by Debby Mayne
He scowls. “We just went on vacation. We spent night and day with each other. What more does he want?”
“That vacation was last summer, and we were so busy with tours y’all didn’t even have time for conversation.”
“I don’t get you, Marybeth. You nagged and nagged until I agreed to go on a family vacation. Then when I booked our tickets to Europe, you griped about that.”
“I was talking about some family time without distractions. We didn’t really spend time bonding as a family on that so-called vacation.” The truth of the matter is that I came back more exhausted than before we’d started, and now all I have are pictures to show for it. I know Bucky likes to show them to everyone so they’ll think he’s a world traveler, but I would have been just as happy booking a week at a fishing lodge in Tennessee.
Bucky just keeps saying the same thing. “But we were together. Isn’t that what matters?”
He clearly doesn’t get it. I just let out one of my grunts that irritate him and walk away.
I’m almost to the stairs leading to the bedroom area when I spot Julius coming out of the kitchen. His expression is softer and reminds me of how he looked as a little boy. He glances over at me. “Have you seen Daddy?”
“He’s in the den.” It’s weird for Julius to ask for Bucky, since they hardly ever see each other at home, except at the dinner table—and that’s only when I insist we all sit down for a meal together once or twice a week. “Why?”
“I want to go get the stuff to make the boxcar.”
I can’t help wincing at the sound of hopefulness in his voice.
“Good luck with that.” I head on upstairs before he has a chance to say anything else. I’m tired of making excuses for Bucky.
This reunion we’re about to have here has me nervous. I want Bucky to cook a pig in the backyard, since it’s his family’s tradition, but he says he doesn’t want to mess up all the fancy landscaping he had put in.
Just when I think Bucky is getting better and realizing that the oil money shouldn’t rule his life, he slides backward. One thing I realize now is that until he’s ready to change, he won’t. There’s no amount of nagging I can do to make it happen. Unfortunately, it might take a major disaster—something even worse than what we’ve already experienced—and that makes my stomach hurt.
I glance around at the magazine-perfect room. Living life like this might look good in the movies, but in reality, I feel like I can’t move anything, or I’ll mess up the pretty picture. Bucky doesn’t even want me to walk across the yard because he’s afraid I’ll crush the grass. I want to plant a vegetable garden in the sunniest spot, but Bucky says the tomato cages will take away from the beauty of the yard and the herbs look like weeds. Quite frankly, I’m at the point where I’d rather see a row of tomato cages and herbs than the expensive flowers and shrubs Bucky had put in. I finally found a spot he agreed to, but it’s not ideal.
Every now and then, I think he gets what I’m saying. He even relents on occasion. But then he goes into town and hangs out with some of the people I don’t even know, and that sets him back.
In my heart, I know I was born a redneck, and that’s not something I can change. But I like the way I am at my core, which is probably why I come across so grouchy sometimes. Most of the people in Bucky’s family roll their eyes when they think we’re not looking. But I know. I can sense that they don’t much care for our lifestyle, and I agree with them.
Shay once asked me if I needed help, and I totally came unglued. I let her have it, and when I was done with her, she apologized and backed away. I know she has no idea how emotional I was at the time, but Bucky had just gone out and bought himself another ridiculously expensive car. When I try to explain, she holds up her hands and says not to bother—that she doesn’t want to interfere where it isn’t any of her business. Ever since then, I’ve detected an invisible shield when I’m around her. That breaks my heart because I know how respected Shay is among the Bucklin family.
If I hadn’t acted like such a nutcase, I might have had a good friend who is kind and willing to run interference for Bucky and me with his family. Shay has the reputation of being a good mediator because she has so much common sense like her granny and grandpa—something Bucky obviously didn’t inherit.
Maybe I should call Shay now to grovel. I pick up my phone and pull up her number, but I chicken out. I put the phone down and walk over to my immense walk-in closet that’s filled to the brim with expensive designer clothes, handbags, and shoes. If it were up to me, I’d wear jeans every day—and not the ones with the fancy stitching on the pockets to show we overpaid for them. I like good, old-fashioned Levis. They’re comfortable, and I never mind having a few faded spots on the seat and knees. That just means they’re worn in like I like ’em.
After looking through my things, I decide to get over my fear and call Shay and use the excuse that I need something casual for the reunion weekend. That’ll make it a little easier to strike up a conversation.
She answers right away. “What can I help you with, Marybeth?” The formal tone in her voice lets me know she hasn’t forgotten, but she’s still not rude like some folks in her family.
“I’m trying to figure out what to wear to the reunion. Can you help me?”
“Um . . . we do have some things, but they might not be up to your—”
I cut her off before she has a chance to say something based on perception. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She sighs. “Okay, but you realize Puddin’ is here, right?”
“Of course. Tell Puddin’ I’m looking forward to seeing her.”
“Will do.”
After we get off the phone, I take a long, hard look in the mirror. I’ve taken on the appearance of the women I used to hate. My hair is perfect, my makeup is flawless, but inside, I’m the biggest mess ever.
That gets me to thinking. Maybe I can change things up a bit. I walk into the bathroom and open the bottom drawer beside my sink. I use a makeup-removing wipe to get rid of what I’m wearing, and I slap on what the cosmetics gurus call a five-minute face. Now as I see myself in the mirror, I look more like the real Marybeth.
Next, I change out of the pretentious jeans and shoes that cost more than the monthly mortgage payment on our last house and slip into an old pair of Levis that I have to lie down on the bed to zip. I yank off the cashmere sweater and pull on one that’s a blend of cotton and rayon. A pair of sneakers I only wear around the house finishes off the outfit.
I’m running a little behind, but I don’t think Shay will mind. She does a double take when I walk into the shop.
“Marybeth?” Her voice shakes as she tilts her head.
I nod and smile. “I need something cute and comfy for the reunion.”
She looks me up and down before gesturing for me to follow her to the back corner of the shop. “We’ve been getting quite a few new lines in. Have you thought about style or color?”
“Not really.”
She stops at one of the round racks and pulls something out. “How about this?”
I look at the things she’s showing me and shake my head. “That stuff is rather pretentious, isn’t it?”
“Not really.” The look she’s giving me now lets me know she thinks I’ve completely gone off my rocker. “I was thinking you’d like it, since it matches your current style.”
“To be honest, I’m tired of my current style. I want to go back to the kind of stuff I used to wear.” I let out a low chuckle. “Well, not exactly the kind of stuff, since most of it came from the thrift store. Something a little more current but not quite so . . . well, not so—”
“Stuck up?” The sound of Puddin’s voice catches my attention. “What’s going on, Marybeth? Are you out slumming today?”
As soon as I walk into La Chic, I know I’ve stepped into a minefield. Not only is Puddin’ standing there glaring at Marybeth with a hand on her hip and flames shooting from her eyes, but Shay look
s like she’s afraid to say a word.
“Hey there.” I offer a meek wave and forced smile.
All three of the women turn to face me, and I instantly wish I could melt into the floor and ooze on out of there. I swallow hard. All I wanted to do was leave some flyers about the next cooking class.
“Hi, Sally.” Shay is the first one to recover. She walks toward me and takes the flyers. “We’ll make sure everyone gets one of these. So, how are Sara and Justin?”
“He’s doing quite a bit better, and she’s feeling very pregnant.”
Finally, Puddin’ drops the scowl and manages a smile. “I know that feelin’ all too well. I can’t imagine how she’ll deal with an injured husband and a new baby.”
Marybeth coughs, so we all turn toward her. “If there’s anything I can do to help out, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
Puddin’ belts out a sardonic laugh. “You? Who are you trying to kid? You’re so busy getting your nails done and hanging out with all those hoity-toity women that you won’t have time to—”
“I hate getting my nails done. I don’t even like those women you call hoity-toity. I’m sick of my life. I want to be needed.” Tears stream down Marybeth’s cheeks as she melts down in front of everyone in the shop. I’m thankful we’re all family, because if anyone else had been in there, we’d have some explaining to do.
Puddin’ blinks as though she’s never seen Marybeth before. “Are you serious?”
Marybeth nods. “Absolutely. And I feel terrible about how Julius has been acting.”
“Well, I’ll be a—”
Shay gives Puddin’ a stern look before she steps up and gently places her arm around Marybeth. “Why don’t you come on back to the fitting room area and have a seat?”
Marybeth wipes her nose with the back of her hand and shakes her head. “No, I came in here to get something new to wear, and I don’t want anything too . . . too . . .” She looks at Puddin’ and offers a shaky smile. “As you would say, nothing too hoity-toity. I don’t like the way I’ve been since we struck oil. I don’t even like myself anymore.”
Shay and I both watch as Puddin’s face softens, and the two of them close the distance between them and hug. And hug and hug. I hear one or both of them sniffling, until finally, Puddin’ pulls away.
“I never thought I’d ever see this day,” Puddin’ says.
Marybeth’s chin quivers as she nods. “I know. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do this, but I’m sick of pretending.”
“Then stop doing it. Let’s see what we can do to make you real again.”
Shay pulls her head back and raises her eyebrows. “Looks like you’ve got this one, Puddin’.”
Her sister-in-law nods. “I most certainly do.” She takes hold of Marybeth’s arm and pulls her toward a display of moderately priced weekend wear. “Let’s start here and see what we can find.”
Once Puddin’ has Marybeth’s full attention, Shay smiles at me. “So, how’s the new condo deal coming along?”
I shrug. “The seller keeps acting all skittish, so I’m thinking about backing out of the deal.”
“Can you do that?” Shay looks concerned. “Didn’t you sign the papers?”
“Yes, but she hasn’t. Nate says she’s already past the date she’s supposed to sign them, so I can get out of it if I want.”
“Speaking of Nate . . .” Shay tilts her head. “How is everything between the two of you?”
“Good, I guess.” I don’t want to come right out and say that I’m holding my feelings back because I don’t want to get hurt, even though I know she’ll understand. But I really enjoy being around him. He’s sweet and fun, and he always makes me laugh. Not only that, he gets along really well with Justin, but he doesn’t forget about me like Tom did. But we’ve only been dating for a few weeks, so I figure it’s best to let things play out for a while before I get too caught up in what I’m feeling.
Shay smiles. “Have you considered asking him to the family reunion?”
“I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure he’s ready for our family just yet.” I remember when she brought her boyfriend Elliot to the last reunion. He didn’t seem fazed, but he’s been around the Bucklins for years.
Shay lets out one of her hearty laughs. “I know what you mean. Fortunately, Elliot already knew most of our family before he went, and he said he’d always wanted to go to one of the famous Bucklin family reunions.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t disappointed.”
Shay leans toward me, cups a hand over her mouth, and whispers, “It shook him up when Brett and Julius blew up the barn. He said if it happens again, he’ll have a talk with both boys.”
“I’m sure that’ll go over big with their mamas.”
Speaking of the boys’ mamas, Puddin’ comes out of the fitting room area with a humongous grin on her face. “Hey, y’all, looks like Marybeth has come back to earth. Now all she has to do is work on Bucky.”
I’ve known Bucky all my life, and I can’t imagine that happening. I’m sure he has a sweet side, but I’ve never seen it. I was really young when they struck oil. After he got rich, he acted like he was better than everyone else, even though we all know he didn’t do a single thing to earn that money.
This is one of the reasons Sara and I don’t brag about how much we’re making, even though I’m sure it’s not as much as Bucky gets from the oil company. However, I suspect we’re bringing in quite a bit more than he ever did before they struck oil. People naturally assume we’re barely squeaking by and enjoying our little hair bow business. If they only knew.
Marybeth comes walking out wearing leggings and a tunic-length sweater that’s not only super cute on her but will make her fit in better with the rest of the family. I know she has spent a fortune on her other clothes, but they aren’t the least bit stylish. They make her look like some of the old rich women who do lunch at the country club. In fact, I suspect that’s where she’s been getting her fashion advice, since she’s been doing that for the past several years.
“Well, what do y’all think?” She gives a little spin while the rest of us stare at her. “Does it look cheap?”
I quickly glance over at Shay, who appears amused, and then at Puddin’, who looks annoyed. Rather than risk having Puddin’ be the first to speak up, I step closer. “I think you look absolutely darlin’.”
She grins at me. “You do?”
I nod. “It takes a good ten years off you, and it’s so in style now.”
“It’s super comfy.” She walks over to the triple mirror and inspects herself from all angles. “The only thing I need now is a pair of boots.” She faces Puddin’. “Do y’all have any of those fur-lined boots with the fuzzy dangling balls?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure they have them down at Sure as Shoe-Tin,” Shay says.
Marybeth contorts her mouth. “Oh, Bucky doesn’t want me buying footwear at a discount shoe store.”
“And that’s the very reason you need to go there.” Puddin’ snorts. “Their footwear is just as good as what they have at those overpriced stores with the dowdy shoes.”
Everyone gasps, but Marybeth laughs. “Ya know, you’re right. I used to buy all my shoes there before, and I never had a single solitary complaint. In fact, when I go by the window and see those cute shoes they have, I start droolin’.”
“Then what are you waiting for, girl?” Puddin’ looks over at Shay for support before turning back to Marybeth. “As soon as you leave here, go straight there and buy yourself some cute boots.”
Marybeth nods. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. Now let me try on a few more things.” She lets out a little squeal of delight as she scurries back into the fitting room.
Shay drops her voice to a low volume. “I hope we’re not about to start a family feud.”
“Don’t be silly,” Puddin’ says. “We’re doing something important.” She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “We’re helping to empower one o
f the women in the family. If Bucky makes noise, we’ll all go to her rescue.”
Shay gives her a sideways glance before looking at me. “If you say so.”
I see the twinkle in her eyes. An image of a family female army rushes through my mind, and it makes me laugh.
I walk right up to my daughters’ condo and bang on the door. As soon as Sally answers, I let her have it. “What have you girls done?”
“What are you talking about, Mama?” She gives me a confused look before stepping aside. “Come on in so I can close the door.”
As soon as I walk inside, I turn back to my daughter. “I heard Bucky hit the roof when Marybeth went home with a bunch of stuff that she said you, Shay, and Puddin’ told her to buy.”
Sally chuckles. “I never told her to buy anything, but even if I did, she’s a grown woman who can do whatever she darn well pleases.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. You might be all grown up and living on your own, but I’m still your mama.”
“Sorry.” A contrite look comes over her face. “But seriously, Mama, you know we can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“What happened? Why were you even in the store with her?”
Sally explains what she was doing there and how Marybeth wanted to try on a few things that weren’t dowdy. “So we helped her find a few cute things, and she loved them. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” I shake my head. “What’s wrong with that is her husband doesn’t want her dressing that way.”
As soon as those words leave my mouth, I hear the lack of logic in my words. In fact, if George ever told me how to dress, I’d laugh my head off. After a few missteps early in our marriage, he’s learned to tell me how great I look, no matter what he thinks.
“Hey, Sheila.”
The sound of Justin’s voice snags my attention. I quickly glance over toward the kitchen and see him slowly walking toward me, a huge grin on his face.
