Mary Bliss’s hands shook as she fastened the single strand of fake freshwater pearls around her neck. She had refused Katharine’s offer of a new outfit. Her pink spaghetti-strap sundress was only two years old, and she’d never worn it to a club function before. It would be just fine. She would be just fine.
If only.
If only her heart weren’t racing, and her mouth weren’t cotton-dry. Her hands wouldn’t quit shaking and she kept having to pee every fifteen minutes. All the women in Mary Bliss’s mama’s family had nervous bladders.
High-strung, her mama had called her. Right now she felt like a live electric wire was running the length of her body. She could generate power for all of northeast Georgia with the electricity running through her body right now.
“Mom?”
Mary Bliss turned slowly away from her dressing table. Erin stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wide-eyed.
“What do you think?” Mary Bliss asked, fluttering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a comic effect.
“What have you done to yourself?” Erin asked. “Now you’re a blonde? Oh my God, what is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Mary Bliss said. “It’s just hair color, honey. It’s a color wash. Nothing permanent. Don’t you like it?”
“You’ve gone nuts,” Erin said. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. Why have you done this to yourself?”
Mary Bliss felt a switch thrown. All the electricity stopped flowing. She felt cold and old again. Suddenly, the Sunflower had faded and the Luxe Lynx was back. Pearl was right. Lynx did stink.
“I wanted a little change,” she said quietly. “We’ve gone through so much this summer. I was tired of looking at the same old me.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” Erin said hotly. “Did you ever think of that? I liked the old you. I liked having a mother and a father, and a normal life and a normal family. But you’ve gone and fucked that all up, haven’t you?”
Mary Bliss stood up and walked over to Erin, to hold her, to reassure her that they were still family. But Erin backed away from her.
“And why are you all dressed up like this?” Erin asked. “Like some kind of, of, hooker or something? Where do you think you’re going?”
What was this, Mary Bliss wondered. Why was she being interrogated like a child, like a criminal, by her own daughter?
“I’m going to the dance at the country club,” she said, trying to sound dignified. “You’ve seen this dress before. It’s two years old. And I don’t think it’s very nice of you to talk to me like this.”
“Nice?” Erin shrieked. “Oh my God. Nice? Who are you going to the dance with? Don’t tell me you’ve hooked up with somebody. Oh my God. Don’t tell me you have a date.”
“I’m going with a friend,” Mary Bliss said. “It’s not really a date. His name is Matt Hayslip. He lives in the Oaks. We’re going to ride to the dance with Katharine and Charlie. It’s perfectly innocent.”
“You’ve hooked up with somebody,” Erin cried, running her hands through her hair until it stood on end. “You’ve hooked up with an Oakie. I can’t believe it. You fuckin’ give me all moral outrage when you find out I’m having sex, then you fuckin’ run around like a damn slut!”
“Erin,” Mary Bliss said, grasping her daughter’s arm. “Stop it. Stop it right now. I won’t have you talk to me this way. I’m your mother. And I won’t have it.”
“Oh. You won’t have it,” Erin said, her voice mocking. “You’ll have anything you like, won’t you? Meemaw was right. She said this is all a big act you’re putting on. She said Daddy left you because you weren’t sexy enough for him. Meemaw says she knows where Daddy really is. He’s got a girlfriend, and a boat and a beach house, and pretty soon he’s gonna send for me, and I’ll get the hell out of here. I’ll get the hell away from you!”
“Erin!” Mary Bliss raised her hand to slap her daughter, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her daughter was gone. Running down the stairs, down the hall. “I hate you,” she called to her mother. “I hate you.”
Somehow, Mary Bliss stumbled downstairs to the phone. She called Katharine. “I’m not going,” she said when her friend picked up. “Call Matt for me, please, tell him I can’t talk right now. You explain it. He’ll understand.”
“Understand what?” Katharine asked. “Charlie’s out getting the air conditioner running in the car to cool it down. We’re just leaving to come get you.”
“It’s Erin,” Mary Bliss said. “We had another horrible fight. She was right. I don’t have any right to act like this. I’m a married woman.”
“I’m not calling Matt,” Katharine said firmly. “I’m sorry, Mary Bliss, but your daughter is a spoiled little bitch. You shouldn’t have to apologize to her for having a life. You’ve sacrificed everything for her. Now it’s time for you to get on with your life.”
“I can’t go,” Mary Bliss said. “I’m so upset, I’m shaking.”
“You’re going,” Katharine said. “If I have to carry you there on my back. Now put on your lipstick and your boogie shoes. We’ll be there in five minutes.” She hung up.
Mary Bliss didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So she did as she was told. But first she went out to the kitchen and polished off the rest of Katharine’s thermos of Bloody Marys.
When the doorbell rang she was in the downstairs powder room, gargling with Listerine. The vodka seemed to have switched the current back on in her body, and she’d managed to apply a fresh coat of Hysteria to her lips.
Matt stood in the doorway. He was wearing a pink Polo golf shirt, khaki slacks, and an aged white dinner jacket. He was holding a cellophane florists’ box out in front of him.
He said what Katharine and Erin had said.
“Oh my God.” But he was smiling as he said it. “Have you entered the witness protection program?”
“Should I?”
“Katharine told me you’d had a do-over,” he started.
“Makeover,” Mary Bliss corrected him.
“Whatever. Wow. I had no idea.”
She blushed. “Do you like it?”
“I’m getting used to it,” he said. “I like it a lot, I think.”
She pointed at the box. “Are those for me?”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Something came over me. I thought, it’s a dance. I should get her a corsage. I called Katharine, and she said your dress was pink, so I should get something that goes with pink.”
“How sweet.” She opened the box and found a bracelet of pale-pink roses nestled on a bed of white excelsior.
“I love this shade of rose,” Mary Bliss said, fastening the corsage around her wrist. “I love roses, period. But now I feel bad because I don’t have a boutonniere for you.”
“That’s okay,” Matt said. “I’m just glad you decided to come out tonight. Katharine told me you were pretty upset.”
“I was,” she said. “I still am.” Her eyes lit on the shrub by the front door. It was still covered with gardenia blossoms. She reached down and picked the largest, freshest one on the bush.
“Hold on a minute,” she said, disappearing back inside the house.
When she came back a moment later, she was still carrying the florist’s box.
“Hey!” Matt said. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind and decided to stay home.”
“No,” she said, her voice level. She held out the box to Matt. “This is for you.”
He lifted the homemade boutonniere from the box. “Great,” he said. “Where does it go? I haven’t worn one of these things since my wedding.”
“Let me,” she said. And as she pinned the gardenia to the lapel of his dinner jacket, she noticed with surprise that her hands had stopped shaking. Her face was directly under Matt’s chin. He kissed the top of her head, nuzzled her neck a little.
From behind them a car beeped its horn. Katharine leaned out the window of Charlie’s Lincoln. “Get a room, for God’s sake,” she called.