Miss Julia Knows a Thing or Two

by Ann B. Ross

  “It’s really getting cold outside,” Sam said. “The weatherman said down in the teens tonight. Why don’t you stay in while I walk Penelope home?”

  I put my hand on his. “Thank you, Sam, I don’t think I could bear walking away and leaving her. I wouldn’t mind so much if she wanted to go back and if I knew Mildred would give her more than the time of day. I am so angry with that woman. I could just shake her.”

  “Well,” Sam said, smiling, “she’d be a handful if you tried it.” Then, as if he’d just thought of it, he said, “Why don’t we send that little bear with her? She’s been sleeping with it every night.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s do,” I said, brightening with another thought as well. “And I’ve just remembered something else.”

  While Sam ran upstairs to add the Steiff bear to Penelope’s packing, I went to the living room to retrieve a present from under the tree.

  When we were all back in the kitchen and Lillian was buttoning Penelope’s coat for her, I held out the gift.

  “Honey, years ago when Lloyd was your age, we always let him unwrap one present before Christmas, so I think you should unwrap one before Christmas, too.”

  She looked up at me with those big, dark eyes and a small smile appeared. We watched as she unwrapped the large box, and when she opened it, a look of wonder replaced the smile.

  “Can I wear them now?” she asked, holding up one fur-lined boot that was as pink as any little girl could want.

  “Absolutely,” I said, “we want to see how you look.”

  It took only a minute for her to slip off her sneakers and pull on the boots. She looked down at them on her feet, wiggled her toes in them, then, looking up at us, she said, “I can’t wait to show my grandmother.”

  If anything could ease the pain of seeing her go, that was it.

  * * *

  —

  In bed that night, I was all but asleep when Sam said, “Mildred hasn’t put up a tree. At least I didn’t see any signs of one when Ida Lee came to the door.”

  My eyes popped open. “Mildred wasn’t there to welcome Penelope home?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask for her. Just went in the foyer to put down the suitcase, and left. But there were no decorations at all, not even that remarkable crèche set she has. And you know she usually goes all out for Christmas, so she may be sicker than we realize.”

  “Maybe she is. I hope not, but she’s able to get up and do what she wants to do. You should’ve heard her dress down Grady and Inez last night. They were out of there before, well . . .” I stopped to laugh at what I’d said, then went on, “almost before they could get dressed at all.”

  Of course I’d told Sam all the sordid details of the previous night, including the variety of curse words from Horace on his way back inside and Mildred’s description of what I’d not seen but could vividly picture going on in what was supposed to be Penelope’s bed.

  “After all that,” Sam said, as I felt him smile, “maybe we should give Mildred a little slack. That’s enough to traumatize anybody.”

  “I just hope she got that mattress changed. And,” I went on, “I hope Penelope is sound asleep on it now with her little bear and not lying awake feeling lost and abandoned.”

  Sam patted my back, awkwardly because I was lying on his arm, but any kind of pat was appreciated. After a few minutes just as my eyes were about to close for good, he said, “Have you heard anything from Etta Mae? You made your final offer today, didn’t you?”

  “No, nothing from her yet, and, yes, we made the final one, and I’m trying not to worry about it. I doubt we’ll hear anything, though, until around noon tomorrow. I just hope Lurline Corn recognizes a decent offer when she sees it, and I really hope that Ernest Sitton will take his little red wagon somewhere else. He could spoil everything.”

  * * *

  —

  Doors opening and closing and the rumble of voices from the kitchen aroused us early the next morning. Christmas was fast approaching, and Lillian was gathering her forces for our great, wonderful Christmas dinner. I heard James’s deep laugh as well as a lighter one which I took to be Janelle’s, Lillian’s energetic teenage neighbor.

  “Busy day today,” Sam said as he swung out of bed. “You remember that I’m helping the Men of the Church deliver Christmas Angel gifts, don’t you? We should be through by early afternoon if you need me for anything.”

  “Okay, but from the sounds downstairs, we have plenty of help.” I yawned and began to dress, thinking of all I still had to do before Christmas. Penelope crossed my mind as I wondered what the day held for her. But resolutely, though reluctantly, I had to put her aside to concentrate on immediate concerns.

  In fact, my heart started to race at the thought that Lurline Corn might actually agree to our best and final offer and sell The Handy Home Helpers to Etta Mae on this very day.

  By the time I got downstairs, James and Janelle had already brought up five card tables and stacks of folding chairs from the basement and were rearranging furniture in the library.

  “We didn’t know how many we’ll need,” James said, pointing to the folding tables leaning against the wall. “Miss Lillian said the number keeps changing.”

  “Well, that’s the truth,” I said, “so just set up all five and if there’re empty places, it won’t matter. And if more than twenty show up, there’s always the kitchen table.”

  “We gonna serve from the dining room table?” he asked. “I got a new chef’s hat if you want me to carve the turkey.”

  “That’s wonderful, because I do want you to carve. You put us all in the holiday spirit, James.”

  I walked into the living room to plug in the tree lights, thinking that I needed all the holiday spirit I could get. Presents piled up beneath the tree reminded me to make sure that Penelope was relieved from her duties long enough to come over and wrap her gifts.

  Going into the kitchen, I found fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls waiting on the table, and Lillian emptying a row of grocery bags at the counter.

  “You’ve already been to the grocery store?” I asked. “I didn’t know they were open this early.”

  “Yes’m, an’ I’ll pro’bly be goin’ back a half a dozen times more. But I can stop and fix you some eggs.”

  “No, cinnamon rolls are perfect. But why don’t you stop and have some with me?”

  “I already had some,” she said, wadding up plastic bags to save. “I tell you, Miss Julia, they’s a lot to do to get ready to feed a bunch of people. I make out lists, then always find out I need something else, so back to the store I go. But if I ever get things situated where I know I got everything in one place for ev’ry dish I’m gonna cook, that’s half the job done. See, everything I need for the broccoli casserole is settin’ right here, except the broccoli and the eggs and cheese that’s in the ’frigerator. An’ everything for the Jell-O salad is over in this corner, so when I’m ready to put it together, I don’t have to go lookin’ for anything. It’s a whole lot easier to stir up a dish if you got everything you need in one place.”

  “Goodness, Lillian,” I said, “I don’t know how you do it all. The army ought to put you to work on strategic planning.”

  She laughed, then looked toward the door as we heard a soft knock. I opened it to see Penelope standing there in her pink boots.

  She didn’t come in, just stood by the door and said, “My grandmother said it was a good time to wrap my presents if it’s all right with you.”

  “Any time you can come is all right with us,” I said. “Come in, Honey, we’re glad to see you.”

  Lillian dried her hands and went to the refrigerator. “You need a cinnamon roll ’fore you start, an’ a glass of milk to go with it.”

  After getting her settled at the table, I asked, “Did your grandmother like your new boots?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she
said without looking up. “She said she guessed they’re what all the girls are wearing these days.”

  Not exactly a ringing endorsement, I thought, and probably said with just enough flippancy to take the joy out of anything.

  I really could’ve shaken Mildred and shaken her hard, handful or not.

  Chapter 46

  Getting Penelope settled in Lloyd’s room upstairs, I pointed out all the wrapping necessities and told her to use whatever she wanted. I saved Christmas wrapping supplies from year to year, supplementing them with new purchases as needed, so Penelope had a wide choice. Finding several small colorful bags, I suggested that she wrap the key rings in tissue paper then put each one in a bag.

  “Then all you have to do,” I went on, “is put labels on them with the name of who gets which one, and of course your name so they’ll know who came up with such perfect gifts. And here’s the Scotch tape. You’ll need it when you wrap the larger presents.” Then, with an urgent thought, I said, “You want me to cut the paper for you? These scissors are quite large and very sharp.”

  “I can use scissors,” she said, “and Ida Lee let me borrow some little ones.” She held up a pair of small, blunt-ended scissors, a little larger than kindergarten size and perfectly suited for her small hands.

  “All right then. When you finish, bring your presents down and put them under the tree,” I said, avoiding the fact that there was no tree to receive them at her house. “We’ll all be opening gifts on Christmas Day, and I can’t wait for everybody to see yours.”

  Seeing her settle in to her tasks, I left her alone and went downstairs, ending up moving from room to room as Janelle followed with the vacuum cleaner. If I hadn’t been expecting a call from Etta Mae, I would’ve just left the house and fiddled around downtown. But as the morning wore on and the deadline for Lurline’s response approached, I found myself more and more on edge. What would that woman do? If she accepted our offer, it would be a wonderful Christmas for Etta Mae. I could just picture her beaming with the joy of ownership, tempered of course with her usual fear of anything new. But I could also picture her taking hold of her new responsibilities and proving to herself and everybody else how competent she was. Bobby Lee Moser just might find himself in second or third place in the mind of a blossoming entrepreneur.

  The likelihood of everything working out as I’d planned, however, was looking more and more doubtful. What with Lawyer Sitton getting in on the bidding and Lurline singing as she worked in spite of her nephew’s incarceration, I had a bad feeling as to our prospects. Still, there was nothing to do but wait for Lurline’s response and, I thought with a deep sigh, start planning something else for Etta Mae. If, that is, she didn’t lose her head and get married again.

  After a while Penelope came downstairs, her arms laden with wrapped and bagged gifts. Surveying the pile of presents already under the tree, she asked, “Is there room for mine?”

  “Of course,” I said, jumping up to help. “Here, let me rearrange a few things.” Ignoring the creaking of rarely used joints, I got down on my knees and began to make room for her gifts around the tree. I declare, though, the gifts that were wrapped had more Scotch tape on them than wrapping paper. A couple of sizable square ones which I assumed were mine and Mildred’s were glistening with see-through tape.

  When the last gift was placed, I sat back on my heels and looked up at the tree. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? And your presents add just the right finishing touch.”

  She held out one small Christmas bag and said, “Is it all right if I don’t put this one under the tree?”

  “Of course, Honey, they’re your gifts. You can do whatever you want with them.”

  With her eyes still on the tree, Penelope said, “My grandmother said he’s too sick to come for Christmas dinner, so I want to give him his present today or maybe tomorrow.”

  Understanding that the he and the him referred to Horace, I didn’t question her, saying as I rose with difficulty from the floor, “That’s an excellent plan. You’re sure you have the right key ring in that bag?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

  “All right then, but it’s lunchtime so why don’t you stay a little longer and have lunch with us?”

  “No’m, I have to go. He likes to eat with me.”

  So what Horace liked appeared to be what Horace got, regardless of what anyone else might prefer. That was understandable, considering his current condition, but I was saddened by the thought of a child being used to accommodate someone else.

  There was nothing I could do but help Penelope with her coat, make sure that she had Horace’s gift as well as Ida Lee’s scissors, and watch her safely across both lawns until she disappeared inside the house next door.

  * * *

  —

  I’d just finished eating a sandwich in the living room, the kitchen having been commandeered by Lillian, James, and Janelle, who were designating for specific usages, it seemed, every pot, pan, and dish that we owned. I stretched my feet toward the fire that James had started for me, made note of a bare place on the tree and decided I’d fill it the next time I had to get up. The living room was a peaceful retreat on a raw day, although there was precious little peace in my mind.

  I’d not heard one word from Etta Mae even though the time limit we’d given Lurline Corn had come and gone. Was Lurline just ignoring our best and final offer? Or was she holding off in the hope that Mr. Sitton would outbid us?

  Surely, I thought, she’d have the courtesy to formally decline if she had no intention of accepting our offer. But maybe not, maybe total silence was her response. Whatever the case, my stomach was roiling with anxiety and my mind was filled with first one thing, then another.

  When the doorbell rang, I nearly dropped my plate in my haste to answer it.

  “I’ll get it!” I called toward the kitchen, as I flung open the front door. “Etta Mae, thank goodness! I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

  She stood there a minute with her teeth clenched tight and her hands balled into fists. Her face was red from crying, her nose from the cold, and she was steaming with anger.

  “Miss Julia, I am so mad I could spit fire! You won’t believe what she’s come up with.”

  “Come in,” I said, reaching for her, even as my spirits fell. “Come in and tell me.”

  She followed me into the living room, but when I stopped at the sofa, she kept going, stomping to the fireplace, then turning on her heel and stomping back. “I can’t believe her! How she came up with this idea, I don’t know. I could just slap her to kingdom come for even thinking I’d do that, and, and . . .” She stopped, swallowed hard, and the tears poured out.

  “Come sit down, Etta Mae,” I said, patting the sofa cushion. “Come tell me what happened. It’s all right if she turned us down. It just means something better is on the way.”

  She plopped down beside me, her face crumpling with misery. In a strangled voice, she said, “It couldn’t get any worse.”

  So Lurline had turned down our best offer. I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I didn’t admit that I was disappointed at the news, but Etta Mae was in such a state that I had to pretend that our loss was simply the price of doing business.

  “Oh, now,” I said soothingly, “just losing out on a business proposition can’t be that bad. It happens to people all the time. What you do is pick yourself up and start looking for something else. And that’s what we’ll do. I told you I was already thinking of something else, remember? So we’ll just start working on that.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, “it’s too late. I won’t be here.”

  “Won’t be here? What do you mean? If Lurline sells to Mr. Sitton, you know he’ll keep you on. And at the same time we’ll be getting our ducks in a row for something else, because I’m not ready to quit by a long shot. Now listen, you can’t let this get you down. It
may turn out to be the best thing that could’ve happened.”

  “Miss Julia,” Etta Mae said with a groan of pain. “She’s not selling it at all. She’s taking it off the market.”

  “What?” I said, sitting back in surprise. “Why? What in the world brought that on? She’s changed her mind about moving to Florida?”

  “Uh-uh, no, she’s still going.” Etta Mae stuffed a handful of wet tissues into one coat pocket and drew out a handful of dry tissues from the other one. “She’ll just fly back every month or so to make sure everything’s all right.”

  “And leaving you in charge as she always does? But with a pay raise, I hope. A sizable one?”

  She shook her head and groaned again. “No, not me, and no raise, either.” Etta Mae sniffed, wiped her nose, and went on. “She called me to her office and told me it’s come home to her that blood is thicker than water. Which I already knew, but I didn’t know what it had to do with The Handy Home Helpers. Then she said that what Bug needs to straighten himself out is a little responsibility. He just needs to grow up, she said, and be a man. But, Miss Julia, he’s so goofy, he stumbles over his own feet. So what is she doing? She’s keeping the business and putting him in charge, and she expects me to back him up and,” Etta Mae stopped and pressed the wad of tissues to her eyes, “and she said that I was the only reason she could leave Bug in charge because she knows I’ll be there to keep him out of trouble and keep the business going.”

  I let a number of seconds pass in silence as I tried to absorb this revolting development. “In other words,” I finally said, “she’s leaving the business with you, but Bug will have the title, the office, and the authority, as well as the credit and the salary.” She nodded, too broken up to speak, and I went on. “And Mr. Sitton is out of the running, too?”

  “I guess. She didn’t mention him. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t work with Bug, and I can’t work for him. He’s a mess, Miss Julia. He’s lazy and as dumb as a post, and he’ll run the business straight into the ground. Patients will leave and the other girls will quit and when nothing’s left but debt he’s gotten into, Lurline will blame it on me.” Her shoulders shook as the unfairness of it all hit her again.