Runny03 - Loose Lips (8 page)

She watched Ramelle, such a graceful woman, blink when the gas flames snapped around the burner. She wondered what her lover knew about her that she didn’t know. Perhaps it was better not to know, really.

“Come sit with me.”

Ramelle jumped. “You startled me.”

“I startled myself. I lost my temper and I apologize.”

Ramelle waved her hand, dismissing the subject. “You don’t like change, my dear. As long as things go according to plan it’s fine. I juggled the plan.”

“Am I that much of a tyrant?”

Ramelle joined her. “An enlightened one.”

Celeste rested her head in the cup of her hand for a moment. “Well—”

“Since you’re so much brighter than the rest of us, we’re all rather happy that you organize life. I know I am.”

“Oh, Ramelle, I’m not brighter than you are—just better read.” Celeste watched the light fall across Ramelle’s delicate features.

“All the Chalfontes are highly intelligent—the Spottiswoods, too.” Ramelle mentioned Celeste’s mother’s family. “Breed the best to the best and hope for the best. Isn’t that what we do with horses?”

“Yes.” Celeste laughed, then added, “Mother favored Carlotta.”

“Oh, she did not. How could anyone favor Carlotta?”

“Carlotta married Herbert Van Dusen, an insipid soul, if ever there was one. Mother thought he was eminently suitable because he had a seat on the stock exchange, though that’s about all he
had. His partners carried him along, but to hear Carlotta tell it you would have thought he had the rapacious wisdom of J.P. Morgan.”

“She loved him, though. We all tend to overstate the virtues of those we love.”

“Oh.” Celeste took a sip. “Do you overstate mine?”

“No.”

“What an elegant fibber you are, Ramelle. I don’t understand why you want to go back to Curtis. He’s too old for combat, but once this vulgar display of organized violence is fully orchestrated, he’ll play his part. He is fifty-seven, you know.”

“If he has his way he’ll get into the fighting somehow. I think he has hated living in his brother’s shadow all these years.”

“Curtis survived the Great War. He acquitted himself with honor.”

“Men don’t think like that. Spotty died a hero’s death.”

“There are moments when I think men are the most peculiar animals God ever put on this earth.”

“They say the same thing about us.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” Celeste watched the gold turn to pink outside as the sun neared the waiting horizon. “Are you angry with me?”

“No. Well—maybe just a little. I don’t like being yelled at. Honey, whatever happens with Curtis, I’d like to be with him until he goes.”

“You could be together here.”

“Curtis will run his business until he’s given orders to go. You know how all your brothers are.”

“You know, I never asked you—are you in love with Curtis?”

“Of course.” Ramelle laughed. “He’s so much like you, only—softer in ways.”

Celeste wanted to say that Ramelle should love her more, but she paused, and instead replied, “He’s fortunate.”

“Oh, Celeste, Curtis is just Curtis. He’s happy-go-lucky. He
belongs in that California sunshine and in the film business. It suits him. He’s one of those men who knows how to get things done—as I said, like you. Nothing stops Curtis, but then again, I suppose nothing stops Stirling, either; it’s just that Stirling has always seemed old to me, even when he was young.” Celeste’s brother in Baltimore piloted the ball-bearing business.

“The price of being firstborn, I should think,” Celeste said.

“I love you, you know. Always and ever.”

“I love you, too.”

“There. We’ve made up. Don’t you feel better?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I feel somewhat relieved. I’m just cross with myself for losing my temper.”

“You’re only human.”

“That’s what disturbs me.” Celeste laughed.

The front door opened and closed with a thud.

“It’s me. Where are you two?” Fannie Jump Creighton, Celeste’s friend since infancy, bellowed.

“Oh, Lord.” Celeste sighed, for Fannie Jump could talk. “We’re in the kitchen.”

Fannie, carrying a heavy shopping bag, lumbered in, dropped the bag on the floor with a soft
clunk
, and said, “I was nearly run over. Kaput. Smashed into the afterlife with no hope of instant resurrection, I can tell you. Flattened, just positively flattened by that goddamned Extra Billy Bitters, who someone should put in jail—”

Celeste interrupted, “Someone will. In good time.”

“Well, in good time might be now because he’s got Mary in the car with Louise chasing and she’s behind the wheel, may all the saints preserve us. You know that Louise couldn’t drive her way out of a burning barn. And in hot pursuit of Louise is Chester Smith with Juts, Maizie, and Paul in the car and Paul is hanging out the window screaming, I tell you, just at the top of his lungs, for his crazy wife to slow down. I think we should call the sheriff. After all, it’s a threat to the public welfare and the
authorities ought to be alerted. But which side? I mean, you know how pompous Harmon Nordness can be, should Billy cross over into Pennsylvania. But the worst part is Mary’s got a gun and she’s shooting out the window, just firing away like cowboys and Indians!”

“What!” both listeners exclaimed at once.

E
xtra Billy flew down Frederick Street hanging left on two wheels as he made for the Emmitsburg pike, but he couldn’t get the old deuce coupe under control. When he finally straightened the Ford out he fishtailed over the Mason-Dixon line. He careened around the northwest side of the square, swerving in front of the Bon-Ton department store. He ran up on the curb, then overcorrected, only to drive right into the beautiful square itself. Mary was waving the gun. When they bumped hard going over the curb, she shot into the roof of the deuce coupe, which scared both of them. Billy didn’t watch where he was going and smashed right into the base of the Yankee general George Gordon Meade. The statue tilted just a bit but the deuce coupe sure got the worst of it.

Dazed, Billy spilled out of the car, sat down hard, then crawled up on all fours to pull a squealing Mary out.

Just then Louise, madder than a stepped-on hornet, also
jumped the curb and came to a lurching halt next to Billy’s car. Chessy, far more prudent, stopped at the intersection by St. Rose of Lima’s, cut the motor, and ran for the accident, as did Juts and Pearlie. On their heels were Celeste, Ramelle, and Fannie Jump, puffing hard since they had run from Celeste’s house, which was close to the square.

Extra Billy, with presence of mind, grabbed the gun from Mary. “I didn’t know she had it, honest, I didn’t.”

Louise yanked Mary to her feet, for she had slumped against the deuce coupe. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Don’t touch me! I hate you!” Mary wailed as she wrapped her arms around Extra Billy’s slender waist.

“Touch you. I will whip you within an inch of your life!”

“No!” Mary screamed.

Pearlie, now at the scene, made a fist ready to hit the young man when Chessy, fast up behind him, grabbed his arm.

“Pearlie, that’s not the way.”

Extra Billy gratefully cast his eyes at Chester and then behind him to the trio of women tromping over the square. The two cars had mashed the flowers, which Celeste gingerly stepped over.

“I won’t go home, I won’t go home!” Mary shrieked.

“You’ll do as I tell you.” Louise reached for her but Mary twisted away, all the while clinging to Billy, gun still in his hand.

Celeste reached for the gun, neatly removing it from Billy’s hand. “You won’t be needing that.”

“Uh—no, Miss Chalfonte.”

“Is it your gun?”

“No, ma’am.”

“It’s Daddy’s.” Mary wept.

When Pearlie spoke, his voice was shaking. “You’d better come home right now. We’ll straighten this out.”

Maizie, eyes big as golf balls, observed the whole thing, her
sister imploring her with looks, since Maizie was always her ally except when the two were fighting.

A siren in the background promised further unpleasantness.

“Shit,” Extra Billy muttered.

“Don’t swear in front of me!” Louise snapped.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Trumbull, I’m sorry about all of this. It didn’t start out like this. We were going to ride over to Baltimore and come right back, but—”

“Don’t lie to me, Billy. You were abducting my daughter.” Louise’s voice was hard.

“Abducting! Hell, Wheezie, she about ran her legs off to get in the car. Car looks pretty bad,” Juts said.

“Keep out of this, Julia! You’re not a mother.”

“Louise, will you calm down? Getting Billy arrested isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Don’t you take her part!”

“I’m not, I’m—”

They all stopped to observe Harmon Nordness stop, lift himself out of the squad car, and size up the catastrophe, then, head down, stride across the debris.

“Hello, Sheriff.” Chester tried to smooth things over. “We’ve got a bit of a situation here, but nothing we can’t get sorted out.”

“Thank you, Chester, I intend to do just that….” Sheriff Nordness licked his fleshy lips. “Who was driving the Ford?”

“I was,” Billy declared.

“You usually run into statues, Billy? I’ve caught you at cockfights. I’ve hauled your poppa in drunk and disorderly with you in the backseat. But I believe this is the first time you and anyone else has ever wantonly defaced state property.”

“It was an accident, Sheriff.”

“Uh-huh.” Harmon put his face right up to Mary’s tearful one. “What have you got to say for yourself, girlie? I’ve got a report that you were shooting a revolver from this very car.”

Mary wailed.

“Oh, Harmon, people do talk.” Fannie Jump fudged it a little. “The gun in question happened to be in the backseat of the car and when Extra Billy encountered a little difficulty steering his car it bounced off the seat and discharged.”

“Gee-od.” Harmon spat a wad of tobacco juice on the ground.

“Crazy things happen.” Juts smiled big.

“Yeah, ’cause crazy people make them happen.” He turned on Juts, who took a step closer to Chessy. “Now folks, I’m going to have to run you all in. Extra Billy and Mary and whoever was driving the Model A.”

“Me.” Pearlie stepped forward.

“Pearlie, why’d you want to do a fool thing like that? That’s not like you.”

“He didn’t do it, I did.” Louise practically pushed her gallant husband out of the way.

“That’s more like it.”

“You can’t take Wheezie without me.” Paul put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“Trumbull, I can do whatever the hell I want around here. I’m the law in this part of Pennsylvania.”

“Indeed you are and I don’t know how you do everything that you do. You’re woefully understaffed, Harmon.” Celeste’s voice rang like silver. “But tomorrow is Easter. Why don’t we all go home, go to church tomorrow, and ask for forgiveness. No crime has been committed other than repair work to George here, and I expect Extra Billy and Mary will have to make good on the statue.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Billy eagerly looked to Harmon. “Yes, sir.”

Harmon, like most low-level officials, entertained a keen awareness of where local power resided. It definitely resided with Celeste Chalfonte even though she lived in Maryland. You just didn’t rile the Chalfontes or Rifes or Frosts or other local
worthies. Besides, the editors of the
Clarion
and the
Trumpet
could make him appear heartless for hauling kids into jail on reckless-driving charges before Easter, even if they did have it coming.

“Tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to let you get these cars out of here. People who go to church in the morning don’t want to be looking at this mess. Then I’m going to call down at Dingledine’s Nursery and ask them to let you all in late to buy tulips and azaleas and then you all are going to plant these tulips and I don’t much care if it takes all night. Then I will assess the damages and we’ll figure it out from there.” He glared at Juts and Louise. “Seems to me you girls already have racked up some expenses in this town.”

Since the deuce wouldn’t start, Chessy, Paul, and Extra Billy pushed it out of the park with Fannie Jump Creighton at the wheel. A still-outraged Louise, on a short leash held by her sister, stomped home to get gardening tools and lanterns.

Celeste and Ramelle, with Maizie, drove on old Route 140 to Dingledine’s, where they had to talk Randy Dingledine into following them with a truckful of tulips, since the Packard could only hold so much.

“Now, Maizie, I don’t want you to be upset by all this. Mary’s in the grips of blind passion.” Celeste searched around for the appropriate vocabulary for a fourteen-year-old girl.

Maizie sighed romantically. “I thought it was swell.”

“Oh, God.” Ramelle rolled her eyes heavenward.