Runny03 - Loose Lips (10 page)

A
t six-thirty on Holy Monday the phone rang at the Smith residence. Buster lifted his head off his paws, then put it back down. The phone always rang at six-thirty.

Juts, making her first pot of coffee while Chessy shaved, picked up the heavy black receiver. “Toodle-oo.”

“We’re not on the front page, thank God,” Louise said, relieved as she scanned the details of the altercation on the steps of Christ Lutheran Church and the mysterious damage to George Gordon Meade. “Do you have your paper?”

“Yes, Buster got it. I’m opening it up right now. You’re right.” Then Juts flipped through. “We’re not on the front page. We’re on page two.”

“Oh, no.” Louise, in her excitement, had read through the front-page story, a war report that was continued on the rear page. She hadn’t opened the newspaper. She quickly read:” ’Buster Smith and Yoyo Smith, an Irish terrier and a large long-haired alley cat, both owned by Mr. and Mrs. Chester Smith, joined the congregation of Christ Lutheran Church on Easter morning. Perhaps moved by Pastor Neely’s sermon concerning the resurrection as a rebirth from our animal selves, the cat and dog contributed to the
services. Yoyo Smith showed herself adept at flower rearranging and Buster Smith was in charge of refreshments.

“‘The highlight of the service came when Yoyo played the organ. Mrs. Smith declared her cat has always been musical, a fact confirmed by Sevilia Darymple, church organist. Mrs. Smith, the former Julia Ellen Hunsenmeir, with her sister, Mrs. Paul Trumbull, is opening a hair salon on Frederick Street behind the Strand Theater named the Curl ‘n’ Twirl. The grand opening will be May 15. According to Mrs. Smith, Buster and Yoyo will also be employed at the salon.’”

As Louise paused for breath, Julia said, “Pretty good free ad, isn’t it?”

“I don’t remember you giving Popeye an interview.”

“I called him after we got home from Mom’s Easter dinner. I guess we’re even now,” Juts said.

“No, we’re not. That horrible article about you and me with that dreadful front-page picture. I mean, I looked like death eating a cracker and you looked, well, not yourself.”

“Okay—but this is a good start, Louise. Popeye can do a little more penance.”

“May 15.” Her voice fell. “Do you think we can do it by then?”

“We have to. Anyway, now that Junior McGrail isn’t advertising in the
Clarion
, let’s make hay while the sun shines.”

“She’ll advertise in the
Trumpet.”

“So, we’ll get all the new people in South Runnymede.”

“Julia, there are no new people in South Runnymede.”

“Louise, you’re such a pessimist, besides which I’ve got some really good ideas.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

T
he events of the last two days had drained Louise, but she didn’t realize it until she met Juts at their store to pick out wallpaper. She sat on the floor with a thud. Her Boston bull, Doodlebug, squatted next to her, ignoring the entreaties of Buster to play.

“Julia, after what happened yesterday I should think you’d give Buster a rest.”

“You’re the one who needs a rest. You look like the dogs got at you under the porch.”

Louise snarled, “Thank you so much.”

“Jeez, Louise, if I can’t tell you, who can?” Juts bent her head over the big wallpaper book. “These colors are good but the pattern is too busy. Chinese ladies under willow trees. Now, let’s see—”

“Don’t turn the pages so fast. You know, Juts, I still don’t think this is such a good idea. The wallpaper will peel. We should paint and be done with it. A high-gloss.”

Julia pointed to many cracks in the walls. “Do you know how long it will take to fix those?”

“Pearlie said he’d come on down in the evening and do every single one.”

“He did?”

“He’s being very cooperative. Any luck with Chessy?”

In a voice higher and thinner than usual, Juts replied, “He’ll do it.”

Louise sighed. “It’s been a hectic week, hasn’t it?”

“Hectic? It’s been crazier than hell. Must be something in the air.” She lifted the heavy sample book off her lap and gave in surprisingly easily. “If Pearlie will fix those cracks, then we ought to go with high-gloss.”

“Something that won’t show the dirt so easily.” Louise was glad her little sister saw things her way for a change. “A good rich color.”

“Basic black.”

“Will you concentrate?”

“I am. I lugged this book over, didn’t I? You know, we need a radio in here right now. We’re going to be hours and hours on our feet, so let’s get some music. Hey, don’t forget the dance this weekend out at Dingledine’s.”

“I’m too tired to think about dancing.”

Each year the nursery held a big dance at the old barn on the property. If it rained they went indoors, if not they danced outside on a specially constructed dance floor. The Dingledines knew partyers would pass through the nursery, see the spring shrubs and flowers, and maybe come back during the day to pick some up.

“Louise, why don’t you go home and take a nap? I’ll do this.” Juts pulled measuring tape out of her pocket.

“I’m better off here. If I go home I’ll find even more to do. Mary and Maizie aren’t lifting a finger these days. All Mary does is moon, cry, or sing. Maizie gets distracted by Mary and then she’s late doing her schoolwork. That comes first, so the chores—” She trailed off.

Juts, not especially riveted by tales of domestic arrangements, walked across the room. She held the tape with her thumb on the floor, then ran it up three feet. “Countertops this high.”

“Wait a minute.” Louise scrambled to her feet, walking gingerly for a few steps. Then she stood next to the tape, making
imaginary grooming movements, reaching for scissors and combs. “Three inches higher.”

Juts ran the tape up three inches. “Pretty good?”

“I think so. Let me hold it for you.” Louise pinched the top of the tape, holding it steady.

Juts performed imaginary motions herself. “That’s fine with me. Ought to work in case we take in other hairdressers, unless one is a midget.” She reached for the tape. “Now, over here I think we should build a wall so we can have a little private space in the back.”

“We’ve got a storage closet back there. Go sit in the storage closet if you need privacy. It’s big enough.”

“Louise, that will last ten minutes and we’ll both hate it. All Chessy has to do is throw up some two-by-fours out to here, see?”

“And where do we get the money?”

“We don’t. He can ask Walter Falkenroth for leftovers. There’s always waste. It will cost us lathing and more paint, but we get privacy.”

“What are you going to do with that privacy?”

“Smoke a cigarette, drink a beer, and play solitaire.”

“You will not drink during working hours.” Louise put her foot down.

“Don’t be a pill.”

“I won’t have it. As for smoking, that cigarette is stapled to your lip. You don’t need to go in the back room to puff.”

“I happen to be smoking right now, but I don’t smoke as much as you say. Anyway, it’s awfully nice to sit down, have a drag and a hot cup of coffee away from the searching eye.”

“Well …” Louise mulled it over. “Only if Chessy can get the wood free.”

“Good.” Julia clapped her hands, which made both dogs run over to her. “Sorry, guys.” They sat back down. “We’ll have to give Harmon’s wife free haircuts, and let’s see—who else?”

“Why?”

“Because he could have thrown Mary and Extra Billy in jail, that’s why. Wheezer, are you sick or something? You’re not firing on all pistons today.”

“I’m pooped.”

“I’d be pooped too, if my daughter ran off with a no-’count. Firing the gun wasn’t her finest hour, either.”

“She’s high-strung.”

“High-strung? She’s certifiable!”

“Julia, there is nothing wrong with my daughter’s mind.”

“There is now.”

“You usually stick up for her.” A hint of anger crept into Louise’s voice.

“No, what I do is tell you to lay off Extra Billy. The more she’s around him, the more she’ll see him for what he is, a very handsome piece of white trash.”

“She’s not your daughter.”

“Let’s not get into this. We’re both tired. We’ve got one month left to get everything ready. I’m trying to find a salon that’s going out of business. Maybe we can pick up equipment cheap. I called some shops in Baltimore and they promised to call back if they hear anything. Maybe you could call York and Hagerstown so all the long-distance charges won’t be on my line. Chester’s still mad about all this.”

“He’ll get over it. Say, did you see Rillma Ryan at the train station yesterday? I passed her coming back from Mom’s. She looked so pretty all dressed up. Imagine having a job in Washington.”

“Yeah, if I weren’t a married woman I’d go on down myself. Men everywhere!”

Louise would die before she’d admit that she felt life was passing her by. She had never worried about that before, but lately the thought lazed through her mind like one of those biplanes with
advertising streamers dragging along the beach at Atlantic City. You never knew when it was coming. You’d hear a drone and next thing you knew there it would be, the pilot waving as he came in just beyond the shoreline. Her streamer read, “You’re getting old. How long have you got?”

“Julia—?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“How about painting up to here a deep clear red and then putting up a chair rail and white above that?”

“That will look silly without wainscoting, and don’t tell me you can get wainscoting for free, Julia, because I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” Juts looked outside the window, saw Mary on the other side of the street, and checked her watch. “What’s Mary doing out of school at one-thirty?”

“What?” Louise followed Juts’s pointing finger. “I’ll soon find out.” She briskly walked to the front door, opened it, and called out, “Mary, what are you doing out of school?”

“They let us out early today, Mom.” Mary crossed the street. “I went home but you weren’t there so I came over here.”

“Why did they let you go early?” Louise was suspicious.

“The boiler broke down so they let us out before it got too cold. It’s only forty-five degrees. You can call Mrs. Grenville and find out for yourself,” she said defiantly.

“Now that you’re here, you might as well go to work.” Louise let the challenge pass.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“She’s on her way. I asked her to bring stuff.”

About that time, Maizie waddled around the corner carrying two heavy buckets.

“You could have helped her.”

Mary, without reply, hurried back outside, taking one of the buckets from her sister’s sagging grasp.

Juts peered in the buckets when the girls came inside. “Tape, chalk, hammers, nails, oh, here’s a folding measuring stick that’s better than what I’ve got.”

Louise turned up the thermostat on the wall. “It is getting pretty chilly, isn’t it.” The old radiators thumped. “We’re going to have to bleed these radiators.”

Juts grabbed tape and chalk and began marking the space on the floor where the cabinets would go.

“Mary, was this your idea—to help?”

“Yes, Mother.” Mary smiled her biggest, sweetest smile.

Y
oyo had been under house arrest ever since her Easter worship service. Eyes half closed, the cat sat in the window. Buster’s barking as he rounded the corner sent her off the windowsill to the door. However, Juts knew a cat trick or two, so the minute she opened the door she bent over and scooped up the escape artist before one paw crossed the threshold.

“Gotcha.”

Yoyo meowed in protest but dutifully allowed Juts to place her on her shoulder and pat her back as though she were a baby. She withheld the purrs until she smelled chicken in the sack Juts carried in her right hand.

Immediately following Julia was Mary, who quickly shut the door. She too carried a sack of groceries.

“Aunt Juts, where should I put this stuff?”

“Kitchen table.”

They unpacked groceries, then Juts cut up the chicken, carefully scrubbing each piece of meat before placing it on a sheet of wax paper. Sprinkled over the wax paper were flour and spices she mixed for her fried chicken. Sitting on the counter were two brown eggs, which she was going to crack. She would roll the chicken in the egg, then dredge the chicken through the flour and spices. Fried chicken was her specialty.