“Now, Jane, I want you to be sweet.” At breakfast a few days later, Grandmother was giving me advice on how to conduct myself at the very first meeting of the Official Magnolia Maid Court.
Ugh. Be sweet? Be sweet? Boy, is that straight out of the Southern belle handbook. It also happens to be Grandmother’s catchphrase, something she says to her little dog, Chienette, when she’s baring her teeth on the verge of chomping up the mailman. It’s something that she’s been saying to me since I was a little girl. “Be sweet, Jane, and share your Barbie playhouse.” “Be a sweet girl and eat all your peas.” I’m convinced my first words were “be sweet.”
Truth is, there’s nothing sweet about me. I hate being sweet. It’s Southern belle code for “Don’t make waves.” “Don’t ruffle feathers.” “Keep your opinion to yourself because it might upset somebody else.” A good Southern girl practices the three Ds, according to Grandmother. Decorum. Dignity. Denial. Bite your lip, nod your head. Accept the circumstances, for you cannot change them. Deny that they are even bothering you. Basically, it means let everyone walk all over you, then go complain about them behind their backs.
Besides, the last time I was “sweet,” all it did was land me in a heap of trouble with Cosmo and get me banished from Bienville.
“Do you hear me, Jane? Promise me you won’t do anything improper.”
“I can’t promise that, Grandmama, you know me.”
“I do know you,” Grandmother continued. “And I know that now that you’re back, I don’t want to lose you again. So will you please promise me you won’t do anything unseemly and get yourself taken away from me again?”
As established, the last thing in the world I want to be is sweet. Especially with the Magnolia Maids. But it was Grandmother asking. “Okay. I’ll try.” And I meant it. I really did. I really thought, I’ll try to be sweet. To everyone. If only Ashley weren’t such a bitch. If only Mizz Upton weren’t such a pain in the butt. If only… oh, a million and one if-onlys, so little time.
When Henry dropped me off at Mizz Upton’s house (an appropriately dark and sinister brick Tudor over in the Dauphin District), I found Zara lingering out front. Opportunity number one to be sweet. “Hey, Zara! How in the world did a good Sidwell Friends girl end up in a place like this?”
Zara swiveled around and cracked a smile. “Sidwell? How did you know?”
“You moved here from DC, you’re a girl of a certain class and stature. Sidwell. That’s the school for you. Me, I went to Foxcroft.”
“Out in Virginia? That’s a great school.”
“So I’ve heard. I wasn’t there long enough to find out.”
“You transferred?”
“Nah. Got kicked out.”
Zara looked at me like I had just told her I was an alien or something. She clearly had no idea how to process this information. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. If I hadn’t gotten kicked out, I would never have ended up back in Bienville, all Magnolia-fied up, and that would have been a real tragedy, wouldn’t it?”
Zara caught the twinkle in my eye and grinned again.
“So seriously, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Zara’s grin turned polite and pasty. “Oh, you know, my parents thought it would be a great way for me to meet new people. Get to know the town.”
“Couldn’t you have taken a tour?” I rooted around in my bag for a cough drop to quench the intense desire for a cigarette that standing in front of Mizz Upton’s house had given me.
“Would have been a lot easier.” She laughed. “Oh no. We’ve been busted.” Zara pointed at the bay window of Mizz Upton’s living room, where Brandi Lyn was waving at us with great zest. She disappeared from our view and appeared moments later throwing open the front door and pulling us inside.
“Hey, y’all! Guess what we’re talking about?”
“I just couldn’t tell you.”
“Dandies! Who is yours going to be?”
I frowned. “Dandy? As in ‘Yankee Doodle’? ‘Stuck a feather in his cap—’”
“‘And called it macaroni’?” Zara finished my sentence. We raised our fists in a jab, which brought us both to giggles.
Brandi Lyn joined in the giggling fun. “No, sillies!”
Zara and I climbed the steps as an icy voice called out from the living room. “She’s talking about escorts.” I recognized that voice. Ashley. She and Mallory were perched like princesses in a couple of wing chairs by the fireplace. They clearly had arrived early enough to assess the layout of the room and establish themselves in the power positions. “Magnolia Maids need age-appropriate male escorts for certain occasions, like charity events and Mardi Gras balls.” Ashley tsked in Mallory’s direction. “See? Didn’t I tell you?”
Mallory shook her head in deep, agreeing concern. “They don’t know anything.”
Zara and I flopped down next to Brandi Lyn on a couch so big and puffy that it sucked you in to the point that you’d have to struggle to get out of it. These were the opposite of power seats. I smiled ever so sweetly in Ashley’s direction. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to learn, then, won’t we?”
Brandi Lyn turned to me again. “So who is yours going to be?”
“I don’t know. I just moved back here.”
“And you, Zara?”
Zara shrugged. “I just moved here, too.”
Ashley arched an eyebrow at Mallory. Mallory arched one back. “Total disaster,” Ashley said.
Brandi Lyn smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. Zara and Jane are so lovely. They’ll find cute boys soon enough. Anyway, JoeJoe’s gonna die when I ask him to be my dandy.”
“Is that the guy who leapt off the balcony for you at the civic center?” I asked.
“Isn’t that the most romantic thing in the world?” Brandi Lyn cooed. “He just adores the whole Civil War thing.” She turned to Ashley. “Do you think he can wear his Confederate uniform to events?”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “No, Brandi Lyn. It’s either morning suits or casual wear, depending on the occasion.”
“And you, Ashley?” Engaging others in conversation, that’s sweet. Look how sweet I’m being, I thought. “Who is your dandy?”
Ashley straightened up proudly. “My boyfriend, James Hardison the third.”
“Ooh. A third. How exciting!” Did I deserve an award or what?
“Our fathers are partners in Hardison and LaFleur.”
“What a match made in heaven.”
“Isn’t it? And I feel so sorry for y’all,” said Ashley. “Not having a steady boyfriend you can depend on to be your dandy. Or even knowing any of our Bienville boys.”
“Thanks, Ashley,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Hey, Mallory, who’s your dreamboat?”
Mallory blushed. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Ashley got a conniving look on her face. “Mallory has more of a free-form attitude toward boyfriends.”
Mallory blushed even more. “Ashley! That makes me sound like a… slut.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“Y’all don’t listen to her! I can’t help it. I like boys. I just have a hard time making a decision.”
“You mean you haven’t met a boy you didn’t like yet.”
“That’s okay, Mallory,” I said. “What’s wrong with being a slut?” Okay, I was trying to be sweet…. That one just didn’t come out right. Thank God Mizz Upton and Walter Murray Hill chose that moment to come in from the kitchen.
“All right, y’all!” Mizz Upton called, a big smile on her face, her omnipresent blown-out bob bobbing every time she nodded. She motioned a maid—not the Magnolia kind—to set a heavily loaded tray onto the coffee table. “We have sweet tea, cream cheese and olive sandwiches, and lemon squares! Help yourselves. But not too much! You don’t want to be bloated for your first dress measurements.”
Walter Murray Hill chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure we won’t have any bloating. This is the best-looking group of girls in town.”
Mizz Upton dismissed the non-Magnolia maid and glanced around the room, finding something amiss. “Caroline! We’re starting, Caroline!”
Moments later, Caroline trudged down the stairs from the second floor, book in hand. “Excuse me, Mother, but do I really need to attend? I already know all this stuff from the other years.”
“Well, you need to bond with your sister Maids, don’t you, honey?”
“I’m the alternate, Mother. I’m not that important.”
Mizz Upton looked like her patience was being sorely tested. “Something might come up where you will be called upon to serve the Court and if that ever happens you need to be prepared to serve well, sweetie. So do sit down. Please.” The last few words probably would sound polite on paper, but trust me, said out loud, they were nails hammered into a coffin.
I felt so bad for her, I said, “Yeah, come join us. Have a lemon square.”
Caroline beelined to a seat across from the couch and did indeed grab a lemon square, until her mother slapped her hand away from them. “What did I tell you?” Caroline snatched back her hand, completely embarrassed. Yikes. That was awkward.
Walter Murray Hill cleared his throat. “Now, girls.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t call you girls anymore. From here on out, you’ll be known as Maids.”
Oh boy.
“On behalf of the Bienville Chamber of Commerce, I welcome you to the sixtieth Magnolia Court. This is going to be our most exciting year yet, right, Martha Ellen?”
Mizz Upton, fake smile cemented in place, bobbed and nodded. “It already is, Walter! In my fifteen years as the Official Etiquette Mistress and Head Advisor of the Magnolia Maids, I have never seen such a, well, diverse Court.”
Ashley raised her hand. “I saw in the paper that people have been calling the selection of the Court the shock of the century.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously they don’t read up on international affairs much.” Uh-oh. Couldn’t help that one. Just slipped out.
Mr. Walter held up a hand. “Now you girls don’t worry about those letters to the editor, okay. We at the Magnolia Maid Organization will make every effort to protect and support y’all at every single event. And I’m sure the lawsuits from the Lennoxes and the DeVilles will be going away any day now.”
“Lawsuits? Seriously?” I gasped.
Ashley jumped in. “Yes, Jane, people do take this seriously. Maybe not you, but other people.”
Walter Murray Hill cleared his throat. “That’s right. We do take this seriously, and we are not going to let a few contradictory voices interfere with official Magnolia Maid business. You ladies are going to have the time of your life representing our fair city to folks around the country!” He launched into a sales pitch that would have made a game-show host proud, with Mizz Upton backing him up with delicious little details. We’d be marching in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. That thrilled Brandi Lyn to no end because she’d always wanted to go to New York City. There would be a presidential inauguration next January, which cheered Zara up since she could see her friends in DC again. Ashley got excited about the Memphis in May festivities because she had family there. And we all agreed that our trip to Los Angeles for the Rose Bowl would be the perfect opportunity to scope out the yummy likes of Channing Tatum and Shia LaBeouf.
Mizz Upton bobbed her head again. “But our very first event, coming up in six short weeks, is right here at home. Your debut…”
“… at the Annual Magnolia Festival at Boysenthorp Gardens!” As Walter Murray Hill completed her sentence with a bang, Ashley and Mallory worked themselves into a frenzy of delight.
“OMG, OMG, OMG!”
“Can you believe it? The best days of our lives are finally here!”
Mizz Upton held out a hand. “Now, Maids, there’s good reason to be excited, but we have a whole lot of work to do. First, there is…”
Walter Murray Hill cut her off. “Before you get down to business, Martha Ellen, I have to tell you, a special request came in the other day. I mean, you could have knocked me over with a feather.” He paused dramatically, really working the “game-show host on the verge of announcing the big prize” angle. “Get your passports out, Maids! You’re going to Spain!”
Every ounce of air in the room disappeared as we all gasped in unison. The Ashley/Mallory excitement buzz spread all over the room. Even I sat up. Spain? Sangria and bulls and cute Latin boys Spain? Not bad. It was Mallory, though, who got the first response out. “Abroad? No Magnolia Maid’s ever gone abroad before!”
Mizz Upton’s blonde bob nearly bobbed off her head in excitement. “Why, Walter Murray Hill, you rascal, you didn’t breathe a word about this!”
“Just found out myself, Martha Ellen, isn’t it something? We have been invited by our sister city, Ronda, to attend the annual bullfighting festival! I got a call direct from the mayor himself.”
Mallory threw her arms around Ashley. “Oh my God, we’re going abroad. We haven’t even had out debut yet, and we’re already making so much history!”
Brandi Lyn’s hand crept up. “Um, Mr. Hill. I don’t have a passport.”
“Oh, I don’t, either,” replied Mallory.
“Me neither,” said Ashley.
Caroline shook her head, too.
“I do,” Zara said. “My family travels a lot.”
“I’ve practically had one since I was born,” I added.
Zara and I exchanged glances. None of these girls had passports? This is exactly what I meant about Bienville looking at the world from afar.
Brandi Lyn sighed. “Is this a problem that we all don’t have them yet?”
Walter beamed. “No, it makes you one hundred percent Bienville born and bred, which is exactly why you’re Bienville’s best! We’ll get it all taken care of later in the year. Well, you ladies have a lot to talk about, so I’m gonna let Martha Ellen get going with you. Before I leave, though, I just want you Maids to know I am here for you. Just give me a ring if you need anything, if you have any old question. I mean anything. Walter Murray Hill is here for you, okay.”
He went around the room shaking hands with each of us, adding the extra squeeze with his left hand and looking us each in the eye before he made his exit and left us alone with Mizz Upton. And let me tell you, all of a sudden I had a newfound appreciation for his game-show-host self.
The moment that he was out the door, Mizz Upton’s bob stopped bobbing and she turned into Cruella de Bienville. “Throughout the entire time I have known him, Walter Murray Hill has been quite the optimist. He always thinks our Maids are beautiful. He relentlessly trusts in their ability to rise to the occasion. He believes that each Maid can learn and uphold all the rules of the Magnolia Court. Usually, I take great comfort from his optimism. This time I believe him to be completely and utterly wrong.” She turned what can only be described as a baleful eye around the room, one that turned benevolent only when it landed on Ashley and Mallory. “Due to the unauthorized and ill-advised selection process this year, I believe we are at the most detrimental starting point ever in the history of the Magnolia Court. Preparing you to present yourselves as proper antebellum ladies, with a complete cornucopia of Magnolia Maid and Bienville knowledge in six weeks’ time, is possibly the most insurmountable task I have faced in my entire life.” She launched into a litany of things we had to do, which included such delightful tasks as:
| 1. | Working with the dressmaker to design our antebellum dress uniform and suffering through various fittings along the way. |
| 2. | Creating a fund-raising plan to raise the gazillion dollars necessary for us to travel far and wide. |
| 3. | Memorizing the Magnolia Maid Manifesto, handbook, and official poem, and being able to recite them upon command. |
| 4. | Procuring our dandies for events occurring later in the year. |
Ugh. Listening to Mizz Upton’s cantankerous voice was not my idea of a good time, so when she went off on a tangent about sisterhood and the importance of the Magnolia Maid poem, I receded into the depths of my own mind. Get a dandy? Really? I know I was acting all nonchalant about it earlier, but it was actually stressing me out. It used to be that the logical choice would have been Luke. But now? I got into an argument in my own head about whether I would ask him to be my dandy if I ever saw him again. Answer, after much internal debate: No. Mainly because I could never use the word dandy with a straight face. Ever. That led to my other internal argument about whether I actually wanted to see Luke Churchville again or not see Luke Churchville. See Luke, not see Luke. See Luke, not see…
It was a pretty all-encompassing debate, until I realized that Mizz Upton had exited the room, leaving us to our own devices. I whispered to Zara, “What’s going on?”
“We’re supposed to have a ‘get to know each other chat’ and elect a queen.”
“A queen?” Huh? “What is this? The Feudal Ages?”
Caroline whispered to me, “You really should read the handbook, Jane. It’s all in there.”
Meanwhile, up in her power chair, Ashley whipped a clipboard out of her Lilly Pulitzer bag. “Maids, can I get your attention, please? I’ve taken the liberty of going ahead and developing some recommendations for how we should proceed.” She handed out a packet of information to each of us. “I think our charity should be LeanTeen. It’s a great new organization that promotes healthy lifestyle choices for inner-city youth. Exercising, eating fruits and vegetables, avoiding unnecessary weight gain. And for our fund-raisers, we can do a combo carwash and bake sale.”
Mallory jumped in. “Oh, I love that idea! My cousin Lucinda and her Maids did one, and they raised tons of money. Tons.”
Something about this sounded so very wrong to me. “Excuse me, Ashley, carwash and bake sale? How do you keep the baked goods from getting soaked?”
“Oh my!” Brandi Lyn cried. “I don’t think soggy cupcakes will sell.”
Ashley leveled us both with deadly stares. “Don’t be ridiculous. Any idiot can aim a hose in the right direction.”
True. But still. “I don’t know, you guys.”
Mallory giggled. “You guys? What are you, Jane, a Yankee?”
“Sorry. I seem to have misplaced my drawl. Let me try that again.” I did a little shimmy, tossed my hair, and jumped back on the horse. “I don’t know, y’all, I think we should do something different.”
Ashley and Mallory frowned. “Why do something different?” asked Mallory.
“Mr. Walter said he wanted things to change, soooo, I don’t know. Let’s do something unique, maybe more related to current events.”
Zara, good Sidwell Friends girl that she is, got an idea immediately. “Oh! What about the oil spill?”
“Exactly. I mean, here Bienville is, literally a sitting duck for all that oil spewing into the gulf. Isn’t there something we can do for the community? You know, to help out people, the animals, the beaches, something? What about a beach cleanup? Save some birds?”
Mallory frowned. “I don’t think anyone’s ever done anything like that before.”
Ashley grimaced. “It sounds dirty. I do not want to be parading around the beach getting bird gunk all over me. Ewww.”
“It’s oil, Ashley,” I said. “It is dirty. And you could take the spill a little more seriously. Everyone in the region is affected by it. Everyone.”
“I know my daddy’s going to make a fortune off all those lawsuits he’s filing!”
I gaped. Wow. “Okay, bully for you and your expanding shoe collection, but could you possibly consider those who are actually suffering? Say the folks who have lost their livelihood? The shrimpers, the people who run hotels by the beach? And oops, hate to tell you, but you may not be eating any oysters down at the Oyster House for a while because all the beds have been closed due to, yikes, being toxic.”
Ashley shrugged. “All true. I’ll give you that. But seriously, Jane. This idea is trashy. It does not fit in with the Magnolia Maid image. You know, clean, neat, presentable.”
“Mr. Walter said the times and the Magnolia Maids, they are a-changing.”
Ashley groaned. “Didn’t you hear? Nobody around here likes change, Jane. Nobody. Caroline, tell her.”
“Nobody likes change,” Caroline parroted. “But I do think it’s a nice idea.”
“Thank you, Caroline.” I smirked at Ashley. She sent Caroline a dark, dark look.
Brandi Lyn waved. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but aren’t we supposed to be thinking about a fund-raiser? This sounds great for a charity event, but I don’t understand how we make money off it?”
“I do.” Everyone’s attention turned to Zara, whose face was actually animated for the first time since we’d met. “I know exactly how to do it. A beach cleanup fund-raiser. We did one at this camp I go to in New England.” Zara explained the concept: your organization chooses a beach to work on, divides it up into increments, say of ten or twenty feet, then solicits contributions for each segment of beach that is cleaned up. Donors pledge anywhere from one cent to a dollar per section. “I’ve done it twice and both times, it’s turned out to be really fun. You’re out in the sun all day, jump in the water whenever you get hot. And we had lots of people, even total strangers, join in and help us. It was cool.”
I brought my hands together in a prayer position and quasi-bowed to Zara. “Genius, Zara. That’s what I’m talking about. We clean the beach, raise some awareness about the environment, make some money, have some fun. It’s a win-win-win-win situation.”
To my delight, my Maid sisters/sister Maids started getting excited:
Mallory, quite surprisingly, kicked it off. “Y’all! This is so creative! No Magnolia Maid Court has ever done anything like this!”
“I know! Let’s go door-to-door asking people for donations. Set up a booth at the mall!” cried Brandi Lyn.
“People all over the country are worried about this. We could set up at all the local tourist attractions so that out-of-towners can donate, too!” added Caroline.
“And don’t forget corporate sponsors,” Zara said. “My parents will definitely chip in.”
Mallory gasped with delight. “Oh my gosh! This would be so perfect to get the dandies involved with, right, Ashley?”
Ashley, meanwhile, had been receding into the wings of her power chair, the expression on her face turning increasingly sour as our conversation escalated. “I don’t know if my complexion can take a whole day in the sun like that.”
“We’ll take breaks in the shade,” I countered.
That did NOT appease her. “And I have one question.” She leveled a death stare at Zara, like a viper ready to strike. “Why don’t you tell us all the truth? How much did your daddy pay to get you on the Court?”
Talk about a conversation killer. It was so awful. We all just sat there in stunned silence. No one knew where to look. My eyes searched out poor Zara, who was managing to look incredibly serene, but it was obvious that her comfort level had sunk from tolerable to nonexistent.
I fixed Ashley with a death stare of my own. “You know what, Ashley? Uncool. You’re out of line.”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
“It’s totally rude and uncalled for and you know it.” I turned to the circle of girls. “I move that we change the subject before things get any more inappropriate. What about this queen business? Anyone have any thoughts?”
Ashley nudged Mallory’s leg with her foot.
“Ow! What? Oh! I nominate Ashley for queen.”
Ashley acted ridiculously demure, especially given how rude she’d just been. “Oh, Mallory. Wow. I’m so honored.”
“I can’t think of anyone better to be a queen. Don’t you agree, Caroline?” Mallory nudged Caroline with her foot.
Caroline glanced up from the lemon square she had snagged in all the awkward silence and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a great student council president. You’d be wonderful on this, I’m sure.”
My jaw hit the ground. Really? Caroline was supporting Ashley for queen? Had she not heard Ashley totally insult her on pageant night?
“Great. We have one candidate,” I said. “And since this is a democracy, you need an opponent. I nominate Brandi Lyn.”
Brandi Lyn paled. “Really? Me? Oh my goodness!”
“Don’t you go fainting again, Brandi Lyn. It’s obvious. You’re thrilled about being a Magnolia Maid, and you’re nice to everyone. You should totally do it.”
Zara raised her hand. “I second it.”
And with that, swear to God, steam erupted from Ashley’s ears as she realized she had lost every iota of control she ever thought she would have over her Magnolia Court. “Excuse me! Her boyfriend works at EZ Lube!”
“Yes, he makes real good money there,” chimed in Brandi Lyn, all enthusiastic.
“I don’t give a damn if he makes a million dollars a minute. He’s a redneck. And so are you. And I will not let you be head of my Court!”
With that Ashley finally jumped up and down on my last nerve. “See! This is exactly why you should not be queen. It is NOT your Court! It’s ours! You’re pissed that your little BFFs didn’t make it, and now you’re out to make all of us miserable! We’d have to be stupid to put our fate in your hands.”
“You’d be stupid not to!” Furious, Ashley shot up and got in my face. “My father is willing to donate ten thousand dollars if I get elected queen!”
I stood my ground. “And how is that any different from you accusing Zara of having her daddy buy her way on to the Court? Could you be more of a hypocrite?”
We were ready to take it outside—if you can imagine a world where Southern belles are willing to take it outside—when suddenly a sharp clap smacked us back to reality.
Mizz Upton, a look of appalled anger on her face, stood in the doorway.
“What?” I quipped. “Is it lunchtime?”
Mizz Upton’s voice shook with fury, but she spoke so calmly and quietly, I almost had to lean forward to hear her. “A Magnolia Maid never raises her voice.”
Ashley smoothed her hair, put that prissy look back on her face, and took a seat. “I am so sorry, Mizz Upton. It’s just that Jane, well, her attitude is so aggressive and unfriendly. It’s got me a little concerned that she may not be a team player.”
“I’m sure it does.” Mizz Upton glared at me. “Jane, could you please conduct yourself in a manner becoming a Magnolia Maid?”
I snorted. “That’s a question you should ask Ashley. She’s the one trying to play dictator!”
“I am sure Ashley’s just trying to guide the discussion.”
“If by guide you mean completely and totally dominate.”
Before Mizz Upton could respond, however, there was a knock at the front door. She moved toward the foyer. “Maids, we simply do not have time for this fracas. We will address it later. Dinah Mae Marshall is here.”
“Oh my!” Now Mallory looked like she was going to faint. “Somebody pinch me! It’s time for the dresses!”