in Desperation
Chapter 32 CARLIE: Ashley Ashley Ashley
Chapter 33 DAVE: Starting Over
Chapter 34 CARLIE: Home Sweet Hollywood
Chapter 35 DAVE: The Problem with Detox…is Detox
Chapter 36 CARLIE: Good Will Hunting
Chapter 37 DAVE: Visitation Day
Chapter 38 DAVE: Going Out on a Limb
Chapter 39 CARLIE: Here Comes Jason
Chapter 40 DAVE: Sunday
Chapter 41 CARLIE: Pass the Celebratory Pickles
Chapter 42 DAVE: Romance Recovery
Chapter 43 CARLIE: Homecoming with a side of Rusty Barn Nails
Chapter 44 CARLIE: California, Here I Come
Chapter 45 DAVE: Banking on Ben Peterson
Chapter 46 CARLIE: Dusty and Clara and Will and Mandy and Molly and Beauregard…Oh My
Chapter 47 DAVE: Who Needs E-Harmony when you have E-Interrogation?
Chapter 48 CARLIE: Tuesday Night Line-Up
Chapter 49 CARLIE: Go Get ‘Em, Girl
Chapter 50 DAVE: Today is not Just the Name of a TV Show
Chapter 51 DAVE: And the Winner Is…
Chapter 52 DAVE: In the Garden
Chapter 53 CARLIE: Matchmakers on a Mission
Chapter 54 DAVE: When Opportunity Knocks, Remind Me Not to Blow It
Chapter 55 CARLIE: It Was the Best of Times…It Was the Worst of Times
Chapter 56 DAVE: Is this Real or is it Memorex?
Chapter 57 CARLIE: Oscar Celebration: Redneck Version
Chapter 58 (TWO MONTHS LATER) DAVE: Florence in Early Spring
Chapter 59 CARLIE: Curtain Call
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter 1 CARLIE: Academy Awards, Here We Come
Despite the fact that I was the tallest, most awkward fourth grader alive, MeeMaw assured me I was destined for greatness after watching my performance as the aluminum-foil-covered Tin Man in Commerce Elementary School’s loose adaptation of The Wizard of Oz. She thought becoming a famous actor was a perfectly noble goal. Mama thought I’d be better off getting a formal education, learning how to trim the hedges correctly, and wearing sensible shoes.
My parents thought it was low-class and trivial to waste time watching movie stars pat each other on the back. But MeeMaw believed watching the Academy Awards every year was a sensible use of four hours. She once told me that Charlton Heston made her get weak in the knees. I later asked Mama what it meant to get weak in the knees. She made a huffing sound and said it was sacrilegious to say that about someone who was best known for playing Moses. So when it comes to Hollywood, I’d say I got a lot of mixed messages growing up.
But every year on Oscar night I walked across the street, sat on MeeMaw’s green plaid couch, wrapped myself in a purple crocheted afghan, and prepared for the festivities. MeeMaw always wore bright red lipstick on Oscar night even though some of the lipstick crawled up her nose. She made popcorn in an old black kettle and always had Coke for us to drink. We could drink as much as we wanted too and we got to drink it in the living room. Mama told us Coke would rot our teeth. But guess what? Our teeth never rotted which made me think that even though MeeMaw wasn’t a high school graduate, she was a lot smarter than her college-educated daughter.
Mama and Daddy were teachers and everyone in Commerce, Georgia, respected them greatly. For years I felt I was a grave disappointment to both of them because I didn’t become a teacher. I worked at the Dollar General Store in Commerce. Ten long years.
Then one day (well, over a period of months really), I became a famous writer. I met Matt Lauer and David Letterman and went to book signings in big cities. It was crazy. I even appeared on The View once. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise. But no matter. Just being there still seemed like a dream. Me. Famous. If only MeeMaw had lived long enough to see me hug Jay Leno. If only.
And tonight? Tonight I’ll be walking the red carpet at the Oscars. Me. Carlie from Commerce, Georgia. The Carlie who spent years stocking marshmallow creme and colored pencils. The Carlie who always carried an extra thirty pounds (or forty). Still does. The Carlie who wondered if anyone would ever love her. The Carlie who cried in sheer amazement the day someone did. And does. That Carlie.
I’d give anything for MeeMaw to be alive for just this one night. I’d wrap my arm in hers and we’d walk down that red carpet together. I wouldn’t care if her red lipstick was crawling up her nose. And she wouldn’t even care that I chose the sensible flats from the Shoe Shack in downtown Martin. She’d understand. I mean, I am 5’11 and heels always seem to be overkill. Plus, I hate feeling like my feet are pinched. And maybe, well, maybe I’m still a lot like that aluminum-foil-covered fourth grader. Awkward, but determined to make it work.
I probably need to back up this story a little. Years ago, when I was working at the Dollar General Store in Commerce, Georgia, a favorite customer, Mr. Rockford, gave me Doug’s business card and told me I should contact him. Doug was Mr. Rockford’s nephew and he lived almost eight hours from Commerce in a small town in West Tennessee. I knew from the beginning that Doug was one of those men who was out of my league. College graduate. Nice lookin’. Responsible bank loan officer. You know the kind. The kind who saves money, and gets the tires rotated on the car, and pays taxes in March rather than in April. The kind of guy who knows what percentage of
his income he’s spending on gasoline versus utility bills. That kind.
Miraculously, Doug was attracted to me. Really attracted. Passionately. In-love kind of attracted. Turns out men who know the percentage of their income they spend on utilities need funny loud flamboyant free-spirited women. And the big-butted deal that I thought was such a problem? Well, let’s just say for some men, it’s a blessing. Who could have known? While Doug and I were dating I became semi-famous as a writer. (That whole beautiful/not without struggle story is recorded in a book called Doug and Carlie.)
After we got married, most people took the semi off semi-famous because turns out people all over the world loved reading about an under-achieving chubby southern single woman. Again, who knew? My first book, A Single Woman’s Guide to Ordinary, turned into a best-seller and then was made into a movie. I’m not talking about an indie film made by students at UCLA either (no offense to indie film makers or the students of UCLA). I’m talking about a real film made by a real studio in Hollywood. Doug and I found the lead actress of the movie at a diner while we were visiting Hollywood. Crazy. (That whole story as well as an unbelievable matchmaking story starring my former roommate, Clara, is recorded in a book called Doug and Carlie’s Love Conspiracy.)
But today, well, today Doug and I are walking the red carpet at the Oscars because it turns out we were pretty good movie casters. Ashley Harrison, in her first feature film, has been nominated for Best Female Actor. I love Ashley’s story because it’s a lot like mine. She’s from Alabama and was working faithfully at a diner in Hollywood, hoping to be an actress. She had been in a few commercials, and was holding out hope for another commercial break. I think she would have jumped up and down if we had offered her a Pine-Sol commercial. And then a year later she was starring opposite Crystal Van Gogh in a major motion picture. I know. It makes me cry too. MeeMaw would have loved that story. And Ashley’s co-star, Matt Cooper, would have definitely made MeeMaw weak in the knees.
Doug and I have been married for three years and seven months now. We’ve lived that whole time in Sharon, Tennessee, and will probably live in Sharon the rest of our natural lives, regardless of the success of the books or movies. We’re blessed to live in the farmhouse where he was raised. When we travel all over the world, people act shocked that we didn’t move to some major metropolitan city. When they ask us what Sharon, Tennessee, is close to, we say, “Sidonia” or “Dresden” or “Greenfield.” You’d be surprised at the number of people who aren’t truthful enough to admit they have no idea where any of those places are. They nod with affirmation as though they’ve “summered” in Dresden or pulled their yacht up to the dock in Greenfield. They haven’t. The only people “summering” in Dresden, Tennessee, are the people who have “summered” there all their lives.
Doug and I have the most beautiful baby boy in the world. I know. People always say, “We have the most beautiful baby in the world.” But they don’t. Of course, I don’t just come up to people and tell them they don’t have the most beautiful baby. That would be rude. James is almost two and he has brown curly hair like Doug and beautiful green eyes like Doug. I just realized that maybe he’s so beautiful because he looks like Doug. And I’ve always thought he was beautiful. Still do. We named him after Doug’s dad who died of a sudden heart attack when he was only fifty-five.
Because our movie wasn’t nominated for any other Oscars, we didn’t get a lot of tickets. Ashley gets to come and bring someone. Doug and I can come because I wrote the book. But authors are never down on the floor with Tom Hanks or Steven Spielberg. They’re always up high somewhere because an author is never going to have to come on stage. And most people are probably glad the authors don’t get called to the stage, for fear they’ll rattle on about their fourth grade teacher and all the bad stories they wrote in high school. Some of our studio people are here because they’re on the inside track of all things Hollywood. And they probably won’t be wearing shoes from the Shoe Shack either. They “summer” in places other than where they were born.
Ashley is bringing her mama tonight because that’s what a good unmarried southern girl would do. I mean, it’s the Oscars. This isn’t the time for Rent-A-Date. Her mama loved her before she was famous and that’s way better than some silly Hollywood man who might love her because she is famous.
Chapter 2 CARLIE: Hollywood, Here We Come
Even though a lot of our friends and family weren’t invited to the actual Oscar ceremony, that didn’t mean they couldn’t come to California for all the goings on related to Oscar night. Doug and I flew several Tennessee friends and family members to California for the big party because Ashley has become part of our family during these last three years. And we always support family members whether they’re up for an Academy Award or whether they’re in the Weakley County 4-H speech contest. It’s no matter to us. We take care of those we love. So Doug and I are throwing a party for Ashley and her Alabama family and our family too. My mom and dad, who still live in Commerce, Georgia, insisted on paying for their own plane tickets. That wasn’t surprising seeing as how they never even let Doug pick up the tab at Steak ‘n Shake. Some people are just too proud for their own good.
But Doug’s Uncle Bart and Aunt Charlotte were more than happy to receive the gift. Only one little problem. They’ve never flown. When we told them we wanted them to fly to a party in support of Ashley, Uncle Bart said, “I’m all for a party and you know we both like that Ashley real good. But I ain’t never left the ground nor do I intend on leavin’ the ground ‘till Jesus comes.” That seemed like a pretty permanent declaration. Aunt Charlotte chimed in, “And I heard them airport people make you take off your shoes. That’s embarrassing for an old woman with hammer toes.”
I know. It seems like we would try to reason with Uncle Bart and Aunt Charlotte, right? It seems like we would say, “Uncle Bart, it’s much safer to fly than drive. Aunt Charlotte, the TSA people aren’t even looking at your feet. They don’t care about your hammer toes.” But that would be a complete waste of effort. We just agreed to buy them one of those bus tickets that will take them all through America. Aunt Charlotte said she had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon and could they stop there on their way to California? Uncle Bart said he’d seen big holes when he was coal mining in Virginia and didn’t need to see another one. He also asked who would take care of their dogs, chickens, cats, and coon. Doug’s cousin, Michelle, agreed to take care of the animals saying that just the thought of Uncle Bart and Aunt Charlotte at a Hollywood party brought enough entertainment to make taking care of a house coon worth all the trouble.
Our dear friends, Dusty and Clara, were happy to reveal their feet to the TSA in order to come to a party honoring Ashley’s accomplishment. Dusty agreed to let the guys at his mechanic shop run the business for three days and Clara took a few personal days from her second grade class to make her first trip to California. She promised all the kids she’d bring back a big palm branch from California, not realizing there was probably some state-to-state ordinance against it and that it probably wouldn’t fit in the overhead bin of a Delta flight.
Our dearest friend is Dave Robertson. He was married to Doug’s cousin, Shannon, for several years. He has a beautiful three-year-old son, Collin. We knew it would be miserable trying to convince Dave to take a few days off to come to California. But we remained vigilant. Doug talked to him several times. I sent encouraging e-mails. We asked family members to volunteer to keep Collin so he could take a few days off and make the trip. In fact, we began to wonder if maybe this entire party we were throwing for Ashley wasn’t for Ashley at all. It was for Dave. For some much-needed rest. Healing. New beginnings.
Chapter 3 CARLIE: The Phone Call Every Human Being Dreads
You know that call every person dreads. We got that call one year, three months, and five days ago. I still remember every detail.
Our son, James, had been sick and Doug and I hadn’t slept well for days. We were arguing about whether we
should take him to the doctor the next morning. I thought we should and Doug thought he’d been on too many antibiotics lately, and we should let him rest at home. It was 11:15 at night and we had just eaten popcorn and watched the last part of a really dumb Jim Carrey movie, when the phone rang.
Doug fell to his knees right there on the kitchen floor. He rubbed his curly hair back and forth with his left hand and just said, “No, no, no. We’re leaving right now. We’ll be there in a few hours.” One of the church members from Dave’s church had called to tell us the news. Shannon and Dave had gone to a concert in Nashville and on the way home, Dave fell asleep, and in one moment, one unguarded moment, he ran off the road and hit a tree. They declared Shannon dead in the Emergency Room.
Dave and Shannon had lost a lot of sleep as Collin had just gotten over a particularly nasty bout with pneumonia. They’d adopted Collin two years earlier in the most miraculous way. Emily, one of the people I met at the movie studio, had given birth to a beautiful baby and had placed the baby with Dave and Shannon for adoption. Collin was the answer to years of praying. Dave and Shannon were delirious and ran around Chattanooga as though they had won the lottery.
When I gave birth to James, we did that thing all best friends do. We pretended our sons would be best friends forever. We’d say things like, “When they room together at college, we’ll go to parents’ weekend and embarrass them by showing their baby pictures.” You know, stuff like that. We had just been in Chattanooga for Collin’s second birthday party. Even though Shannon looked like Jennifer Lopez, and Collin looked like a blonde, blue-eyed Nordic baby…well, no one questioned who his mama was. We all knew. Who could have known that the family picture Doug took of the three of them holding up the bulldozer cake would be their last family picture. Ever. Dave, Shannon, and Collin were living the American dream. But in one fatal moment, the dream died.
