The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies (36 page)

Bessie climbed into the front seat. Lizzy opened the back door and got in beside Violet—and saw, to her surprise, that Violet was holding something in her arms, tightly wrapped in a pink flannel receiving blanket.

“Oh, my!” she whispered, leaning closer. Violet pulled the blanket back so Lizzy could see. The little face was round and pink, the mouth like a rosebud. “Why, it’s a baby!” Lizzy exclaimed. “A beautiful baby!”

Bessie turned around in the front seat as Mr. Clinton put the Ford in gear and they chugged off. “A baby!” she asked. “Why, Violet, wherever did you—”

“She’s my sister’s baby,” Violet said. Her delicate heartshaped face was pale and the freckles stood out on her nose. “Baby Dorothy.” She traced the baby’s cheek with the tip of her finger. “My sister died last week.”

“We know,” Lizzy said, and touched her arm gently. “Myra May told us. But she didn’t tell us you were bringing—”

“That’s because she doesn’t know,” Violet said, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell her over the telephone—I was afraid she might say she didn’t want us. But I couldn’t just come home and leave Dorothy behind. Her father can’t take care of her, and there’s no family on either side. I’m all the family she has. And she’s all I have left of my sister.” The tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and she pulled the baby tighter against her, as if she were shielding her against harm. “Dorothy’s father wanted to give her to an orphanage.”

“An orphanage?” Bessie asked in a horrified tone. “That precious baby? How could he do such a terrible thing?”

“It’s terrible, yes, but I can’t blame him,” Violet replied. “He’s nearly desperate, you know—losing his wife and having to go to work every day, with no one to take care of the baby. So he had a talk with the social worker and told her to come and get her this morning. He said he never wanted to see her again.”

“Oh, dear,” Lizzy said.

“But I couldn’t let them have her!” Violet exclaimed almost wildly, clutching the baby. “I packed her diapers and the little things I’d bought for her and sneaked out of the apartment before dawn. I walked to the station and caught the first train heading south. That’s why I’m here today, instead of Thursday, which is what I told Myra May. Oh, I do hope she’ll let me keep her!” The words tumbled out almost incoherently, and Lizzy could see that Violet was nearly exhausted.

“Well, of course you couldn’t let them have her!” Lizzy exclaimed indignantly. “How could you? You’re Dorothy’s aunt, for pity’s sake. You
had
to take her!” Lizzy didn’t want to think about the possible legal problems that lay ahead. But surely a court would agree that Baby Dorothy was better off with her aunt than with a strange family. And these days, so many families had had to place their children in orphanages that they were full. Maybe there wouldn’t be any legal action.

“And you shouldn’t go second-guessing Myra May, either,” Bessie said in a practical tone. “You know as well as we do that she’s got a big heart, and she cares about you. Why, you’re her best friend! I’m sure that what’s best for you and Dorothy is going to be just fine with her.”

“I agree,” Lizzy said. She grinned. “And I hope she’s going to be so glad to see you—and so surprised and delighted to meet little Dorothy—that she doesn’t notice that Bessie and I came back without Big Bertha.”

Which is of course exactly what happened. Mr. Clinton dropped them all off in front of the diner. Bessie held the door for Violet, who was carrying the pink-wrapped bundle, and Lizzy brought up the rear, toting Violet’s suitcase and the bag of Dorothy’s diapers. Most of the dinner customers had finished and gone, and there were only a few to see Myra May give a loud whoop and rush to fling her arms around Violet, and then step back and give another whoop when she saw the baby. And if Violet had had any lingering worries about whether Myra May would welcome Baby Dorothy into their home, she must have been comforted when she saw Myra May’s face soften and a smile quiver on her lips.

“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed. “What a beautiful baby. What a
beautiful
little baby!”

It was a while before Lizzy could get Myra May’s attention long enough to hand her Big Bertha’s key and tell her that she’d have to send somebody from the filling station out to the cemetery with a battery, to see if they could get Bertha started and drive her home.

Myra May didn’t seem to mind at all.

The Darling Dahlias’ annual talent show was held a few weeks after Violet came home from Memphis with Baby Dorothy and Frankie Diamond was extradited to Illinois on murder charges and Miss Jamison’s plea deal was successfully worked out between the Treasury (who needed Lorelei LaMotte as a witness against Capone and an honest Illinois judge, who was just as happy that the Blade was no longer roaming the streets). And as Mr. Moseley told Lizzy, the T-boys’ case against Al Capone was moving right along. They expected to be able to indict him early in the next year on charges of tax evasion. As for Miss Jamison’s safety, it was clear that the Chicago gangsters had no intention of sending another of their pals to Darling, where he might be subjected to an African slave song, a Rebel yell, and indefinite imprisonment in the Darling jail.

But of course, very few people in Darling knew anything about Frankie Diamond or Lorelei LaMotte or Al Capone’s unpaid taxes. Most Darlingians had met Baby Dorothy, though, and agreed with Doc Roberts, who gave her a good going-over and pronounced her the sturdiest, sweetest little cupcake he had ever seen. In fact, business at the diner was up by nearly ten percent over the past few weeks, since lots of folks wanted to come in and meet Cupcake, the enchanting little blue-eyed creature with (as it turned out) the most beautiful strawberry curls in all of Southern Alabama.

But if Darlingians knew very little about the momentous events of national significance that had transpired in their own small town, most of them thought they knew exactly what was coming when they settled into their wooden folding chairs in the Darling gymnasium, where the basketball floor had been covered with canvas to keep it from getting scratched. All the acts were listed in their programs, produced during several frustrating hours with the Academy’s old mimeograph machine, which had (predictably) eaten Lizzy’s carefully typed stencils. The audience had already seen almost all of the acts, anyway, because they were old favorites that appeared every year.

The program started off with Carsons’ Comedy Caravan, featuring the Carson brothers, Billy and Willy, two old men who had been on the vaudeville circuit back in the Gay Nineties. Their jokes were long out of date, but still the audience laughed, so as not to hurt their feelings. Next came Sammy Durham, who made a big hit with his drum solo, especially with the younger folks who appreciated his syncopated style. The quartet of Tumbling Tambourines flipped and flopped across the stage, astonishing all with their daredevil acrobatics, performed to the accompaniment of rattling tambourines, which they tossed from one to another. Mr. and Mrs. Akins followed with their famous Spanish fandango—but this time, the audience was in for a real treat, because they danced to a recording (played on the Academy’s Victrola) of part of Maurice Ravel’s stirring new piece,
Boléro.
However, some in the audience were disappointed, because the Akins’ fandango wasn’t nearly as
infamous
as it had once been. Mrs. Akins had added quite a bit more cloth coverage in crucial areas of her costume.

After the Akins danced off the stage, old Mr. Trubar and his dog Towser came on to do their trombone act, which was always fun, even if everybody had seen it five or six times. Trubar and Towser were followed by an act that most hadn’t seen before, and the excitement brought the entire audience to the edges of their chairs. This was the Juggling Jinks, two boys who juggled balls, wooden clubs, apples and oranges, pineapples, knives, and even flaming torches—all the while making jokes and dancing and taunting one another. Their prowess and their glib patter so thoroughly amazed and entertained the crowd that they were called back for an encore.

After the Jinks, Miss Rogers’ slow, sepulchral reading of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven” gave everyone a chance to settle back in their seats, catch their breaths, and calm down. But this politely applauded performance was not the finale of the program, oh, not at all! There was one more act to come. On the program, it was simply listed as “Tiptoe Through the Tulips with Melody Kilgore and Friend.” It started with a tap dance by little Melody (Mildred and Roger Kilgore’s daughter), dressed in a pink satin costume with a big pink tulip on her head. She tap danced to Nick Lucas’ recording of “Tiptoe Through the Tulips,” played on the Victrola, in front of a row of painted wooden tulips.

But that wasn’t the end of it. When Melody finished her dance and scampered offstage, Miss Nona Jean Jamison stepped through the curtains and sang her own version of the song to the accompaniment of a mandolin, played backstage by her friend Miss Lake. The brown-haired Miss Jamison was
not
nearly naked, as the platinum-haired Lorelei LaMotte would have been, of course. Instead, she was dressed in a white, frilled, full-skirted Southern belle costume, with a lacy, flower-trimmed white parasol. Then Melody danced back onstage and joined Miss Jamison. Holding hands, the two tap-danced together, the little pink tulip and the big Broadway star, although of course only a very few people knew about Miss Jamison’s previous career as one of the nearly naked dancers in Mr. Ziegfeld’s Frolics—and they weren’t telling.

The act brought down the house. For a long time afterward, nothing else was talked of but that adorable, demure,
darling
Miss Nona Jean Jamison.

Terms that may be unfamiliar to modern readers are starred. You’ll find a glossary at the end of this article. None of these cleansers contain any petroleum products and all are “natural.”