Miss Julia Hits the Road (17 page)

“The pot,” I repeated, not understanding the terminology. “Then why would anybody want to play if the winner doesn’t win anything?”

“It’s like you said, Miss Julia,” Mr. Pickens said, still trying to get himself under control. “It’s an excuse to ride and do some good, too. Besides, we could have a prize of some kind for the winner. Some kind of bike accessory, maybe, or a free tune-up.” Then he seemed to get serious for a minute. “Too bad it’s not warm enough for a Bikini Bike Wash.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” Hazel Marie assured me, while ignoring him. “J. D. took me on a short one a few weeks ago, and I enjoyed it ever so much.” She bounced a little in her chair, as the idea began to appeal to her. “Listen, you wouldn’t believe the amount of money that could be raised. We only went with a small group and they raised several thousand dollars. If we get a whole big group of riders, why, no telling what we’d bring in.”

“Really?” I asked, perking up at the thought.

Mr. Pickens eyed Hazel Marie warily, then ventured, “You’ll ride with me, won’t you, sugar?”

Hazel Marie flounced herself, swished her hair a little, then settled down with a martyr’s sigh. “I guess I could, for Lillian’s sake. But you better behave yourself.”

Mr. Pickens smiled like a milk-fed cat. “You’re on my backseat, then. Sam,” he went on, “who’s going with you?”

I glanced at the wistful look on Little Lloyd’s face, knowing that he wanted to go. I held my breath, hoping that he’d be preserved from risking life and limb. I was ready to put my foot down if Sam wanted to take him. It was bad enough, to my mind, that Sam was considering the perilous venture for himself. I wouldn’t be able to stand having the both of them in the way of danger.

“Julia,” Sam said.

“Yes?” I responded.

“I’m answering J. D.,” he said. “He asked who I’m taking, and I said you.”

“Oh, no, Sam Murdoch. Nobody’s taking me anywhere. I wouldn’t get on that thing for all the tea in China.”

“I’ll go, Mr. Sam,” Little Lloyd said.

“You’re going,” Mr. Pickens said, smiling at the boy. “We just have to work out the seating arrangements.”

“Hazel Marie,” I began to protest, “you can’t . . .”

“Miss Julia,” she said, “I promise you he’ll be safe. But we really want you to go. You’d love it, I know you would. But first, we’d have to get you some pants so you can straddle the backseat.”

I reared back in my chair. “If you think I’m going to pull on a pair of pants and hike myself astride one of those machines, why . . .” I nearly choked at the thought. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d do such a thing. No,” I said, shaking my head, as determined as I’d ever been in my life. “No way in this world would I ever consider it.”

“I know what’ll solve that,” Sam said. He looked at Mr. Pickens. “J. D., will my Road King take a sidecar?”

Mr. Pickens’s white teeth gleamed against his tanned face. “It sure will, and that way, Miss Julia, you can wear whatever you want.” He looked over at Lillian and winked. “Although I was really looking forward to seeing you in one of Lillian’s running suits.”

Lillian began to laugh at that unlikely event, and everybody except me joined in. I didn’t see a thing funny in the idea.

Sam looked at Little Lloyd. “That’ll work out so all of us can go. You can ride behind me, and Julia’ll be in the sidecar. How about that?”

The child nodded his head up and down like a yo-yo, delighted to have his place confirmed.

“Sidecar, backseat, or running board,” I said. “I’m not getting in or on any of them. And I’m not gambling my money in any kind of card game. So just leave me out of your plans, and that is that.”

I stood and began to gather the dishes, then I stomped out to the kitchen. But not before seeing another wink exchanged between Sam and Mr. Pickens.

I made an effort and recovered myself enough to be pleasant for the rest of the evening, but I refused to listen to any further plans that included me as part of that outlandish Poker Run idea. Except at one point when Sam sidled up to me as we adjourned to the living room, saying that he really wanted me to go with him.

“You’ve threatened to take Lillian in my place,” I told him. “So why don’t you do it?”

“No, ma’am!” she said, as silverware clattered on a tray. “Don’t be makin’ no plans for me to go on that ’sickle. I’d as soon live in a tent as get a house on the back of one a them things.”

Then she realized that she might have sounded somewhat ungrateful. “I mean, Mr. Sam, I sure do ’preciate what y’all tryin’ to do, but me an’ that machine not cut out for one another. Why, I’d prob’bly mash them tires flat if I got on it.”

“No fear of that, Lillian,” Sam told her. “You should see some of the riders in our club. They’d make three of you, and they haven’t flattened any tires yet.”

Then Mr. Pickens added his two cents’ worth. “I can put a sidecar on mine, Lillian, if you want to go. Hazel Marie can ride behind me, and Lloyd behind Sam, and you and Miss Julia can ride in style in the sidecars.”

“Nossir,” she said, shaking her head. “Y’all got to count me out. ’Sides, I got the high blood, an’ crawlin’ on one a them things make it shoot up outta sight.”

Oh, Lord, I thought, she’s right. I knew Lillian had high blood pressure because she took medicine for it, and I knew she didn’t need any stress beyond what she already had. In fact, just the thought of riding on a motorcycle made my own heart race and my mouth go dry. No telling what it would do to her.

“Just leave Lillian alone,” I said. “Neither of us is going with you, and as far as I’m concerned, the whole idea is ill-conceived and mortally dangerous.”

That pronouncement didn’t have the effect I’d hoped it would, which was to stop the whole thing in its tracks. I sat in the living room, holding my peace, while the others continued to make their plans, discussing what route they would take, how many miles they’d go between stops, who would want to join them, what supplies to put in the storage bins on the back, where they’d rendezvous at the end, and how much money they might raise.

I watched Sam as closely as I could without attracting his attention, looking for evidence of diminishing faculties, not wanting to find any, but, on the other hand, thinking that any suspicious sign just might keep him at home. But he was talking sensibly with Mr. Pickens, answering Hazel Marie’s questions in his usual courteous manner, and making plans with Little Lloyd on how they’d load the Road King.

I declare, I thought to myself with a sudden start, what am I thinking of? There I was feeling reassured about Sam’s state of mind by the way he was participating in a conversation, when the whole conversation was on a subject that indicated a state of dementia in the first place.

Yet I couldn’t discount their efforts out of hand. If I made that agreement with Mr. Gibbs, I’d have to support whatever fund-raising idea they came up with—even a Bikini Bike Wash, as long as I didn’t have to wear one.

It wasn’t long before Sam got up to leave, saying that he had house guests to see to. I’d heard Lillian go up the back stairs to her room, and he’d probably taken that as a signal to end the evening.

He started for the door, winked at me, and cocked his head at Mr. Pickens, who’d been edging closer and closer to Hazel Marie until she was mashed up against the arm of the sofa.

I followed Sam to the door, realizing as he had that those two wanted some time alone, which suited me fine, except Hazel Marie didn’t seem to be that eager for it. But she’d fooled me before where Mr. Pickens was concerned.

I put my hand on Sam’s arm, hoping to get in another word to dissuade him from pursuing the reckless idea of running around on two wheels. I wasn’t against the idea, I was just against his participation in it.

Instead, he sidetracked me by saying, “Julia, if you know anybody who might make a sizeable donation, you might want to go ahead and approach them about it.”

“I’ve been thinking of that,” I said, handing his jacket to him. “And I have an idea or two. I went to see Mr. Benton down at the bank this morning about setting up an account for the funds we raise, and he told me he’d make sure it was done. He said he’d make the first donation himself, which I thought was nice of him, but no more than I expected.” I paused, thinking of the bank that Wesley Lloyd Springer had owned, which had passed to me for the short while between his passing and Binkie’s unloading it for me. I’d not foreseen any trouble setting up the account, nor of having everybody who worked there make a donation to it. After all, I still had a considerable interest in the bank, and none of them wanted to get crosswise of me. “And,” I went on, “I made my donation, too, which I can increase if need be.”

Then I led Sam closer to the door and said, “But I’ve also done something I’m not sure about, Sam, and if you don’t think it’s right, I hope you’ll go to the bank tomorrow and straighten it out.”

“I can’t imagine what you’ve done,” he said, with that smile that made me a little weak in the knees.

“I let Mr. Benton put my name on that account. Well, I mean as treasurer of the Willow Lane Fund, which is the name we came up with. I put Mary Alice McKinnon’s name on it, too, since she’s so good with figures.”

“That’s perfectly all right, Julia. Somebody has to be able to access the account, and I expect people think both of you are as trustworthy as they come.”

I smiled, proud of my reputation in town. “Well, I didn’t want anyone to think I’d overstepped. I’d just not thought about it until I got to the bank, and that seemed the easiest thing to do at the time.”

“If it makes you feel better, I nominate you for treasurer, and I’ll second the motion, as well.”

“Now, one other thing,” I said, smiling at his idea of Robert’s Rules, which I was familiar with from my association with any number of women’s organizations. “I’d like you to talk to Little Lloyd and Hazel Marie about their contribution.” I stopped, bit my lip for a moment, then plowed right ahead. “Maybe you ought to talk to Binkie, too. Let her look over Little Lloyd’s assets with you, before you do . . . I mean, before you let him do something rash. That’s something Binkie can help you with.”

He looked at me, a little smile on his face. “You can trust me with his welfare, Julia.”

“Oh, I know I can,” I said, somewhat flustered at being caught out. But the truth of it was, I didn’t know if I could or not. “I didn’t mean to imply . . .”

I finally got out of that embarrassing moment, but not before having another one.

“I tell you what, Julia,” he said. “When we get this fund off the ground, why don’t you and I go over to the Grove Park Inn? I’ve had dancing on my mind for a while now, and I’ve even bought some dancing pumps. Black patent leather that’ll knock your eyes out.”

I just stared at him. Why in the world he’d think of such a thing as dancing in black patent leather pumps was beyond me. It certainly wasn’t my cup of tea and, as far as I knew, it’d never been his either.

Unwilling to get into it with him, I just said, “We’ll see,” bade him good-bye, and took Little Lloyd by the hand. We went upstairs to bed, leaving Hazel Marie alone with Mr. Pickens, the man she wasn’t speaking to. And she might well not’ve been, for it wasn’t long before I heard the front door close again and her lonely footsteps going back toward her bedroom.

I came downstairs the next morning and was walking through the living room when the front doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” I called back to Lillian and Hazel Marie. They’d just gotten Little Lloyd off to school, and Hazel Marie was making out some kind of motorcycle accessories list.

I opened the door to be greeted by two huge floral arrangements, which hid the face of the delivery person from The Watering Can.

“Morning, Mrs. Springer,” a voice said. “Somebody’s real popular ’round here today.”

“I daresay,” I said, just so put out with Sam’s continued foolishness I could hardly stand it. “Put them here on this table, if you will.”