Five

  

Jesus is coming. Look busy.

~ Sign outside the Rock of Ages Baptist Church

  

“Say spaghetti,” Birdie said as she prepared to take a photograph of Mavis, who was posing beside the old-fashioned cash register at the Bottom Dollar Emporium.

“Spaghetti,” Mavis said through tight lips.

“I’m so out of practice.” Birdie closed one eye to peer through the lens of her camera as she snapped the picture. “I wish Chiffon was still working at the newspaper. I miss her.”

Birdie was publisher and reporter for the Cayboo Creek Crier. Her former photographer, Chiffon Butrell, had gone into business for herself, leaving Birdie to take all her own photographs again.

She made another small adjustment to the camera lens. “This time say gesundheit.”

“Gesundheit,” Mavis repeated, her hand touching her mouth. “I wonder if this lipstick color is too racy. It’s a darker shade than I usually favor.”

“It’ll read fine in black and white,” Birdie said as the flash went off. “So Mavis, how does it feel to be nominated by the chamber of commerce as Business Person of the Year?”

Before Mavis could answer, the bell above the door jingled and Elizabeth wandered in, carrying her daughter and a ceramic dish garden flourishing with sprigs of dracaena, ivy, and palm. Her hair looked uncombed and there was a strained carrot stain on her beige sweater.

“Hey, Mavis, I heard your good news and I—” She eyed her friend’s appearance. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Mavis said with a modest smile. She was dressed to be photographed, wearing a navy pleated skirt with matching jacket and a silk blouse underneath. A paisley scarf, tied around her neck in a jaunty knot, completed the picture.

Elizabeth set her gift on the checkout counter. “This is for you. Congratulations on your nomination for Business Person of the Year. I just know you’ll win.”

“How sweet, Elizabeth.” Mavis leaned over the checkout counter to admire the plants. “You should share in this honor. After all, you’re the one who turned this business around.”

Two years ago, Elizabeth had devised a new marketing strategy for the Bottom Dollar Emporium when a competing national chain store opened nearby.

“The only thing I’m turning around these days is Glenda when she crawls into mischief.” Elizabeth laughed, but there was a false note to her merriment. Mavis raised an eyebrow at Birdie.

“Shoot, I gotta go.” Elizabeth glanced at her watch and hurried to the exit. “Glenda has an appointment with the pediatrician. Congratulations, Mavis.”

“I didn’t even get to cuddle my godchild,” Mavis said with a pout. “Thanks again for the plant,” she called as Elizabeth slipped out the door.

“She’s not herself,” Mavis said, turning to Birdie.

“She’s a mother now,” Birdie said.

Mavis bit her lip. “That’s not it. I’ve never seen her look so unkempt. And her eyes—the sparkle’s missing. Something’s troubling her.”

“Make way!” Attalee Gaines burst through the front door, her gray sausage curls bobbing on her shoulders. “Hedonism II, here I come.”

“What do you have?” Birdie said, looking at the card that Attalee held high in the air.

“It’s my ticket to tropical titillation,” Attalee said with a gummy smile. “It’s called Caribbean Cash.”

“Not another lottery ticket,” Mavis said.

“What’s Hedonism II?” Birdie asked, peering over Attalee’s shoulder.

“An all-inclusive resort in Jamaica. They have pj parties, wet t-shirt contests, and drinks with little umbrellas stuck in ‘em. It’s for singles, eighteen and over. If I win I’ll take Dooley.”

“Well, you certainly qualify for the age part,” Birdie said. “Several times over.”

Attalee scratched at the ticket and squinted at it through her glasses.

“Durn. I won only two bucks. Not even enough for a piña colada.”

“Do you know what the odds are of winning the Lotto?” Mavis said with a shake of her finger. “You’re just flushing money down the toilet.”

Attalee ignored Mavis and dropped into a chair beside Birdie. “I had my heart set on Hedonism. Looking forward to doing a little oil wrestling.”

“Speaking of hedonism.” Birdie craned her neck to examine a red spot on Attalee’s upper shoulder. “What is that thing, pray tell?”

“It’s a love nibble,” Attalee said. “Dooley came over last night and things got steamy.”

“Attalee,” Birdie said in a prim voice. “I hope you’re not compromising your virtue.”

“Too late for that,” Attalee said. “My virtue got compromised more than half a century ago in the backseat of a 1938 Nash. But I wouldn’t fret about things going too far ‘twixt me and Dooley. Every time I invite him over, my roommate Myrtle sashays into the parlor wearing a skimpy little nightdress. Claims she’s looking for her liver pills, but I believe she’s trying to horn in on my man. If I was out of the picture that chippy would be all over Dooley like dew on Dixie.”

“Why don’t you just go over to Dooley’s place, then?” Birdie asked.

Attalee frowned. “He lives in a boardinghouse, and his landlord don’t allow female guests. That’s why I was hoping to win that trip to Jamaica, so Dooley and me could have us some sparking time.”

The front door flung open, and Mrs. Tobias strode in.

“To the future Business Person of the Year,” she said. “I’m so proud of you, Mavis.”

“Word travels around fast,” Mavis said.

“By the way, did I just miss my great-grandchild and her mother?” Mrs. Tobias said. “I thought I saw Elizabeth’s car pull out of the parking lot just before I pulled in—” Her eyes alighted on Attalee’s shoulder. “Goodness, gracious, Attalee. Your shoulder is inflamed. Were you bitten by a spider?”

“It’s a hickey,” Attalee proudly said.

Birdie rolled her eyes. “You really should put a Band-Aid over that thing, Attalee. It’s attracting far too much attention.”

“I believe you’re jealous,” Attalee said, rubbing the spot with her finger.

“Jealous?” Birdie sputtered. “As I told Mavis at the Sweetheart Dance, I’m glad to be done with courtship once and for all.”

“Horse feathers!” Attalee tugged her white soda-jerk jacket from the hook on the wall and slipped into it. “A woman never loses her yen for a good man. That’s like saying you’ve lost your taste for a hot meal.”

“I disagree,” Mrs. Tobias said. “I’m quite content to be single.”

“Hear, hear.” Birdie clapped her hands together.

“I’m with Attalee,” Mavis said. “It’s nice to have a man about.”

“Particularly if he’s a red-hot French-kisser,” Attalee said.

“After that embarrassing incident at the dance, I thought you’d be soured on men, Mavis,” Birdie said. “Besides, there aren’t any eligible males our age around here.”

“There is now.” Mavis smiled. “Brewster Clark from high school stopped by the store recently. He’s in town to fix up some property his aunt left him.”

“Brewster Clark,” Birdie breathed. “Big, strapping quarterback with more dimples than a golf ball? That Brewster Clark?”

“One and the same,” Mavis said with shining eyes.

“He never gave me the time of day,” Birdie said with a frown. “And I was no slouch in high school, what with being editor of the Flying Squirrel Times and captain of the javelin team. Instead, he preferred frivolous girls. Cheerleaders and prom queens. Tore through them like notebook paper, finally settling on that blond minx, Prissy Stevens.” Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What does he look like now? Paunchy, bald, or both?”

“Nearly the same as he did in high school, only with more crinkles around his eyes,” Mavis said. “Best of all, he’s single. He was widowed a while back.”

“Poor, dear Prissy,” Birdie tsked. “She was always frail.”

“Not Prissy,” Mavis said. “She married a big shot in New York City. Brewster’s late wife was named Nettie.”

“And where’s this house that he’s fixing up?” Birdie asked.

“On the corner of Chickasaw Drive,” Mavis said. “It’s the place covered up in wisteria.”

Birdie pushed a stray silver thread of hair behind her ear. “I still say men are more of a nuisance than a comfort. Even Max, God love him, was a trial at times. The TV clicker was like an extension of his hand. I’d be happily watching a movie on the tube and in a blink, we’d be flung into the middle of a duck-hunting show.”

“Arnold wore scratchy wool socks to bed, even in the summer,” Mavis said, with a faint smile.

“Harrison used to listen to his Vivaldi records at such a deafening volume it made my china rattle in the cabinet,” Mrs. Tobias said. “Men are simply a different species entirely.”

“I should be going.” Birdie picked up her camera case. “The morning’s flown out the window, and my inbox is piled with papers.”

“I’m game for another cup of mud,” Mavis said as she waved good-bye to Birdie. “Join me, Mrs. Tobias?”

“I prefer tea,” Mrs. Tobias said. “But I’ll get it.”

“No, you sit.” Mavis gestured to her regular chair in the break area. “You like lemon, don’t you?”

Attalee didn’t join them. She had her nose pressed up against the front window of the store.

“I smell a bird,” she said in a suspicious voice.

“You mean a rat,” Mrs. Tobias said.

“I mean a bird,” Attalee said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the window. “A lovebird about to warble her mating song.”

“What are you jabbering about, Attalee?” Mavis said as she split open a box of teabags.

“Birdie claimed she had a desk piled high with papers,” Attalee said with narrowed eyes. “So how come instead of taking a left on Main to the Crier she took a right in the direction of Chickasaw Drive? Right into the arms of that Brewster fellow y’all were talking about.”

“That’s silly, Attalee,” Mavis said. “You heard Birdie. She has no interest in men anymore.”

Attalee shook her head. “I don’t give a hoot what she said to you. She buzzed out of here like a queen bee hunting down her drone. I’m telling you, Mavis, if you’re interested in that Brewster fellow, you better get cracking, ‘cause our girl Birdie is hot on his trail.”