The Wedding Circle (14 page)

He knew better than to resist the interrogation and complied quickly. “Yes, I ate. Some of my own gumbo. And I don't look thin in the face.”

“You lost some weight. I know what I'm talkin' about.”

“Okay, yes, a little. I've taken my belt in a loop. I've been working hard, that's all.”

Ardenia looked dissatisfied but moved on with a wave of her hand. “I do have somethin' else I wanna tell you.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “And what's that, Mama?”

“I think somebody followed me home from the gas station today. It's been worryin' me ever since.”

He drew back, tilting his head as if he hadn't heard her right. “You sure about that? Maybe it was just somebody going the same way for a while.”

“I mighta thought that, too. But I know near 'bout everybody here along Big Hill Lane, know what kinda car they drive and all. It was a big white truck behind me, and nobody out here own one.”

They both sat with that for a while. “Maybe somebody was lost,” Mr. Place said finally, perking up. “These back roads are pretty confusing.”

“Could be. They turned around once I went on down the hill to the house. But I still thought it was mighty strange. I got this shiver up my spine like you do when you out in the yard and suddenly spy a snake nearby that you nearly step on.”

“Could you tell anything about the driver in the rearview mirror?”

Ardenia shook her head emphatically. “No, they had that dark, smoky glass where you cain't see in. I tell you, that kinda glass is downright scary. Could be anybody in there up to no good.”

He decided to try and lighten the mood. “Now, what am I gonna do with you, Mama? You had no business going into town to fill up your car like that in the first place. I told you, I want you to let me do things like that now.”

She let go of his hand and puffed herself up to reaffirm her dignity. “You actin' like I cain't hold on to the steering wheel. Well, I got my arthritis under control, and I just got me a new prescription for my glasses from Dr. Casey, so I can see a whole lot better now. I can take care a' myself.”

“I know you can,” he told her, capturing her hand once again and stroking it gently. “But when I came down to live with you, I thought we agreed that if you kept an eye out for me, I'd do the same for you. I'm in good health and have myself a terrific job at The Twinkle. And I have you to come home to every night. Let me keep up my end of the bargain.”

She turned away briefly and worked the muscles of her face into what amounted to a mask of a smile. “Well, long as you brought up The Twinkle again, I had somethin' else on my mind. I don't want it to seem like I'm interferin', though.”

“What are you talking about, Mama?” But even as the words escaped his mouth, he knew only too well what she meant. They were just too bound up in each other these days for any sort of misinterpretation.

“It's the way you talk about her all the time,” she began. “I was in love once myself. 'Course I coudda done way better than Sammy Bedloe, but that just the way it played out when I was a silly-head young thing and thought he would do right by me. He did give me a son, though, so I thank him for that. But it's no use you hidin' it from me any longer, baby. You love that Miz Lattimore. I know you do.”

He said nothing at first but decided it was pointless to play games. “How long have you known, Mama?”

“Awhile now. You come home every night, and you might as well be bringin' her with you the way you carry on. ‘Peri say this, and Peri did that. Peri wore this, and Peri told this funny joke.' It was just like that time you had that crush on little Bercelia Ann Jefferson way back in grade school. I thought you'd crumple up in a heap and die, you had it so bad for that little girl!”

So, she had beat him to the punch on the subject of his love life. But he smiled anyway. “I never could keep anything from you.”

“You right, no way you could. But I'm still gonna worry. I know you think it the twenty-first century out there, but not in some folks' hearts. You and Miz Lattimore best be on the lookout.”

He still couldn't stop smiling at the way his mother had his back for the zillionth time in his life. How could he be mad about that? Still, what she needed was a little perspective. “You remember how you worried about me when you sent me off to school that first day it was integrated? But nothing bad happened then or even up until I graduated. Miss Voncille was my homeroom teacher, and from the very beginning she saw to it that I fit in.”

“Yes, baby, I may be old, but I'll never forget that time and how my heart hurt when I said good-bye to you at the door that first day. I didn't stop hurtin' 'til the bus brought you home, too. 'Til I saw you walk through the door with that pretty smile you got right now.”

He patted her hand and drew back just enough to get a better look at her. “You are not old, Mama. At least not the way you mean.”

“But I'm old enough to know that you and Miz Lattimore better think twice about everything,” she added, her demeanor as serious as he had ever witnessed. “Somethin' else happen when I was at the gas station I need to tell you about. I really think you oughtta hear it.”

“Now, you see, Mama, you going to the gas station is nothing but bad news. You let me take care of the gas tank from now on. I'm serious,” he told her, trying for humor.

“You gonna let me tell my story?”

He nodded dutifully. “Go ahead.”

“Well, while I was down there, I went inside to get me some milk 'cause we just run out. And there was this black teenager—don't know who he was, so maybe he wudd'n from around here—but anyway, there he was, wearin' his pants down so low you could see his underwear. Wearin' some plaid boxer shorts—which I had no business knowin'. I don't know why these kids think everybody want to see somethin' like that. But anyhow, this new clerk they got in there, he raise his voice, ‘If you wanna buy somethin' in here, you better pull those pants up, boy!' ”

Mr. Place could only shrug. “Maybe I would've said the same thing. I hate that look myself. I know we wouldn't serve anyone at The Twinkle who came in like that. Same if they came in barefoot or without a shirt. Seems to me there are certain rules of decency that should apply to everyone.”

“But my point is, that clerk, he called him ‘boy.' Seem like he was just waitin' to say it to him. That was the excuse, and it was some old school stuff right there. I know. I lived through it back in the day.”

“I think you might be overreacting, Mama. I don't think that has anything to do with civil rights.”

She looked incredulous while shaking her head. “No?”

“Listen. They got signs all over the place now that say, ‘No shoes, no shirt, no service.' Even saw one once that mentioned pulling up your pants. Imagine having to tell people that. But it has nothing to do with race anymore. Besides, what's that got to do with me and Peri? Don't you want me to be happy? You've said that to me practically all my life.”

“Now, I know you're not sayin' that to me,” she said, her mood lightening a bit. “Here you are fifty-four years old and still not settled down. Course I want you to be happy. But when a black man and a white woman get too friendly in a small town like this, not everybody that crazy about what they see. You know I'm tellin' you the truth, baby.”

“It's not like we're flaunting our friendship, Mama. And I wouldn't exactly say we're going out.”

“You coudda fooled me. Sister Leola Perkins at the church told me she drove by and saw the two a' you carryin' on so in front of The Twinkle under the awning one afternoon.”

His gaze grew both studied and skeptical. “Carrying on a conversation and taking a break was more like it. Maybe laughing and talking out on the sidewalk. It's a free country last time I looked. I don't apologize for that, and I'm not about to start running scared after all these years. This town has handled its race problems better than most around the South. You should know that better than I do.”

She gripped his hand as tight as her arthritis would allow. “I just couldn't stand to see anything bad happen to you or Miz Lattimore, that's all. I don't care how old you get, you'll always be my baby boy.”

He could see she needed the reassurance of a hug, so he gave her one that lasted a good fifteen seconds, followed by a couple of gentle pats on the back. “And you'll always be my mama. If it'll make you feel any better, though, I promise you that Peri and I will be as discreet as we possibly can from here on out. But, honestly, I don't think our customers are spending a lot of time trying to read between the lines when they see us working so well together at The Twinkle. Maybe they think it's just professional, maybe they don't. But that's where I disagree with you about the millennium. I think we've made enough progress that even if Peri and I do decide to spend the rest of our lives together, we'll be able to do it in peace.”

“I hope you right, baby,” she said with a sigh that left her slumping in place. “I guess I'm stuck back in the day when the Ku Klux marched in sheets all over the South and people bombed out the schools, burned crosses in folks' yards, and and all like that. Maybe I should get my head outta that awful place for good. Just never did see you fallin' for a white woman.”

“Surprised me, too, Mama.” He cut his eyes to the side as he dredged up his recent memories. “At first, I was just grateful that Peri had hired me, since I needed a job so bad after they tore down the hotel up in Memphis. But then she went through all that trouble with her ex-husband trying to get her back, and it seemed like I was the one she always turned to for advice when she was so confused. After that, things just started to fall in place. I wasn't seeing her as a white woman. I was just seeing her as a woman who'd been hurt, and something inside me wanted to reach out and help.”

“You a sweet, kindly man, and I know you got that from me. Sammy Bedloe was one mule-headed so-and-so who didn't care about nobody but himself. And when he up and left us one day like he did right after you turned three, I said, ‘Good riddance, and please don't let the door hit you in that way too big behind a' yours on the way out!' ”

They both enjoyed a gentle laugh; then he said, “I'm proud if I take after you, Mama. You taught me from the time I was a little boy how to look after myself in this crazy world, and that's how I know nothing bad will happen to me the rest of the way. I learned my lessons well.”

She started tearing up and took off her thick glasses to wipe her eyes. “I know you did, baby, but no way on God's green earth could I stand it if somethin' did happen to you. I just couldn't go on—I want you to understand that here and now.”

The unexpected burst of emotion behind her words gave him pause. Perhaps he and Periwinkle
had
been too cavalier about their friendship, making assumptions about acceptance that weren't warranted. Yet, what he had told his mother was also true: He had never lived in fear because of her strength and guidance. It all meant the conflict that had simmered on the surface of his brain during his drive home was far from resolved. And even though he had largely dismissed it as his mother's overactive imagination, there was something vaguely unsettling about her insistence that someone had been following her from the gas station to Big Hill Lane.

12

Arrivals and Departures

O
ne week before her wedding was to take place, Maura Beth was summoned unexpectedly to Councilman Sparks's office for reasons unknown. “I want to share something very important with you. But you're to keep everything I reveal to you this afternoon in strictest confidence for the time being,” he had told her over the phone as she was sitting at her office desk daydreaming about the big day that was fast approaching. In her current interrupted fantasy, none of the New Orleans area contingent were being a problem—least of all her high-maintenance mother. In fact, they were all applauding vigorously at the recitation of the breathtaking sunset vows, followed by cameras flashing with abandon and much consumption of champagne punch and other spirits.

Maura Beth had to admit she was intrigued by the phone call, since Councilman Sparks had volunteered nothing further; but from his relaxed tone, she could only hope that his news might be good for once. That it would not be threatening her libraries—both old and new—or her hard-won position in the community. Particularly not this close to her wedding with all the stress it entailed.

“Let me put you at ease,” he began, once she had settled in across from him a few hours later. “This has nothing to do with the library. Zilch, nada. Well, not directly anyway.”

Maura Beth disliked the qualifier but pretended she had not heard it. “I think I've known you long enough to recognize good news when I see it in your face, Councilman. So tell me all about it.”

He leaned forward, casting aside the usual photo-op affectations. “I guess you've heard that we went ahead and prepared the land north of town for industrial prospects? The Charles Durden Sparks Industrial Park is finally a reality. We, uh, found the money, so to speak.”

“Yes, funny thing about that, huh? The library never had to be the sacrificial lamb you made it out to be, and I never should have had to go through all that petition nonsense. You politicians just love to pick on libraries when it comes to getting your way.”

His laughter was directed at the ceiling, and it lingered a bit longer than was necessary. But when he caught her gaze again, he was all business. “That's why I wish you had come to work for me when I asked you to. You're such a perceptive person. Eventually, you get it all figured out every time. You'd have been a tremendous asset as my secretary. I just wish you weren't so damned straightlaced. We could have had some fun.”

With a tremendous sense of satisfaction, Maura Beth noted that his latest inappropriate comments did not faze her in the least. She was getting so much better at handling his incessant, roguish self-importance. “Water under the bridge, Councilman. Or at least the road not taken, and that
will
make all the difference. At any rate, let's don't go there anymore. So, what's your big news?”

He settled back, holding a pen between his fingers as if he were smoking a cigarette. Oddly, it flashed into Maura Beth's head that it made him look slightly effeminate, instead of the power broker of Cherico that he actually was. Or maybe it was just that she was no longer intimidated by anything he said or did. She now saw him as the poseur he really was. “We have our first genuine prospect for the park, and we should know in about a month or so if they'll definitely be coming to town and locating the plant here. Their arrival would mean much-needed jobs for Cherico, and that will increase our tax base. In the long run that means more money for all the municipal departments—including that library of yours we're building out on the lake. So there's the indirect part, and that should make you very happy.”

Maura Beth wanted to exhale physically, but she settled instead for mental relief and one of her most diplomatic smiles. “Well, that really is good news. My sincerest congratulations to you for all your hard work on behalf of Cherico. If you don't mind my asking, what's the name of this fantastic industrial prospect that just can't wait to come here?”

“Keep in mind that this musn't get out until they've signed on the dotted line,” he reminded her. “But it's a new cowboy boot manufacturer that wants to expand—Spurs 'R' Us. Kinda kicky, huh?”

Maura Beth's laugh was genuine enough, even if she halfway wondered if he was joking. “I'd say so, yes. There's even a Broadway play called
Kinky Boots
that's all the rage now. Plus, cowboy boots do go over quite well in this part of the South. So, exactly how many jobs will they be bringing to Cherico?”

“Three-hundred and fifty, at first. But they have plans to expand to over six hundred within two years. It's all good. Why, Cherico could become the cowboy boot capital of the world, eventually!”

Maura Beth had never seen Councilman Sparks this happy and proud. It was almost as if he had just found out his wife was pregnant, and he just couldn't wait to spread the word. “I promise I won't say anything until I get the green light from you.” She rose quickly and offered her hand, not wanting to stay any longer than she had to. Lingering with the man was almost always an unwise decision. “Congratulations again, Councilman. I applaud your vision.”

“Nice to hear that coming from you, Miz Mayhew. I'm really not a bad guy, you know.”

“We'll just keep that little secret between us,” she said with a wink.

He escorted her to the door where they said their goodbyes, and she was almost out of earshot when she turned back at the last second, crossing in front of Lottie Howard's desk. “Oh, by the way, Councilman, we haven't gotten your RSVP for the wedding yet. I assume you did get your invitation?”

He seemed to be genuinely astonished by her question, and she knew he was a man who was very seldom surprised. “Well, I know we got it because Evie mentioned it a while back at the dinner table. I thought she had gone ahead and taken care of it, though. I'll remind her. But, yes, we intend to be there to watch you tie the knot with your shop teacher.”

“English teacher.”

“Ah, yes. How could I forget?”

Maura Beth quickly conjured up a dig of her own as she gave him a saucy smile. “I'm sure you made a point of it. But, anyway, I wanted you to know that you'll get to meet lots and lots of my distant relatives at the wedding. That will be your punishment for all you've put me through lately.”

 

When Maura Beth returned to the library, she was greeted by the intriguing sight of Nora Duddney and Renette laughing like girlfriends behind the front desk, their faces flushed bright pink.

“What are you two up to?”

“Miz Mayhew, meet my new assistant,” Renette said, pointing while still full of giggles. “No, I'm just kidding. Nora's just given me the best news, so I made her come around here so I could give her a big hug.”

Maura Beth put her purse down on the counter and cocked her head. “So tell me already.”

“Well, Maura Beth, I can hardly believe it myself,” Nora said. “But I've met someone. It happened this past Wednesday at the church supper. Cherico officially has a new gentleman in town—Mr. Wally Denver, and he and I just seemed to hit it off while we ate our spaghetti and meatballs.”

Maura Beth immediately joined the giggling. “Just like a scene from
Lady and the Tramp,
I guess. But I really am so happy for you. And when do we get to meet this Mr. Denver of yours?”

Nora emerged from behind the counter, and said, “That's what I wanted to talk to you about, if I could.”

“Well, come, let's go into my office and have a seat.”

No longer the dull, shy secretary of old, Nora cut to the chase once they had settled inside. “I was just wondering if I might bring Wally as my guest to the wedding. I mean, it doesn't say ‘and guest' on the invitation, so I thought I needed to run it past you.”

“Of course you can bring him. You didn't even have to ask. In fact, I can't think of a better way to meet him,” Maura Beth said. “This really is such exciting news, Nora. No wonder you and Renette were cutting up so much.”

“We're sister bridesmaids, after all!” Nora exclaimed. Then she leaned across the desk and gave Maura Beth a wink. “I can't believe how much my life has changed since I had the courage to join The Cherry Cola Book Club. It's all been smooth sailing since then. You know, just the other day I was thinking that your book club is way better than any therapy out there—plus, it's way less expensive.”

Maura Beth leaned back in her chair, looking like she had conquered the world. “That's some high praise, Nora. I've never thought of the book club quite that way, but you're probably right. It really does provide all of us with a great opportunity to get to know each other—and help each other out as we go along, too. But there's one more thing I'd like to say to you, Nora. You have truly arrived, and every time I see you, you're more confident than ever—why, you're practically glowing. I really am so proud of you.”

Nora hung her head and blushed. “Thanks, Maura Beth. I don't think I could have done it without your encouragement.”

 

Periwinkle hung up the kitchen phone at The Twinkle and stared straight ahead at the gleaming walk-in freezer across the way, her face a mask of bewilderment. She even took the gum out of her mouth and threw it in the nearby trash can. It was just after three o'clock—that blessed lull she always anticipated and truly needed to rejuvenate herself for the dinner service. Mr. Place stood at a nearby counter, mixing up the ingredients for chocolate ganache in a big silver bowl, but also noticing her pose out of the corner of his eye.

“What's wrong? Who was that? I thought you'd never get off the phone. You sure did a lot a' listening.”

She moved closer to him but seemed to be having a great deal of trouble speaking. Then her bewilderment shifted into something resembling a pained expression.

“Peri?” he continued. “What is it?”

“That was . . . Harlan,” she told him, her eyes downcast.

Mr. Place immediately stopped his stirring and drew himself up, his protective instincts apparently kicking in. “Now, what does he want? He better not be bothering you. I've got half a mind to give him a good talkin'-to. Maybe the two of us should've had it out long before now. After all, I know where he lives.”

“No need for anything like that,” she said. “He won't be bothering me anymore.” She glumly pointed to her office. “Let's go in there and sit down.”

Once settled inside at her cluttered desk, she continued to have trouble expressing herself, shuffling papers around absentmindedly as if trying to buy herself some time. Finally, she just blurted it out. “Harlan's leaving town.”

“What!?”

With the worst of it behind her, the rest began to flow more easily. “He's . . . declaring bankruptcy. He'll close down the restaurant and go back to Texas where he came from. He—he wanted me to be the first to know. I mean, I knew The Twinkle had turned into some real competition for him, but I didn't think things had gotten that bad. I . . . I almost feel sorry for him and . . .” She trailed off, apparently lost in thought.

“Well, I guess that's that,” he said, sounding almost flippant about it.

“I guess so, but it just seems like, well . . .” Again, she seemed to be wandering mentally.

“Now, don't tell me you feel guilty about this, Peri. It is what it is. You're a damned good businesswoman, and if he couldn't keep up with you and figure out a way to compete, then he had to suffer the consequences. As we like to say down here in the South, bid'ness is bid'ness.”

Periwinkle was fine with his logic, but her heart was in a very different place. She knew Harlan had tried to manipulate her into a second marriage and had refused to sign the prenuptial agreement she had created to protect herself. Furthermore, he had made a nuisance of himself on and off ever since then, making her imagination work overtime that he still might be stalking her. She had threatened but never followed through on that restraining order. But somehow, she had thought he would always be around, out there by the lake with his stale jukebox tunes playing and drinking buddies trading their stories. Not exactly a viable option for her—but still there on the periphery of her choices. She suddenly realized that something about that notion had been strangely comforting to her. Imagine that!

“You're right, of course,” she told him, emerging from her fog somewhat. “I had a lot to do with his success to start with, and when we broke up, I guess he was flat-out doomed.”

“And that's why he's outta here,” Mr. Place said, making an exaggerated hitchhiking gesture with his thumb. He also had an expression on his face that suggested he was far from sorry to hear of Harlan's imminent departure.

Periwinkle felt a certain resolve overtaking her, and it was reflected in her more confident tone. “I'm sure he was too proud to ask me for money. At least other than trying to get me to marry him. But I saw through that and didn't make the same mistake twice.”

“Yeah, you did. And you have to believe that it all worked out for the best,” he added, looking more smug than ever. “Maybe he'll find himself back in Texas. Maybe that'll bring out his better nature. What part of Texas is it, by the way?”

“Oh, East Texas,” she said, flashing back to a more pleasant time in her life. Pleasant, to be sure, but she had been entirely too naïve for her own good. More than once she had reminded herself that it was a wedding and a marriage that never should have taken place. “Jefferson, Texas, to be exact. He took me there once to show me where he and his mother had lived. It was this tiny little nothing of a shack, not much bigger than Elvis's dogtrot in Tupelo. But we never returned. Actually, the town has a lot more charm than Cherico does. Part Deep South and an extra big helpin' of that special Texas spirit. I kinda liked it.” The suggestion of a smile crept into her face. “We drove up and down the streets, and he pointed out all the house numbers. He said when he was trying to learn how to count, he couldn't get enough of 'em. It was a side of him I never saw again.”