The Event

by Whitney Dineen

  I can’t tell if he looks excited or uncomfortable about spending more time together, but he nods and smiles, “Sounds like a plan.”

  I excuse myself to go back downstairs and start sketching out the layout for Emmeline’s. I can hardly wait to get this show on the road.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  In my mind’s eye, I visualize our store looking a lot like Silver Spoons with slight tweaks that will appeal to a country crowd. Davis’s beautiful rustic furniture will be much more enticing than sleek steel shelving. I’m also going to focus on earthy colors for our brand instead of sterile white. Folks here respond to a homey vibe and in order to spend money, they need to feel at home at Emmeline’s.

  Hours pass as I troll my laptop for the perfect fixtures. If you can believe, the ones I want are from Silver Spoons, but due to personal reasons—like them laying me off—I’m loath to pay full price. I’d rather they not make any extra money off me.

  I pick up my phone and call my old friend and former co-worker, Lexi. She answers, “Emmie, how are you? How’s Faye?”

  It’s a rush of pure weirdness to hear my friend’s voice. The last time we talked was the morning I left New York. We’ve been relying on texts to stay in touch. “We’re so good. I miss you, though.”

  “I miss you, too. More importantly, Silver Spoons misses you. The two dingbats that have taken your place have no idea what they’re doing.”

  “What do you mean?” I demand. “I trained Chelsea and Eli myself.”

  “They left! They’ve joined forces and are opening their own store in the SoHo. It’s called Cheli.”

  “How exciting.” I’m going to have to call them and cheer them on. It takes real gumption to open your own store in New York City. It also takes an enormous amount of capital.

  Lexi asks, “Any particular reason you’re calling and not messaging?”

  “I want your employee discount,” I declare. “I thought that request required a more personal touch.”

  “What’s mine is yours,” she replies. “What do you want me to order for you?”

  I give her all the item numbers and quantities before telling her what I’m going to use them for. She says, “I haven’t begun to reach my spending limit for the year, so let me know if you need anything else.”

  “If you’re sure about that, I might just use their fixtures in the model condo. I’ll get back to you by the end of the week.”

  “Sure thing,” she answers. “I’d love to come down and visit sometime soon. Maybe this fall? I have a month of vacation time that’s been accruing and if I don’t use it by the end of the year, it’ll go away.”

  I assure her that she’s always welcome in my home before we hang up. It’ll be a big culture shock for my friend as she was born and raised in Manhattan. She claims to have never been to the Southern states. Her mom is a college professor and her dad, an artist. When they took family vacations it was to places like London, Paris, and Florence.

  It’s after five by the time I finally close my laptop and look for someone to drive me back to Mama’s. When I venture out of my little corner of the building, I discover Jesse is the only person left who’s not part of the construction crew. They’re all still hard at work.

  “Hey, Jesse,” I say. “Can you give me a lift?”

  “You going to the club?” he asks.

  “I’m going home. Why would I be going to the club?”

  “Tonight is the event of the year—the first catfish fry of the summer! I thought you would be ready to get your bib on.” The Players Grill hands out bibs on catfish night because it’s one greasy and glorious affair: catfish, coleslaw, and hush puppies, primed and ready for mass consumption. I haven’t been to a catfish fry in years.

  “Are you going?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am. I wore my pants that have a little extra wiggle room.” He pulls his waistband out to spokesmodel his attire.

  “Is the rest of the family going?”

  “Pretty sure. I was going to ask you and Gracie if you wanted to drive with me, but the day got away from me. What do you think?”

  My stomach growls in response. “I’d love to go. Just take me home to see how Faye’s feeling and maybe change my clothes. She was grumpier than a prickly pear yesterday from all her teething. If she’s still as sweet as she was this morning, I’m in.”

  My uncle smiles brightly before tossing me his keys. “Go ahead and take my car. Y’all can pick me up on your way. I should be done by six. If you decide to stay home, send your mama.”

  I head out to Jesse’s bright red sports car and let the top down. I drive home with the music blaring, feeling more settled than I have since coming home. Catfish night at the club is one of my fondest childhood memories, and while Faye’s way too young to eat anything, I’m thrilled at the thought of sharing it with her.

  Creek Water and I seem to finally be embracing each other in a way I’ve always dreamed of.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Mama’s dressed and ready to go when I get home. She says, “I totally forgot tonight was catfish night until Jesse called. You in?”

  “Depends,” I answer. “How’s Faye doing?”

  “She’s been a delight. We played patty cake, peek-a-boo, and where-are-baby’s-toes all afternoon. She’s taking her afternoon nap right now.”

  Relieved, I tell her, “Let me grab a quick shower and throw on a sun dress and hopefully Faye will be awake.”

  Standing under a cool spray to perk myself up, I wonder if Zach and Shelby will be there. I kind of hope they will. Not because I want to see Cootie’s gang, but because I think Zach is still interested in me, regardless of what he told Shelby down by the creek, and I want to lay eyes on them together to assure myself there’s really nothing going on there. I’m not sure why he’s running hot and cold on me, but I sure would like to find out once and for all.

  I take extra pains to look gorgeous while Faye coos away, batting at her teddy bear mobile. When I’m ready, I pick her up from her crib. Regardless of what Mama says, I don’t think I was the one who brought Granny back, I think it was Faye. Babies are nothing but pure magic. They’re so unspoiled and fresh to our world, they’re like rays of sunshine after a thunderstorm. It took something that bright to reach into Granny’s darkness.

  Mama wants to take her car, so we don’t have to transfer the baby seat. She figures Jesse can pick up his ride when the night ends. My daddy’s brother is waiting out front when we get to the sewing machine factory. I should probably call it the new Frothingham building, but like every other vintage commercial structure in town, I s’pose I’ll always refer to it by its original designation. People don’t call Amelia’s shop Bead It. They still call it Whisper Willy’s. I don’t believe there’s anyone in town who was alive when the building really was a chocolate shop.

  Jesse jumps in back with Faye, and greets, “I didn’t eat lunch in preparation for tonight.”

  Mama laughs. “I guess we’d better order you two bibs in case you go wild.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I think that’s a mighty fine idea.”

  When we arrive, Mama pulls up to the valet stand instead of finding her own space. She tells us, “By the looks of it, we’d have to park a mile down the road to find a spot.”

  The whole front lawn of the club is filled with picnic tables. Folks are milling about as far as the eye can see. The excitement in the air is as thick as if we’re here to witness the Second Coming.

  I spy Uncle Jed, Auntie Lee, and the cousins at a table near the fryers. It’s Jed’s usual spot, so he can be first in line when the fish production starts, which is six thirty every year, like clockwork. They greet us with hugs, kisses, and warnings.

  Auntie Lee cautions, “Cootie’s on a tear. Watch your backs.”

  “What’s up?” Mama wants to know.

  “She says she’s got the most delicious gossip and she can’t wait to share it.”

  Mama groans, “Sweet Jesus, what now?
”

  “She won’t say until the shortcake is served. She’s enjoying building up everyone’s excitement.”

  Mama shakes her head and announces, “That can only mean one thing.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “It means she’s got real dirt on someone,” Auntie Lee declares.

  Mama adds, “If Cootie doesn’t start yacking right away, it’s not just speculation, she has a reliable source to prove the authenticity of her news. She likes to draw out the anticipation as long as possible, then spill the beans when she’s got a crowd foaming at the mouth in excitement.”

  Auntie Lee shakes her head. “I wonder what poor sucker she’s set her sights on tonight?”

  “I guess we’ll know soon enough,” I say. “In the meantime, check out Jed. It looks like we’re about to get this party started.”

  My uncle is doing deep knee bends and lunges while checking his watch. He’s preparing to launch himself at the food line as soon as Chef Jarvis fires his starter pistol, signaling the opening of this year’s catfish fry.

  Auntie Lee shakes her head. “I don’t know why he always persists in doing this. They inevitably burn the first few fish while they try to get the oil just right.”

  Amelia walks over in her tie-dyed gypsy skirt in time to answer, “Daddy says he likes the burned ones, but I think he’s compensating for never being any good at sports in school. Like if he can outrun every other man here, even if it means eating burned fish, he’s some kind of latent track star.”

  Auntie Lee confirms, “Third trombone was his most impressive extracurricular activity. It’s a good thing he had such a great personality.”

  Chef Jarvis blows the ceremonial whistle that’s been hanging from his neck for the last thirty years of this event. He shouts out in excitement, “It’s on in five, four, three, two, one!” He fires his pistol into the air and Jed, along with at least twenty other men, take off like their britches have just been hit by a live grenade.

  It’s all good-natured until Harold Wilcox trips Uncle Jed. He stops to say something to him before speeding past like a wannabe roadrunner in those old-timey cartoons.

  Jed doesn’t get up right away or make his move for the coveted first in line. Instead, he slowly stands up and walks back to us.

  Auntie Lee asks, “Are you sick, Jed? Why aren’t you up there fighting for your fish?”

  He looks like a herd of elephants have just walked across his grave. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for fish tonight. Why don’t we all go over to Filene’s? I’m buying.”

  “What in the world are you going on about, Jed?” Auntie Lee demands. “We want catfish.”

  My uncle shakes his head. “Harold just gave me a little head’s up.” At our expectant expressions he continues, “Looks like Cootie’s gossip has something to do with our family.”

  Mama’s eyes crease and she purses her lips tightly. “Cootie’s nothing but a low-down bullying bitch. I say we stand our ground.”

  Personally, I’m more interested in running. I don’t hold for intimidation, but darned if I want my family caught off guard. I can’t think of a thing she could say against us, so I don’t believe she can corroborate her meanness, whatever it is. At the same time, I think it’s best to know what her lies are before we formulate our response.

  Jesse sides with Uncle Jed, “I could sure go for a nice filet.”

  Davis and Beau have joined our throng and heard enough to weigh in. Davis decides, “I’m in the mood for a T-bone.”

  Beau announces, “I’m going to have a little chat with Shelby.” He walks away with all of our eyes glued to his back.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Beau storms right past Cootie and takes Shelby’s arm, leading her away from her mother. We can’t tell what he’s saying to her, but he’s clearly giving her what for. Zach showed up after Beau and stands next to his make-believe girlfriend, but he doesn’t come to Shelby’s defense. Instead he takes a turn and has some words of his own for her. I wish I were a fly on the wall so I could hear what’s going on.

  Cootie finally notices that her child is getting a tongue lashing and storms across the lawn to Shelby’s aid. She points a vicious finger at my cousin and joggles it back and forth like a metronome gone mad. Beau takes a step toward her as if to intimidate her by his stature, but the gossip queen of Creek Water, Missouri holds strong. She does not appear to be backing down.

  Mama says, “Good lord, I wonder what they’re saying.”

  Auntie Lee decides, “Maybe now’s a good time for a steak, after all.”

  “Ladies, give the man a chance, will ya?” Davis drawls, smiling ear-to-ear, clearly enjoying the scene enfolding in front of us.

  Jesse tries to remove himself by taking Mama’s arm and saying, “Gracie, I’m not feeling too well. Would you mind driving me back to your place to pick up my car?”

  Mama pulls away, “No, sir, if you’re feeling poorly, you’d best take yourself off to the pool and lie down on a lounger. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Beau raises his voice and we hear him clear as day threaten, “You better watch your step, Ms. Wilcox, or I’ll be coming after you.” The whole club stares at them with their mouths hanging wide open and their eyes darting around to see if anyone has any idea what’s going on.

  Not one word is spoken until Cootie retaliates, “You are no position to threaten me, Beauregard Frothingham.”

  At that, Shelby steps forward and takes her mama’s arm. She whispers something in her ear and then Cootie adds, “This isn’t over.”

  Beau replies, “Yes, ma’am, it surely is.” Then he nods his head once to Shelby before walking in our direction.

  We twitch around while we wait. When he arrives, we demand, “What did you say to them? What’s going on?”

  Beau answers, “I just told them that we know Cootie’s up to something and she’d best reconsider sharing it if she knows what’s good for her.”

  Auntie Lee demands, “How’d she take that?”

  Beau turns to his mama and answers, “She said that she had a score to settle with you and Auntie Grace and that she’s gonna make you rue the day you messed with her. Something about ketchup?”

  Mama looks mad enough to bite through steel. “I’m gonna rip every last strand of hair out of that woman’s ridiculous head!”

  Uncle Jesse stands in front of her to block her path. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Gracie. I say we take Jed up on his offer for steak and let the dust settle.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mama squares her shoulders, steps around Jesse, and strides purposefully toward the buffet table. I guess she’s not interested in going out for a steak. The rest of the family follows closely behind as though we’re a battalion on our way to the front line. We’re covering Mama’s back against any surprise attacks.

  Mama serves herself a mixed salad and one ear of corn before heading back to the family table. Her head is high and there’s determination in every step. She’s signaling to everyone watching that Cootie’s in for the fight of her life if she decides to take on our family.

  I wonder if someone is sneaking around with a little betting book, placing odds on the outcome of tonight’s event. I can’t pretend to know who would reign supreme in a knock-down drag-out with Cootie on one side and Mama and Auntie Lee on the other. The Frothingham gals have plenty of spunk, but Cootie Wilcox is full of spit and vinegar. I can say this though, if Mama and Auntie Lee don’t win the battle, they’ll wage another until they’re the victors of the war. This could go on for years.

  I sidle up to Beau and ask, “What did you say to Shelby?”

  He looks like steam is still wafting off him. “I told her that once her family does harm to mine, there’s no chance in hell I’ll ever consider a relationship with her again.”

  “What did she say to that?” I feel like I’m in the middle of a junior high school pissing contest. I’m equal parts scared and invigorated. It’s a heady mixture
, for sure.

  “She said she’d talk to her mama.”

  “She must like you a whole bunch, Beau. You still feel a pull?” I ask.

  “I won’t know the answer to that until I see how tonight works out,” he replies, unknowingly giving away the truth that his feelings are already compromised.

  I try to catch Zach’s eye, but he seems determined not to look at me. Either that or he’s too far away to notice me. I wonder if he knows something. While the fish smells like heaven on earth, my stomach is in such a whirl, I don’t know how I’m going to safely swallow anything for fear it will come right back up on me.

  Amelia saunters over next to me. “I think we need ourselves a cocktail. What do you say we hit the bar and come back for food later?”

  Normally, I’d ask Mama to look after Faye, but given a rumble may break out, I fetch her before following my cousin up to the veranda where drinks are being served. I order an icy cold beer and drink half of it down before Amelia and I find a place to sit.

  “I feel like we’re being watched,” I tell her.

  “Ya think?” she laughs. “Everyone here’s trying to decide if we’re running scared from Cootie, giving credibility to her lies, or if we’re going to stand up and spit in the eye of the devil.”

  “It would help if we knew what her gossip is.”

  “It surely would. I have an idea,” she says. Amelia thinks I should talk to Zach, but he appears to be doing everything he can to steer clear of me. Which, to be honest, is annoying the crap out of me while making me feel even more determined to find him.

  I drink down the rest of my beer and leave Amelia in charge of Faye before running into the clubhouse to freshen up. I attempt to fluff my hair and reapply my lipstick, but my eyes are drawn to the changing room where Zach and I hid from Mrs. Wilcox the day of my baby shower. Lordy, my body ignites at the memory. Zach has never so much as kissed my lips, but I feel like he’s somehow laid claim to me. How in the world has that happened?