Contemporary Women's Fiction: Agnes Hopper Shakes Up Sweetbriar (Humorous Women's Fiction)

by Carol Heilman

  The sheriff shut his knife with a snap.

  If he reaches for his hat, I’m done for. But he seemed to be in no hurry.

  “Miss Johnson has listed her grievances against me. Now it’s time to tell what we people of Sweetbriar Manor have determined that she ought to be held accountable for. Some of her actions don’t square with the Ten Commandments; some don’t even measure up to human morality.”

  I stopped to gulp some tea. All eyes were on me. The accused squirmed like a child with ants in her pants. The sheriff took out a notepad and started scribbling. Betty Jo appeared to be holding her breath, but Smiley and the rest of the gang? They were the ones grinning now, all over themselves.

  I named the people, one by one, and told either things they had revealed to me or things I had observed for myself, beginning with Pearl.

  “Pearl’s soul is as fragile as a butterfly. She lives in fear of being tied to her bed at night if she’s not good. She’s an artist, but has little money left to buy any supplies because her rent money has doubled since she came here a few months ago. Why? Because this woman in charge thought she could get away with it. She’s a bully at the very least.”

  Betty Jo gasped, her face white as cotton. Miss Johnson looked ill enough to have a stroke. The sheriff scribbled like mad. I guess he didn’t trust William’s tape recorder.

  “And then there’s Alice. We’re speaking for her since she can’t speak for herself, and she was afraid to when she could. Why? Because she was an alcoholic. Miss Johnson forced her to go cold turkey as soon as she moved in. Alice hoarded tiny sleeping pills everywhere she could, because they were her only salvation—that and her writings. When we cleaned out her room, we found, among other things, an envelope with five hundred dollars cash. She had a purpose for that money, but it disappeared. William has the envelope as evidence, rescued from the recycle bin. And that’s not all. Alice had marked her money with an A in the bottom right-hand corner. I predict that money is still on the premises somewhere.”

  The Sheriff looked up long enough to glance at Miss Johnson. Did I detect a hint of sympathy in that glance? Did he still think I didn’t have a lick of sense in my head?

  But the residents of Sweetbriar Manor stared at the woman as if they had just discovered a war criminal living among us. Everyone knew she was mean and treated us with no respect, but all this was way beyond anything most of us had imagined.

  Prissy tried to get control of the situation. Her face was bright red and she looked ready to erupt. She stood and slammed her hand on the table in front of her. “That’s … that’s simply not true! None of it.”

  “I’m not finished,” I said. “There’s more.”

  “Sit down, Miss Johnson,” the sheriff said.

  She sank into her chair like a deflated balloon.

  “Then there’s Lollipop. His sister brings him a new box of suckers every month. She leaves them with Miss Johnson because the residents can’t have candy in their rooms. All well and good, but he has to pay this woman every time he runs out, in order to get more.”

  Gasps sounded all around the room. I don’t think anyone suspected Lollipop had to pay for his own suckers.

  “There’s more,” I said, “but maybe some others would like a chance to speak.”

  Hands shot up. The sheriff pointed to William.

  “Lollipop’s not the only one has to pay extra for things. This place is supposed to provide basic cable and Internet service for no extra charge. Well, let’s just say this has been another way Miss Johnson has been adding to her bank account. Every month since I’ve been here, she’s upped the price and threatened to cancel the service if I refused to pay. If she did it to me, I’m sure there are others.”

  By now the sheriff was chewing on his bottom lip.

  When William sat, Smiley stood and looked around the room. “At first I thought Miss Johnson was a godsend, maybe even an angel. Nightmares can be a terrible thing—haunting images of the past, don’tcha know—that won’t leave you alone. You’re afraid to close your eyes at night. She gave me something to help me sleep, but after a while they didn’t help, so she gave me double. I slept, but then I started getting fuzzy-headed during the day, unsteady on my feet and feeling all shaky inside. Now I crave those pills. Can’t sleep without them. Expensive too, and the cost keeps climbing. That’s what she’s done to me.”

  Smiley sat down, tears flowing down his face. I rushed over with a clean hanky since he was having trouble finding one. I gave him a hug and returned to my seat.

  Betty Jo and Henry looked totally dumbfounded.

  The sheriff grabbed his hat. “I believe I’ve heard enough—for now.”

  “Wait.” Shirl stood and faced the sheriff. “When you’re ready to really dig into things, check the beauty shop books. I think they been cooked.”

  Murmurs and mumblings rose louder and louder. Miss Johnson looked like a mouse caught in a trap.

  “Hold on,” the sheriff said, trying to quiet the gathering. “Every one of you will have your say—in time. More arrests are being made now as we speak.”

  More arrests? Whose? Now he had everyone’s full attention.

  “I’m not allowed to reveal everything, but I can tell you the Snoddy brothers, and their funeral home, have been under federal investigation for some time. Now we can see a link between them and the shenanigans going on here. I appreciate your help, Miss Agnes. Be ready to testify, as I’m sure all of you will be.” He turned to face the nurse. I had forgotten she was there. “And that includes you, Mrs. Taylor.”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “I’ll be happy to testify,” she whispered. “I was just trying to keep my job.”

  Sheriff Cawood walked over to Miss Johnson, who now stood against the kitchen door with a look of stark terror on her face. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice, but we could all hear him. “You can come with me and walk out of here without giving me any trouble, or I can clamp these cuffs on you, and we’ll go out that way. It’s up to you.”

  She raised her chin, gave us her most scathing look, and led the way out of the dining room, out of Sweetbriar Manor, and down to the street where the sheriff’s cruiser waited. We all gathered on the porch and watched them go. My heart grieved for Ida Mae because her daughter had not even told her good-bye as she sat on the porch and watched her daughter be taken away.

  As soon as the car doors slammed, Shirl said, “Lands sake, look at the time. I’ve got to get dinner started.” She and Jack hurried inside amid hugs and back-slapping and more hugs all around.

  Betty Jo said, “Mother, thank goodness we have you a room at Sunny Side. We’ll get busy and pack your things. No need for you to stay here another night. Besides, now that there’s no one to run this place, I would imagine it will be closed soon.”

  “Nope,” Smiley said before I could answer. “That was one of my phone calls. The head honchos are comin’ tomorrow. We’ll have a temporary administrator until they can find a permanent one. I didn’t know if they would believe all I had to tell ’em, but they said Sheriff Cawood had already called.”

  “You mean that man believed me after all?”

  “Yep, he sure enough did.”

  “Well,” Betty Jo said. “Even if Sweetbriar Manor isn’t shut down, that nice retirement home in Berea is expecting you. You’re going to love it there.”

  “That’s what you said about this place,” I said with a huff.

  If looks could kill … I would have been dead on the spot.

  “I’m not going to Sunny Dale or Sunny Slopes, or whatever it’s called.”

  Now I had my daughter’s attention, and she was speechless. I jumped right in before she could gather her wits. “I’m moving, but not there. I’ve put money down on a small house not far from here. Signed a six-month lease with an option to buy.” That was stretching the truth a little, but the good Lord would surely forgive me, under the circumstances.

  Betty Jo grabbed her heart and Henry�
�s mouth fell open. He recovered first. “Do you think that was wise, Mother Hopper?”

  “That’s the most foolish thing you’ve ever done,” my daughter sputtered. “Fool hearty, foolish, and plain stupid.”

  “Thank you, dear, I can always count on you to back me up.”

  Her jaw dropped down, and she seemed to be at a loss for words, thank the Lord.

  One look around the porch told me who was missing. She had not come to the meeting—which I didn’t think she would—but I should have gone to get her as soon as it was over and Miss Johnson had been taken away.

  “I’ve got to find Pearl. Betty Jo, you and Henry help me look.”

  “Me too,” Smiley said.

  I gave each person a place to search. “We’ll meet in the garden by the fountain in ten minutes. Hopefully, she isn’t wandering around somewhere lost and scared. If we don’t find her soon, I’m calling the sheriff.”

  We all hurried off in different directions. Everyone—even nurse Taylor—joined in the search for Pearl. When we met in the garden, no one had found her. Then I heard a whimper, like a small, frightened child. The sound was coming from the footpath over on the vacant lot next door. I ran through the weeds and nearly stumbled over her huddled in the middle of the path.

  “She’s here! She’s here!” I hollered.

  William and Jack came running and managed to get Pearl back to the house. Our nurse checked her out. She didn’t seem to have any injuries, but she was totally confused and couldn’t tell us what she was doing or where she was headed. Betty Jo brought her some hot tea while I kept reassuring her that Miss Johnson would not be back—ever.

  My dear, forever friend stared at me with wide eyes and a child-like trust. Right then I knew I could never leave her. Pearl couldn’t function out in the world, not now and maybe not ever. My heart yearned for the little yellow house with an almost-perfect yard for Miss Margaret, but now I realized it was more necessary for me to take care of Pearl than to move into that house and think about nobody but myself.

  I took Pearl’s hand in mine and convinced her to join me on the porch. As we walked, I told her all I had been thinking, not realizing Betty Jo, Henry, and Smiley were listening. As soon as Pearl was settled, miracles of all miracles, Ida Mae floated over in her flimsy nightgown, sat down beside Pearl, and took her hand. Those two ladies—who had probably seen the most abuse—were now consoling each other.

  “Don’t that beat all,” Henry said.

  Juanita joined our little gathering. “Miss Agnes, I have a question.”

  Betty Jo reached over and took Frankie, then settled into a rocker. She entertained him by singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

  “Now that beats all,” I said to Henry. He agreed.

  Juanita put her arm around my shoulder. “When you found out Alice’s money was gone, you used your own, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t mind. It was way more fun than garage sales. Besides, I’ll bet I get it back. Our sheriff might be slow sometimes to see the light, but he’s an honest man.”

  “Don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you enough, Miss Agnes, me and little Frankie.” Juanita gave me a squeeze and then went to sit with Pearl and Ida Mae as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  My heart did a flip as I looked around at the group gathered on the porch of this big lavender house. In only a week, these people had become my friends—my family—and they needed me. Strange thing was … I needed them too. Charlie was surely smiling down in approval. After all, he said I would make a passel of new friends and, even though I hated to admit it, he was right—as usual.

  My mind whirled as I thought about everything that had happened in the past few days. There were a lot of unanswered questions. What would happen to Miss Johnson and the others she was in cahoots with? Why had Alice insisted we contact a certain lawyer when she passed? And what would happen to poor Ida Mae with her daughter in jail?

  The future was uncertain for all of us, but maybe that’s how life is supposed to be.

  Smiley interrupted my thoughts when he took my hand and squeezed it. When he turned his face toward mine, those big brown eyes that could melt a rock looked deep into mine … and I felt like I had come home.

  “Let’s go see if we can lend Shirl a hand,” I said. “Maybe shuck some corn.”

  And so we did.

  Epilogue

  Three days later, Alice’s funeral was as lovely and hope-filled as a spring day. Afterwards, back in the dining room, Smiley joined me by the punch bowl filled with foamy lime sherbet. He was busy working on his second piece of chocolate cake, but he sat it down long enough to hand me a framed poem. “She wanted you to have it,” he said.

  I held it close and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Perfect for the shelf by my door.”

  “Her service was a comfort,” he said. “Almost like her spirit was right there with us don’tcha know.”

  I nodded and patted his shoulder. “She planned every detail so, in fact, she was.”

  Pearl joined us, sporting more than her usual jewelry. She wore one of Alice’s hats, the sequined red satin with one red plume on the side.

  “That hat looks stunning on you,” I said.

  She visibly relaxed and all traces of worry vanished from her face. I offered her a cup of punch. When she took it from me, our fingers touched, but she didn’t flinch or pull away like I expected. Encouraged, I said, “You know, there’s a new hobby shop up town, next door to Henry’s Western Auto. Would you like to go? They’re sure to have all kinds of art supplies.”

  For a moment Pearl looked confused, and I held my breath. When she answered, my heart did a little jig.

  “Okay, Pumpkin Head, let’s do it.”

  The smile that stretched across her face made her look so much like my old high school friend that my heart threatened to burst. This time I couldn’t contain myself. I reached out and hugged her. She stiffened for a few seconds, then returned my hug with a little giggle. Things were looking up. In my excitement, and not wanting to lose the momentum, I said, “Let’s put on some comfy shoes and go shopping. You go on. I’ll knock on your door in fifteen minutes.”

  Later that afternoon, after a most wonderful trip into town with my best friend, the peace I had been enjoying shattered into a thousand pieces. Like Chicken Little I wanted to shout, The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

  Two men arrived in shiny polyester suits. William said they looked like FBI to him, but they said they came from corporate headquarters. They shook hands with the sheriff, asked for a pitcher of water, and opened leather briefcases. They shuffled papers and declared Miss Johnson innocent. That was totally unexpected. They were either blind or as crooked as she was.

  I didn’t see their next declaration coming either. The tall, skinny one proposed dropping Sweetbriar Manor entirely from their holdings of “five outstanding retirement homes across the south”—his words, not mine. After that, all I heard was static.

  When they left with a nod and a bow, the sheriff followed close behind. His face looked wrinkled with worry. Our dining table group, plus William, huddled together. Pearl had not joined us, and this time I was glad she was absent.

  “What did they mean?” I asked. “Sell The Manor? Whatever will we do?”

  The next day, more rumors flew like scattered thunderstorms. Word had it that Miss Johnson was ready to testify against someone to save her own skin. Not the Snoddy brothers, and not the owners of Sweetbriar Manor, but some big shot in the banking business. At least she had asked the sheriff to make sure her mother was looked after until she could return.

  Return? Surely the judge wouldn’t grant her a pardon.

  Sheriff Cawood appointed Juanita as Ida Mae’s temporary caregiver. “I’m not sure how she’ll get paid until this messy case is settled. Maybe you folks could start a fundraiser of some sort. At least she can live here rent free until other arrangements can be made.”

  With that suggestion,
Shirl sprang into action and put a quart jar in the beauty shop. Our free manicures would now require a donation of at least a dollar. Lil surprised me and put in ten.

  After that, everyone decided to work as a team. We put jars everywhere. Pearl would paint flowers on tiny canvases. I planned to knit bookmarks. Lollipop agreed to part with some of his suckers—at least a dozen—if he could sell them one at a time. Lil was willing to play the piano whenever anyone asked—if the price was right. I wondered how long this would work since nearly every resident at Sweetbriar Manor lived on a fixed income.

  Henry suggested we close Main Street and have a pig race with Miss Margaret as the mascot. We talked the race to death, but finally gave up on that idea.

  It was Betty Jo who saved the day. “Let’s throw an open house,” she said while she and I helped Shirl dry the breakfast dishes. We stopped our drying and looked at each other.

  Shirl spoke first. “Yes, it’s perfect timing. Under new management. How about strawberry cake? And we’ll have to have something chocolate and …”

  “Let’s finish up here and work on the menu and the date,” I said.

  Shirl clattered her handful of silverware onto the counter. “Shoot. Why wait? I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. Let’s get started.”

  Betty Jo rushed off to call her women’s club fundraising chairman. “Mildred will get the whole club involved. She’s gifted that way.”

  My mind was in a whirl, but a happy one. This was sure to be a win-win situation. The people of and around Sweetbriar would see that Sweetbriar Manor was not a place for crazy old people, and we could sell our paintings, our bookmarks, our … no telling what that we didn’t know about yet, and Francesca could play the piano through it all—with a tip jar nearby, of course.

  By the next morning we had the event planned and even had an announcement written for the Timely News. By noon we got word that Sweetbriar Manor would remain open and a new director was on his way. The sheriff assured us the man came highly recommended, but he would keep his eyes open—just in case.