Her wide, gap-toothed grin told me she did.
“I think I have a pack of gum in my car. You want a stick?”
Pigtails slapped all around her head when she shook it. “Cain’t be seen on t’other side of the cottages. Maw would take a willow switch to me lickety-split if she was to hear of me talking to you.”
“It’s all right. I won’t tell. And tell your momma I’m sure someone will be needing her help very soon. I’ll be talking to the good Lord, too. Betcha it won’t be long until the Stardust is back in business.”
She nodded, the spark back in her eyes. I extended my hand and took her small, rough one in mine. “Happy to meet you, Merciful. You run on home now before your momma starts to worry.”
[ CHAPTER 5 ]
Merciful turned and ran toward Zion, her feet slapping the ground with a happy sound. She was just a speck on the horizon when she slipped into the trees, the pine branches swallowing her in an instant. My heart went out to her, but if what she said was true, Doreen and Paddy had shut the place up. Disappeared, it seemed, although I was sure there was an explanation. Still, it left a hollow spot in me, too, and I regretted not keeping up with their lives. I turned and started toward my car, then stopped when I saw Sonny Bolander pull up and hang his head out the window.
“Georgia, what the devil are you doing out here?”
I breezed up to him. “I could ask the same of you. But the truth is, I noticed all the weeds the day of O’Dell’s funeral, and I realized I hadn’t visited with Doreen and Paddy in a while. Any idea what’s going on?”
“Matter of fact, I came out this way to check on the place. Make sure nothin’s disturbed. The ol’ feller passed last night.”
“Paddy? He died?” My insides flipped, leaving me weak. I steadied myself with a hand on the sheriff’s car.
“Cancer got him. He put up quite a fight. I heard this morning the funeral’s Wednesday over to the Methodist church.”
“Oh, gracious. I had no idea. He was my great-uncle, you know.” And the man, according to Merciful in her tattered dress.
“Yes’m, reckon I forgot that. Been awhile since you been out here, then?”
“Too long. Aunt Cora used to have a fit when I sneaked over here as a child. Bad blood or something. Probably some long-forgotten feud like the Montagues and the Capulets.”
“I don’t know nothing about your Louisiana relations if that’s what you’re referring to, but I do know a thing or two about crossing your aunt Cora.”
Inwardly, I smiled. Sheriff Bolander knew his job inside and out, but he didn’t know Shakespeare from a poke in the eye. And part of his job was to know all the goings-on in Mayhaw, so I asked where I might find Doreen.
“They’ve been staying with her sister, Rue Ann Pitts. Over on Jefferson Street.”
I thanked him and waited until he drove off before heading back toward Sally’s to pick up Avril. Maybe the Stardust sign had beckoned me because Doreen needed my help. Being newly widowed, we certainly had plenty of grief to share, and helping her with the Stardust might be just the thing to keep me occupied until I sorted out my life.
Hazel Morton waved from her front porch where she was busy sweeping. I returned the wave and made a mental note to return her potato salad bowl—the one she brought to the house as part of the bereavement parade of food. While I was at it, I should bake an angel food cake for Doreen and her sister.
Two blocks from Main Street, I passed Dickie Mingo on his bicycle. He was eighty if he was a day and still peddling down to the Sweet Shoppe for a bacon and tomato sandwich every day at noon.
Noon already? I had no idea I’d been gone so long.
I pressed on the foot feed and sped over to State Street to Sally’s home. She lived five houses down from Aunt Cora in a bright yellow plantation house—one that her in-laws’ oil money had preserved and kept in grand style. From the day her in-laws moved to Houston and left her and Hudson in charge of the house, Sally had slipped into being Mayhaw’s mistress of philanthropy as easy as pulling on a pair of kid gloves.
She met me at the front door and waved me back to the sunroom, where she’d fed lunch to Avril and Nelda Rae and set a place for the two of us.
“You must be parched. Want some mint tea? I was hoping you’d come along and try out this new chicken salad recipe I’m serving for the Magnolias next week.”
I took the tea from her. “You’re a lifesaver, and I’m glad to be the guinea pig for your garden club. Matter of fact, I’m starved.” Avril slipped onto my lap and lifted her ketchup-smeared face to mine.
“Miss Sally let me put ketchup on my cheese sandwich.”
“That was nice. Have you and Nelda Rae had a good time?”
“We watched Howdy Doody.”
“Cowabunga!” Nelda Rae shouted with a mouthful of applesauce, which dribbled down her chin.
Sally chided her. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. And if you girls are finished, run out and play. Remember, stay in the shade. Don’t want you catching any infantile paralysis, you hear?”
When the girls had gone, she settled into the wicker seat and raised her glass. “To summertime. Remember when our only concerns were catching crawdads and making our daily trip down to Marley’s for an ice-cream cone? Now, every time you turn a corner, there’s talk of a new case of polio.”
“It is the season. Vigilance, Aunt Cora says. But how can you be vigilant about something that comes out of nowhere?”
She shuddered. “They’re even showing those horrible clips at the movies. Kids on crutches. Spooky shadows that, I swan, have me looking over my shoulder and making the kids do the chin touch to see if their necks are still screwed on straight.” She bobbed her head forward, touching it to her chest, her hoop earrings dancing against her olive complexion as she demonstrated.
“It’s not like you to be such a worrier, Sally.”
“Hud’s cousin’s girl down in Houston just came down with it. No earthly idea where it came from. One minute they think she has influenza. The next her legs have gone spastic, her neck is stiff, and she’s lost her wits. It’s scaring the tar out of me. Let’s pray we don’t get an outbreak here.”
I raised my own glass. “Amen.” The summer disease. The crippler. There were worse things than losing a husband. It could be one of my own girls.
Sally shuddered. “What am I thinking? You’ve got the world on your shoulders, and I’m carrying on about something that, Lord willing, we’ll never see.” She flicked a black curl away from her face. “So, tell me, how is Mary Frances?”
For a moment I had to think back. It seemed like days had passed since I’d seen her, but as Sally waited, waving a carrot stick at me, I shrugged. “You know Mary Frances. She’ll be okay.”
Sally snorted. “We both know Mary Frances will never be okay. So you’ve been over there all morning?”
I nibbled a corner of the chicken salad sandwich. “Mmmm. This is delicious. What did you do different? Is that pineapple I’m tasting?”
“No, it’s not pineapple. Surely Mary Frances hasn’t held you captive all this time? Trust me, Georgia, you are going to have to break gently from her. It’s time for you both to move on.”
“It’s not as easy as you think. I feel I’m being pulled in too many directions at once. Mary Frances. The girls. And now Aunt Cora wants us to move in with her.”
Sally’s eyebrows arched like a cat’s back. “You’re not seriously considering it, are you?”
“No, but let’s face it, I don’t have many options. Get a job waiting tables at Ruby’s. Move in with Aunt Cora. Or follow Bobby Carl Applegate’s suggestion and sing at the Grand Ole Opry.”
Sally burst out laughing. “Leave it to Bobby Carl. He’s been pining for you forever. Has he asked you out yet?”
“Good grief. Even he’s got brains enough to know how far that would get him.”
“I’ll give him a month.”
I took another bite of my sandwich. “Are you sure there’s
no pineapple in here?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I put mandarin oranges in it. Do you think the Magnolias will like it?”
“I’m sure they will. It’s delicious.”
Sally lowered her head and placed her well-manicured hand over mine. “Forget the chicken salad. Tell me, how are you? The shock of O’Dell walking out, then him drowning—”
I held up my hand. “Hey, I’m through crying over O’Dell. Not only did he leave me without any means of support, but I found a life insurance policy in his briefcase with her name on it.”
“Her, as in the woman he was stupid enough to leave you for? Was it someone you know?”
I shook my head. “Fiona Callahan. I can only imagine what kind of person she is. One with plenty of wiles, apparently, if he’d take out an insurance policy with her as the beneficiary.” The self-pity I’d told myself I wouldn’t wallow in rose up like a phantom. I swallowed to keep it at bay, but tears sprang to my eyes.
Sally reached a bejeweled hand across the table to me. “Hey, you don’t have to be brave on my account.”
I drew my lips into a tight pose. “Thanks, Sal, but dang it, I’m sick of thinking about it day in and day out. I need to do something to get my mind off O’Dell, and crying all the time’s pathetic and weak. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well, the Magnolias can always use your help.”
“I’m not society material. Just because you and Hudson are swimming in dough—”
“Is that what you think? The Magnolias are a bunch of rich girls? Nu-uh-uh. Georgia, I love you more than all the china in my cupboards and half as much as your sweet girls, but I swear you jump to conclusions faster than a cricket with its tail on fire.”
“I do not jump to conclusions. And crickets don’t have tails… do they?”
We burst out laughing and spent the rest of the afternoon giggling like old times. It was medicine for my weary spirit, but when it was time to pick Rosey up from school, I wasn’t an inch closer to knowing how I would take care of my girls. Or even where to start.
A phone call from Hugh Salazar, attorney-at-law, changed all that.
[ CHAPTER 6 ]
I’d known Hugh Salazar for as long as I could remember. When he wasn’t working on a case, he drank coffee and ate snickerdoodles at the counter of the Sweet Shoppe two doors down from his office. Not a lot of crimes are committed in Mayhaw, but Hugh was considered the best if you needed his services for a will, a contract, or a sticky divorce. He handled Aunt Cora’s affairs, and I say that tongue in cheek as he was one of the most frequent of her gentlemen callers at Mara Lee on State Street. Dark and handsome, his ominous presence in my life scared the bejesus out of me. But he wasn’t intimidating enough to keep me from showing up at his office every year on the anniversary of my grandfather’s death to ask if he’d heard from my parents.
The year I was ten and had saved up twelve dollars from delivering the Mayhaw Messenger for Mr. Wardlaw, I went to him and asked him to hire a private investigator.
“My parents’ names are Gordon and Justine Mackey, and the last place we lived was Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. I want you to have someone find them and give me an explanation of why they left me and when they’re coming back to fetch me. A person should know, don’tcha think?”
“I know what their names were, Georgia. Justine was in my graduating class. I’ll tell you one thing, you didn’t get your pretty face from her.” He stroked the dark shadow of whiskers on his chin and looked at me over the top of his wire spectacles. “And twelve dollars wouldn’t be enough to get a private eye halfway across Texas. Your momma had her reasons, and you best give it up and concentrate on getting yourself out of the sixth grade.”
“Fifth. I’m only in the fifth. Old enough to learn the truth, even if it ain’t pretty.”
“You best not let your aunt Cora hear you say ain’t, or she’ll be having you write ‘I won’t say ain’t’ five hundred times.”
I remembered huffing up my shoulders and glaring at him. “If you know the reasons, then I’ll give you the money and you can just tell me. ’Twould be the Christian thing for you to do, if you ask me.”
He ruffled my hair and said, “You got the spunk, missy. Best be putting it to use on your schoolbooks.” And then he ushered me out the door and slipped me a nickel. “Go have yourself some ice cream now.”
Each year I dreamed up a new excuse to ask Mr. Salazar to help me find my parents, and sure as the sun sets over Hixon Bayou, he evaded me. The last time I’d asked him was two weeks before my marriage to O’Dell. And that time he’d called me into his office.
He set me down and lit up a cigar. “Georgia, I’ve been like a father to you, guiding you whenever I saw the opportunity—”
“All you’ve ever done is avoid my questions and pat me on the head. I could’ve used some fatherly advice now and then, but all my life I’ve wanted to know one thing and one thing only. Why did my parents leave me?”
He blew smoke in the air, and I knew then he was thinking up another excuse not to answer me. Instead, when the smoke thinned and my patience had gotten even thinner, he leaned over. “I asked you here for two reasons. One: Why in the name of thunder are you marrying O’Dell Peyton? I thought you had better sense. You could go to secretary school or even the University of Texas if you wanted. Instead, you’re marrying a boy with no more ambition than to run his daddy’s fishing boat up and down the bayou—”
“What may seem like idle fishing to you is O’Dell’s way of planning his future. He has his sights set on bigger things. You don’t know him like I do.”
“And how’s that, Georgia?” He picked up the cigar and leaned back. “Please don’t tell me you’re in a family way.”
The look on my face gave him the answer. I was eighteen years old and almost five months pregnant. I’d been dating O’Dell my senior year, and what I’d done was stupid, no doubt.
“He loves me and told me nothing would happen if it was my first time.”
“I take back what I said earlier. O’Dell has two sterling qualities: fishing the bayou and he’s a cockamamie salesman.”
His tone dripped with sarcasm, but I leaned over and looked him in the eye. “You said you asked me here for two reasons. You’ve stated your dismay at my upcoming marriage. So be it. What was the other reason?”
“You didn’t allow me to elaborate before you jumped in with your accusation of why I wouldn’t tell you about your parents. If you’re old enough to be married—and I have doubts, my dear—then perhaps it’s time to tell you what I know of Justine and Gordon Mackey.”
The oxygen in the room fled, swallowed up by the cigar smoke and the great hunks of it I’d inhaled, leaving me now with a head that swam with dizziness and a heart that galloped like a racehorse through my chest. My spine straightened, and I waited.
Mr. Salazar was no doubt amused as he waved his fingers through the air and said, “By last count, Justine is wanted in three states for failure to appear after being charged with drunk driving. Her husband, Gordon, whom you call Father, has been divorced from Justine for twelve years. If my calculations are correct, that would put the demise of their marriage around the same time as your arrival in Mayhaw. His whereabouts are unknown.”
The possibilities piled one upon another in my head. Alcohol, divorce, skipping from one state to another. The fairy tale of one day being reunited with them in a clapboard bungalow with a tire swing in the front yard had screeched to a terrible halt. Aunt Cora’s declarations that my momma had done me a favor by dropping me off in Mayhaw settled over me like the final pounding of a judge’s gavel. My destiny had never been mine to choose. Aside from getting myself in a family way, as Mr. Salazar put it.
And that was the thought uppermost in my mind the day Hugh Salazar’s call came. Since O’Dell’s family used Skaggs Whiting as their attorney, I discerned Hugh’s call had nothing to do with O’Dell. When he asked me to come in at ten the following morning, I asked what was goin
g on.
“Now, Georgia, I don’t cotton to talking on the phone regarding legal matters. Get your pretty self down here in the morning.”
Obviously, Aunt Cora was up to something. What, I couldn’t imagine, but it would be like her to take matters into her own hands and ask Hugh to give me a job out of pity. Being the state typing champion my junior year hardly gave me credentials, but what else it could be escaped me.
Hugh jumped up and pumped my hand when I went into his office, then leaned across the desk and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you, Georgia. You know Mrs. Palmer, I believe.” And in a grand gesture he held out his hand to Doreen Palmer.
Heat engulfed my face. Embarrassment over not calling on her in so long. And in the tizzy of worrying over being summoned to Hugh’s office, I’d not even baked the cake I meant to take to her in consolation over Paddy’s passing. At least my manners took over, and I went to her and leaned over, gave her a kiss on her soft cheek.
“I’m so sorry about Paddy.” Tears brimmed to the surface, but through the blur in my eyes, I could see her smile through deep lines of age and sorrow.
“He was a fighter, I’ll give him that.”
I tried to swallow, but shame and grief choked me. “You must think I’m awful. Not calling or bringing the girls by.” My nose ran along with a new surge of tears.
“Don’t you be fretting. Gracious, you’ve had your hands full, and losing your own husband to boot. I couldn’t even make it to O’Dell’s funeral. Tell me, how was it?”
I sniffed and blinked my eyes, trying to gain some control. Hugh handed me a handkerchief, and when I looked up to thank him, he nailed me with a look of stone.
“Thanks.” I blew my nose and willed myself to calm down.
Hugh cleared his throat. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
I scooted the empty chair closer to Doreen, took a deep breath, and dropped into the seat.
Hugh, however, remained standing, a document in his hand. “We’re here today at Doreen’s request. Paddy, as you are aware, passed away—rest his soul—and upon his being of sound mind and body when this instrument was established, this is his last will and testament.”
Stardust: A Novel Page 4
