The Fixer Upper (35 page)

“I can’t wait to see them,” I said.

“I made one just for you,” she said shyly. “Now, you don’t have to wear it. You’re right, I have no business telling you how to dress or act, or any of that. I’ll try to do better, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “Can I see the necklace?”

“Sure you want to?” Lynda asked. “It’s kind of a departure for me.”

I held out my hand. “Give.”

She went to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and brought out a little gold silk pouch. Lynda sat down on the bed beside me and, after a moment’s hesitation, dropped the necklace into my open palm.

I’d been expecting one of my mother’s usual bizarre combinations of broken glass, twisted metal, maybe even a fossilized bird’s egg or raccoon tooth. But what she’d made for me was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

A long, slender golden chain, maybe twenty-four-inches, held half a dozen charmlike tokens. Some were gold, others were silver. The center pendant on the chain held a tiny diamond-studded platinum woman’s watch face, suspended from a bit of platinum chain. Beside it was a pale green cat’s-eye marble. There was a small, scrolly, golden, heartshaped locket, and an intricately worked brooch that seemed to represent some sort of fraternal symbol with a small red stone in the middle. Another charm was a stud of some sort, with a pearl in the center, and the last one was a simple, worn gold band.

“Oh, Lynda,” I whispered. “It’s…exquisite.”

She smiled. “Well, it’s much more sentimental than anything I’ve ever done before, but then, I don’t think it’s too terribly self-indulgent, considering who I made it for, and what it represents.”

“Represents?”

“This,” she said, pointing to the watch face, “was your great-grandmother’s watch.”

“Olivia?” I asked.

“No, it was Olivia’s mother’s watch,” Lynda said. “This little marble belonged to your grandfather Dempsey, when he was a little boy. Now, the locket, that was Olivia’s. Open it up, why don’t you?”

With a fingernail, I pried open the locket. Only one side of the locket held a photograph, the other held a lock of pale gold hair. I looked
closely, then up at Lynda. She nodded.

“Your father’s baby picture,” she said. “And that’s Mitch’s first curl.”

She touched the brooch. “This was your great-uncle Norbert’s Masonic stickpin. I hope you don’t mind that I cut off the pin part. And the ruby’s real, by the way.”

“It’s, just…stunning,” I said.

“The pearl was your great-great-grandfather’s shirt stud. Again, real,” she said. “At one time, honey, the Dempseys were totally loaded.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

The gold ring was so small, I could only slip my pinkie halfway through it. “And this?” I asked, knowing the answer already.

She sighed. “Olivia’s wedding ring.”

I stood up and put the necklace around my neck. Lynda took me by the shoulders and turned me around, to fasten the catch.

“I love it,” I declared. “I may never take it off.”

“I’m so glad,” Lynda said softly.

“But, Mom, where did you get all these things? I’ve gone through just about every closet, drawer, and cupboard, and I’ve never found anything remotely like these things.”

“Ella Kate gave them to me,” she said simply. “But you can’t say anything to her about it. She made me swear not to tell.”

“Ella Kate! But she hates my guts. Most of the time she won’t even speak to me. Did she know you were going to give this to me?”

“It was her idea,” Lynda said. “She’s not such a bad old girl. She told me about how you saved her life. Hers and Shorty’s. I think this is her way of thanking you.” She laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ella Kate’s sort of short on sweet words. But don’t let her fool you. She’s very fond of you, Dempsey Jo. She’s been saving these things, bits and bobs, she calls them, all these years, for somebody special. As far as she’s concerned, you’re the last of the line.”

I turned and gave her a hug. “Lynda? Will you do one more thing for me?”

“Anything,” she said.

“Drop the Dempsey Jo, will you?”

W
hen the doorbell rang, I licked my lips nervously. Stop it! I told myself. It’s just Tee and Carter. So what if they are about to meet your mother for the first time? This is just a little dinner and dance at the country club. And even if they all hate each other, Carter and Tee are far too genteel to do anything except feign their absolute delight. I ran into the downstairs bathroom and checked my makeup. It was fine, although my cheeks were a little too pink from excitement. I pulled the hem of my dress down and the neckline up. Was Marc too risqué for the conservative crowd at the Pine Blossom Country Club? I glanced down at my watch. Too late to change now.

I forced myself to walk slowly to the front door. I could see Tee standing there, through the sidelight. He wore a dark suit, white dress shirt, and a wine red silk tie. He was dressed more formally than I’d ever seen him before, and it made him look blonder and taller and grown up. And handsome. Oh, God, how had I never noticed how fine looking a man was T. Carter Berryhill? My stomach did an un-grownup flutter, and I silently cursed myself for being such a giddy little mall girl. He caught sight of me peeking at him through the glass, and gave me a flirtatious wink.

“Are those our dates?” Lynda called. I turned around to see her floating down the stairs. No need for me to have worried about my own appearance. There was almost no chance anybody would notice me tonight—not with Lynda in the same room.

She was wearing a tangerine silk sheath halter dress with a plunging V-neck. Its hem fell demurely at midcalf, but it was slit up both sides to midthigh. Her tanned legs were bare, and she wore impossibly high-heeled gold lamé sandals with skinny straps that crisscrossed her an
kles. She’d twisted her hair up in a messy topknot skewered with a jeweled butterfly clip. Gold-beaded chandelier earrings brushed her bare shoulder tops. My mother looked like an exotic bird that had just flown in from some unnamed tropical rain forest.

Tee rang the doorbell again, and I jerked the door open. “Wow!” he said, looking straight past me, and directly at Lynda, who had paused halfway down the staircase, as though for a photo op.

“Well, Dempsey,” Carter said. He stepped around his starstruck son, took both my hands in his, and kissed them. “My dear, don’t you look lovely tonight?” He nudged Tee in the rib cage. “Don’t you think so, son?”

Tee managed to drag his eyes off Lynda and focus on me. He elbowed Carter aside, and brushed his lips across my cheek. “Hey, old man.” He laughed. “Don’t be trying to hit on my woman.”

“You look amazing,” he whispered in my ear.

“Hello,” Lynda said. She’d finally managed to make it down the stairs. We all turned.

“Carter, Tee,” I said dutifully. “I’d like you to meet my mom, Lynda, uh…” For a split second, I couldn’t remember my own mother’s last name. She’d dropped Killebrew right after she and my dad split up, and had gone back to using her maiden name, but then had taken her second husband’s last name, but only for the duration of their three-year marriage. For a brief time, in my teens, she’d even eschewed a last name altogether, insisting on being called only Lynda.

“Lynda Hayes,” she said, smoothly stepping into the void. Oh yeah. Hayes. She’d gone back to using her maiden name again. Duh.

My mother had all the social graces I’d momentarily lost. “So nice to meet you,” she said, shaking Carter’s, and then Tee’s hand. “Dempsey has told me how much you’ve helped her with the house, and of course, with this whole distressing FBI situation. I can’t thank you enough for coming to the rescue of our girl.”

Rescue? I could feel myself bristling, but as always, Carter said just the right thing. “It’s been our privilege to represent Dempsey,” he told my mother. “And of course, to establish a friendship with such a charming young woman.” His eyes twinkled as he looked from Lynda to me.
“And now I can see, as Dempsey assured me when we first met, that she does indeed look just as much like her mother as she does her Dempsey relatives. It seems to me that she’s had the good fortune of inheriting the best of both sides.”

Lynda’s laugh tinkled girlishly, and after a few more minutes of small talk, we all trooped out to Carter’s Mercedes. I’d grabbed a pashmina shawl from the coat closet before leaving the house, but Lynda merely shrugged off the subfifties chill of the early spring night.

“I’m not cold at all,” she insisted when Carter offered to go back to the house for a wrap for her. “This is so refreshing after all that boring heat out in California.”

I climbed into the backseat, and Tee went around and slid in beside me, casually throwing his arm across my shoulders, and pulling me closer. I could hear the murmur of Carter’s voice coming from the front seat, giving my mother the condensed history and guided tour of Guthrie, Georgia.

“Your mom is really something, huh?” Tee said, his lips barely touching my ear. “How come you didn’t mention she was coming to town?”

“I didn’t know myself until she showed up,” I whispered. “After Camerin Allgood took it upon herself to visit my mother to let her know about my noncooperation, Lynda decided to fly out here from California to see what kind of mess I’d gotten myself into.”

Tee nodded thoughtfully. “Something tells me there’re some, uh, unresolved issues between the two of you. Is that an accurate assumption?”

I sighed. “It’s complicated. I love her, but she’s just so…overpowering. So larger than life. I haven’t even seen her in a couple of years. I mean, we talk on the phone. Sometimes. Then, all of a sudden, she sweeps into town and thinks she can fix me. With a new hairdo and a new wardrobe.”

“But you’re not broken,” Tee said, his dark brown eyes crinkling with amusement. “And I, for one, happen to like your hairdo. And your wardrobe.” He ran his finger down my shoulder, and I shivered. “Especially this part of your wardrobe. I like.”

“You’re sweet,” I said gratefully. “But clueless. Anyway, I finally did manage to find the backbone to let her know tonight that I don’t want to be made over. She was hurt, at first, but I think maybe we’re making some progress with this whole mother-daughter thing.” I fingered my charm necklace. “She made this for me today. All the charms have a family connection.” I ticked off the meaning of the baubles as I touched them. “And here’s the funny part, Tee. Ella Kate gave her all these things. She told Lynda she’s been saving them up. For family.”

Lynda turned around then. “What’s all the whispering about back there, you two? Some little lovers’ secrets?”

I felt my face burn. Tee laughed easily. “Dempsey’s just telling me about this awesome necklace you made for her. I had no idea her mother was such a talented artist.”

Lynda beamed. “Not an artist, really,” she said. “Just a tinkerer.”

“Don’t let her kid you,” I said. “Lynda’s jewelry is hot, hot, hot. She sells to shops in Beverly Hills, and even Palm Beach. And wait until you see the magic she worked in the parlor this afternoon. If I thought I could afford her, I’d try to hire her on as an interior designer for Birdsong.”

Lynda blew me an air kiss, and turned around to resume her conversation with Carter.

“That was nice,” Tee said softly, giving my hand an approving squeeze.

“I can play nice sometimes,” I admitted, snuggling back against the warmth of his arm.

“You are playing nice, agreeing to be dragged along to this stupid dance,” Tee murmured. “It was Dad’s idea, and I couldn’t talk him out of it. You and I will be the only ones there without a walker or a wheelchair.”

“You’re exaggerating,” I said. “Carter’s not exactly drooling in his tapioca, you know. And, don’t forget Lynda. Mentally, anyway, she’s younger than both of us.”

“Oh, it looks just like I remember it,” Lynda said as we walked into the entry hall at Pine Blossom. “Except, what happened to the little fountain out front?”

“You’ve been here before?” Carter asked, startled. “But it was my understanding Mitch hasn’t been back here since his mother died years and years ago.”

“Of course I have,” Lynda said. “Mitch had absolutely no interest in coming down to Guthrie, but there was no way I was marrying a man—and having his child—without seeing his roots firsthand. I met Uncle Norbert, and some distant cousins back then, but it’s been so long ago, it all seems sort of hazy now. So much has changed, especially with the mill closed, but then again, some things really are frozen in time, aren’t they?”

“Frozen in time,” Tee said, with a guffaw. “That’s Guthrie, all right. And as for the fountain, it’s been gone for years now. Right, Dad?”

“The fountain met its demise after Bunky Patterson backed into it with his banana yellow Coupe deVille and knocked the statue of Venus de Milo on her derriere,” Carter said. “I believe that was shortly after he hit a hole in one at the member-guest invitational and proceeded to drink his way through an entire case of Budweiser. It was the second time that a member had unwittingly dethroned Miss de Milo, and at that point, the board wisely decided to widen the driveway and porte cochere and do away with the fountain. I believe that would have been sometime in the seventies.”

The Pine Blossom Country Club dinner-dance was obviously the social event of the season in Guthrie. Every table in the dining room was full. The men were dressed in dark suits, the women in cocktail attire—or the Guthrie version of it, which mostly seemed to consist of black dresses and pearls, lots and lots of pearls. I even noticed a few mink coats thrown across chair backs. And yes—I did spot a few walkers and at least one wheelchair. The crowd was, as Tee had predicted, mostly middle-aged or older.

Heads turned as we walked to Carter’s table in the main dining room, but Lynda took it all in stride, nodding and smiling to the barely disguised curiosity she was arousing among Guthrie’s country-club set.

“This is so nice,” Lynda said when we were seated, looking over the table, with its heavy damask cloth, silver candlesticks, sparkling crystal, and old-fashioned arrangement of roses and ferns. “Everything’s so
casual in California, it’s a treat to get dressed up and go somewhere where everything is so special.”

“Well, Tee and I are delighted that you agreed to be our guests tonight,” Carter said, beaming at Lynda’s approval. He lowered his voice. “And may I say that the two of you are undoubtedly the loveliest ladies in the room?”

Lynda giggled. I blushed. Tee squeezed my hand under the table.

We made it through the cocktail hour without incident. Lynda was thrilled to discover that the bar at Pine Blossom carried Stoli, and that the bartender in a backwater such as Guthrie could manage to mix a decent martini. She and Carter sipped their martinis and chatted away, Tee drank Bud on draft, and I myself welcomed the burn of Wild Turkey on the rocks.

When the waiter arrived to take our dinner orders, I held my breath. Lynda looked at the menu—which was heavy on all forms of beef, pork, and chicken—and frowned slightly. “The salmon—is it wild salmon or farm raised?” she asked.

The waiter looked dumbfounded. “It’s just…salmon, I guess,” he stammered. “They don’t tell us where they get it.”

“Hmm. What about the tuna?” she asked. “Is it dolphin safe?”

“Huh?”

She sighed. “All right. I guess I’ll just have a large house salad. Dressing on the side. And another Stoli martini.”

The band started setting up as our entrées arrived. “Check it out,” Tee said quietly, cutting his eyes in the direction of the bandstand. “Mötley Crüe they ain’t.” The five band members were silver haired, and dressed in throwback prom tuxedos complete with matching ruffled peach shirts and bell-bottom trousers.

“See the drummer?” Tee said under his breath. “That’s Bert Fleishman. Mr. Fleishman was my high school chemistry teacher. And we all thought he was ancient back then. Faye Fleishman, his wife, was the home ec teacher. I think maybe she makes all their gig outfits.”

We were finishing our entrées, and the band was still tuning up, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Shirlene Peppers and Jimmy Maynard standing hand in hand beside our table.

“Jimmy,” I blurted out. “You’re wearing pants!”

“And a tie,” Shirlene pointed out. “I’m tellin’ ya, it’s the second coming.”

Jimmy Maynard was, in fact, wearing a natty blue blazer, charcoal slacks, and even the aforementioned tie, a yellow-and-red rep-striped affair. He looked only a little uncomfortable. Shirlene looked an absolute bombshell in a tight-fitting, short, candy apple red satin two-piece dinner suit, and rhinestone-encrusted silver lamé pumps that I was pretty sure were Manolos. Her long dark hair was down tonight, but I could see the gleam of diamond solitaire earrings that looked to be at least two carats apiece.

“Weeellll,” Jimmy drawled. “I was gonna stick to my guns and wear my shorts. But then I got over to Shirlene’s place, and seen what a knockout she was in that red getup of hers, and I said, ‘Son, it’s time to do the right thing.’ So I went on home and dug some long britches out of the mothballs.”

Shirlene patted his head affectionately. “Our little boy is growing up,” she laughed.

Jimmy nodded in the direction of Lynda. “You didn’t tell me you had a sister.”

Lynda giggled appreciatively, and I made the introductions. “This is my mother, Lynda Hayes, who is visiting from California, and Lynda, this is Jimmy Maynard. Jimmy sells real estate, and he paints houses—my house in particular—as a hobby. And, Lynda, this is Shirlene Peppers. She’s a lawyer here in Guthrie.”

“County attorney,” Carter pointed out. “And a mighty fine one too.”

After that, Carter insisted that Shirlene and Jimmy pull up chairs and join our table. Somehow, Jimmy ended up beside Lynda, and Shirlene ended up beside Carter. The band started playing a tune I didn’t recognize, something from the ’40s big band era, I thought, and couples slowly drifted onto the dance floor.

When the second number started, another golden oldie, Carter managed to coax Lynda—with very little effort—onto the floor. They were quite a picture, the silver-haired Carter, with his erect posture and courtly ways, and my mother, fluttering and floating elegantly around the floor.