Alma Mater (5 page)

Mignon glared at Jinx and Vic.

"It's really beautiful, the yellow with the Charleston green shut
ters," Chris remarked.

"Princess Bullshit," Vic whispered to Mignon, drawing out the
word princess in her low voice.

"I hate you," Mignon whispered back.

"Kiss kiss. Hug hug." Vic puckered her lips, and in a flash Mignon
threw a pickle in her face.

"Mignon." R. J. tried to sound stern.

"I wish it was a big fat ice cream cone. Cold strawberry ice cream
going right up her nose."

Vic wiped off her face. "I don't like strawberry."

"Exactly," Mignon sang out.

"I am so grateful to my two nieces." Bunny leaned toward Chris. "They have cured in me any desire to have children."

"Cured it in me, too," R. J. said laconically.

Everyone laughed. It took Mignon a second, but she laughed, too.

Bunny checked her gold Rolex with the Jubilee bracelet. Bunny
had a taste for expensive toys. "I'd better get my car." She glanced at Vic. "Honey, will you run me down to the dealership? I know your
mom's got a million things to do."

"Sure, Aunt Bunny. Chris, come on. You'll see the sights and the
sites. Jinx?"

"Sure, unless" —she looked to R. J.— "you need me to help you clean up?"

Mignon asked, "Where's Piper?"

"In the tobacco shed," R. J. answered. "There's a woodchuck or a
fox or a skunk, I'm not exactly sure, with a burrow under the back side,
and she's on patrol. And no, Chris, I don't need you to clean up, but
thank you for volunteering to help, which my adorable and dutiful daughters did not do."

"Mom, I would have," Mignon protested.

"Oh, yeah." Vic pinched Mignon.

"I didn't hear you say anything."

"How could
1?
You were talking. Oh, how I love to come home
and see my sister."

"Hateful." Mignon turned her nose up, but she obviously loved the
attention.

At fifteen she carried a bit of baby fat, but it was clear to her elders
that Mignon would turn into a lovely woman, perhaps not as beauti
ful as her mother and sister, but plenty good looking. She was impa
tient because she couldn't see it yet. She felt she was taking forever to
grow up.

"If it's a fox or a skunk, you'll smell it." Vic stood up, picking up her
plate and Chris's.

"Actually, you won't." R. J. was wise in the way of animals. "Ani
mals can turn their scent off and on. Plus the old smoke smell is still so
strong in the shed and I'm not sticking my nose at the mouth of any
animal's den. What if she's got babies in there?"

"Good point," Vic responded as she headed toward the back door off the kitchen. "But too late in the season, I think."

"Mom, if you'd stop smoking, your sense of smell would improve,"
Mignon said self-righteously.

"I know." R. J. sighed. "I can give up smoking anytime I want. I've
done it many times."

"Well, I'm not giving up my fags," Bunny defiantly stated. "A girl
needs a little dosage now and then to smooth out the day. It's better
than being on prescription pills like Nora Schonfeld and some others I
could name."

Nora Schonfeld was the sexy younger woman Don had dallied with
that spring but set aside at Bunny's urging. Urging was Bunny's eu
phemism. At the mention of her name no one said a word. Not one word.

After that beat of awkward silence, Vic, becoming more like her
mother every day, stepped in. "You're smarter than Mom, though, be
cause at least you smoke filtered cigarettes."

"But she smokes twice as many as I do." R. J. laughed.

"Well . . . there is that." Bunny recovered her spirits. "But I like my
mentholated Kools. I like the penguin logo."

"It's all tripe." R. J. laughed again. "The plastic filters and the chemi
cals added to tobacco actually make it more dangerous, I swear. If you're
going to smoke, then smoke a pure cigarette and be done with it."

As they headed toward Surry, they passed Boonie Ashley's conven
ience store two miles from the house. The too-small parking lot was
jammed with people picking up loaves of bread on the way home—or
more likely, six-packs of beer.

"Boonie is the biggest gossip," Mignon announced to Chris. She
had been pointing out the sights along the way. The real historical in
formation was interspersed with tidbits like, "Here's where Vic wrecked
Dad's car."

"Men are much worse gossips than women," Bunny announced
over the wind. "They just call it something else. And how they rejoice
when one of them fails. Mmm, mmm." She used that special intonation
among Southern women where the first "mmm" was high and the sec
ond lower.

Regiments of women could converse in Virginia without any
words at all. Mmm, mmm could cover just about everything.

The car dealership, a mile from Surry proper, was impressive. The
huge windows of the steel-and-glass main building reflected the sky and
cumulus clouds. Just inside was a circular reception center on a raised
dais. Hojo Haines, the twentyish, attractive receptionist presided there
in command central.

A few smaller outbuildings were more traditionally sided in clean
white clapboard.

The main building's floor, made of a special terrazzo polished to
perfection, was dominated by three new models, two cars and one
truck, each one spotlighted.

When a customer walked in the front door, Hojo, a little too good
looking for Bunny's taste and a little too young, greeted them and sum
moned a salesperson to help them. But she had sense enough to let
them browse if that's what they wanted. Hojo favored tight pants,
brightly colored blouses, high heels, big earrings, and exotically
painted fingernails. She was also unfailingly cheerful to the customers.

At this particular moment, Hojo was in front of the handsome
main building talking to none other than Nora Schonfeld. Nora's son,
a classmate of Mignon's, was with his mother.

"That bitch." Bunny couldn't help herself.

Jinx leaned over to Chris, whispering the story of Nora and Don in
her ear.

Mignon's eyes widened. This might prove a very interesting trip. Aunt Bunny was known for her spontaneous reactions, in contrast to R. J., who kept a tight lid on it.

"Aunt Bunny." Vic, thinking quickly, scanned the service bays.
"Nora's here because her truck is being serviced."

True enough, Nora Schonfeld's Dodge Ram, a sparkling new
1980
model, sat in the service parking lot.

"Bitch," Bunny muttered again as Vic glided to a stop at the pickup
window.

The woman in the booth waved to Vic. Everyone at the dealership
knew and liked the beautiful young woman. Whatever job she held
over the summer she performed competently and without complaint.
She had even climbed up with the roofers to help replace flashing that
had not been correctly put down.

As Bunny walked to the window to get her keys, Vic turned to
Mignon. "Run up there and pull Buzz and Nora into the showroom.
Go on, Mignon, before there's a scene!"

Much as Mignon wanted a scene, she was delighted to be an im
portant player in the drama. She vaulted out, hurried up to Buzz, and
managed to get Hojo, Nora, and Buzz inside the building. Jinx said in
a low voice, "The next closest dealer is Williamsburg."

"Yeah, it's just dumb luck she happens to be here when Aunt
Bunny comes to pick up her car."

"Isn't your aunt here a lot?" Chris inquired.

"She is, but Uncle Don can usually juggle things. He's had plenty
of experience," Vic wryly replied.

"Yeah, but Nora was different." Jinx quickly shut up as Bunny
returned.

"Thanks, girls. I'll see you after I win tomorrow."

Bunny had recovered enough to walk to her car without button
holing Don. She'd nail him later. As Bunny walked away, Chris noticed
that she moved with the same energetic gait that all the Savedge women had
_;
they had a little bounce. Bunny was a very nice-looking woman. Her

hair was a rich natural chestnut, her shoulders were wide, and her hips
not too big. She carried a few extra pounds, but by no stretch of the imagination could Bunny Savedge McKenna be thought unattractive.

She'd caught enough of a glimpse of Nora to see a curvaceous
woman in her early thirties with long hair. She emitted that indescrib
able something that men noticed and liked, but women noticed and
dismissed—studied femininity.

Bunny was pretty. Nora was sexy.

Chris looked at Vic, who had both in spades. As for herself, Chris
wasn't sure what she had—but she knew she never lacked for male
attention.

Mignon sprinted back.

"Good job," Vic praised her.

"Aunt Bun didn't lob a hand grenade?"

"Not yet," Jinx said, and then turned to Chris. "Welcome to Surry
County."

Chris laughed. "I like it."

"Okay, Vic." Mignon sat in the front.

"Not okay. Chris, sit up front. You're the guest."

Mignon couldn't argue with that, so she climbed in the back
with Jinx.

"Are you taking me to the football game tonight? We're playing Smithfield."

"No." Vic pulled out of the lot, waving good-bye to people as she
did so. "Don't you have a date?"

"No." Mignon grimaced.

"What's wrong with Buzz Schonfeld?" Jinx smiled, knowing that if
Mignon went out with Buzz, Bunny would pass out.

"Very funny." A pause followed. "I'm not very popular with boys."
She leaned forward. "Chris, I bet you are. You're beautiful."

Chris blushed. "Thank you."

"Why don't you go with Lisa?" Jinx offered. Lisa was Jinx's younger
sister, whom she didn't particularly like.

"Maybe," Mignon said without conviction.

"Come on, Mignon. You're not helpless. If you wanted to go to the
game with someone, you would."

Mignon shrugged. She was a well-liked kid, but she was struggling with the hormonal surges in herself and others, sometimes taken aback
at the social savagery of her sophomore schoolmates.

"Navigator to pilot," Jinx intoned. "Ice cream. You scream, I
scream, we all scream for—"

"Ice cream," everyone said.

Vic turned toward town and the ice-cream parlor. As she did, the long slanting rays of the sun burnished them all bronze and the wind blew open Chris's blouse, already unbuttoned low thanks to the heat.

Vic noticed the sunlight on Chris's breasts and an unexpected
lizard tongue of fire shot through her.

_R

ibbons of scarlet unfurled on the James River. The Savedges loved
to watch the summer sunsets together. Sitting with their chairs in
a semicircle on the patio overlooking the freshly mowed back

lawn, the spot affording the best view, they chatted about the day.

Frank, genial though reserved, basked in being a man surrounded
by women. He thought Vic's new friend extremely attractive with her
blonde hair, lean body, and big smile. While he believed he was mar
ried to the most marvelous woman of his generation, that did not deter him from admiring others. Unlike Don McKenna, Frank never strayed from admiration to lust. He'd seen too many men undone by that. He
thought beauty cruel even if the women possessing it weren't.

"—big, fat cow." Mignon wrapped up her discourse on Marjorie
Solomon.

"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." Vic
propped her legs up on a wooden footstool, which she shared with her
mother. They looked almost like twins.

"Puh-lease." Mignon rolled her eyes heavenward.

"She's right, Mignon. You don't know what Marjorie Solomon
goes home to." Frank plucked a sprig of mint from his drink and
chewed on it.

"Yeah?" Mignon hoped a tale of woe was about to unfold. Perhaps
Marjorie was suffering from leukemia, shortly to pass from this earth,

which meant they'd have to be nice to her. Or maybe her father was a closet drinker. Visions of abject misery delighted Mignon.

"She's bedridden with a hangnail," Jinx said, sucking in her cheeks,
a funny face that made Vic laugh.

"Ha, ha." The little sister tossed her head, imploring her father
with eyes for the real story.

"Honey, I don't know what Marjorie Solomon goes home to, but I
know what you go home to." He pointed to the sunset crimson, pink,
and purple with flashes of gold.

The splendor of the scene kept everyone spellbound until Mignon,
having the shortest attention span, remarked, "She's probably a snob
because she's Jewish."

"That's quite enough," R. J. sharply reprimanded her youngest.
"Mom, it's true. People haven't liked Jews for thousands of years."
"Jesus, Mignon, dig the hole deeper." Vic shook her head.
"Ignorant people need scapegoats. Why not pull down those who
are successful? You dump your sins on them, get rid of them, and take
whatever they acquired in this world," Frank evenly replied, but he was
furious at Mignon.

"Dad, you're right, but at least Mignon told us what she was think
ing." Vic shielded Mignon. "If she's saying it, then the other kids at
school are, too. At least, this way we can talk about it." Vic turned to
Mignon, who was obviously distressed that she'd upset her father.
They were all quite good at reading Frank. "I'm sure Marjorie is a snot,
but it isn't because she's Jewish. Think of Walter Rendell. He's the
worst, and he's Episcopalian."

"I'm sorry." She was, too.

"To change the subject, Chris, what's your major?" Frank smiled
at her.

"Mr. Savedge, that's a good question. I've changed it three times. I
think I'll try English." She laughed, and then said, "What was yours?"
"History."

"Daddy's a Princeton man. He can't see black and orange, but he
doesn't get fuzzy." Mignon tried to mollify him.

"My dad went to Colgate," Chris said.

"Good school," Frank replied.

"But it's not Princeton," Vic and Mignon said in unison.

"Family joke." Jinx filled Chris in, who figured it out anyway.

"Did you call your mother?" R. J. reached in her pocket, pulling out a small round beanbag, which she tossed to Jinx.

This excited Piper, who had given up on whatever was under the
tobacco shed, at least for the moment.

Jinx tossed the beanbag to Chris, who tossed it to Vic. The bag
was flying everywhere.

"I called her. She's mad at me. She wants me to come home, and I
said I'd stop by tomorrow." Jinx reached up, snatching the beanbag out
of the air.

"Hey," Mignon said.

"You snooze, you lose." Jinx straightened her arm, flipping it
in a
hook shot to Vic.

Despite Frank's financial troubles, he felt utterly relaxed in the sunset's glow, watching the small boats and larger vessels heading toward
their snug ports. The sound of the water lapping the shore soothed him.

Like many extremely handsome men, he was only somewhat aware
of his effect on people. Broad shouldered, tall, with a strong clean
jaw—people couldn't help smiling when they saw him. He could talk
with ease to both men and women. And he was going to have a talk with
Sissy Wallace right now because she was tearing up the driveway laying rubber as she zoomed along.

R. J. stood up. "Sissy Wallace, full throttle."

Mignon leaned over to Chris. "Barking mad. All the Wallaces
are . . .

"Mignon, stop sitting in judgment." Frank grabbed her shoulder,
squeezing it as he stood up.

"Yes, Dad." She winked at Chris.

Jinx stood up, and Vic and Chris followed. "Wonder what she did
this time?"

Sissy narrowly missed one of the lampposts at the end of the driveway. She hit the brakes with a squeal, cut the engine, and slammed the
door. "I shot Poppy!"

Chris froze, not knowing whether to go forward or stay rooted to
the spot. If this woman was mad, might she be armed?

Vic took her hand, noticing how cool it was. Some form of vio
lence on a recurring basis is just the way they are. Last month her sister,
Georgia, dropped a packet of shingles from the roof, which narrowly
missed Edward, her father, who had just stepped outside. She said her foot slipped while she was repairing the roof, but that doesn't explain why the whole pack heaved overboard."

"He moves fast for an old man." Jinx stifled a laugh, Sissy was look
ing straight at her, and waved.

"Sissy can't drive either," Mignon added her bit.

"I noticed." Chris was finding her visit to Surry County even more
entertaining than she had anticipated.

Frank checked his watch and whispered to R. J. "Honey, I expect
Georgia and Edward together or separately will grace us with their
presence in under ten minutes."

"I wonder if serving them a drink is a good idea."

"Make it a double." He kissed his wife on the cheek and then
headed toward Sissy. "Sissy, now just you sit right down here and tell
me all about it." He took her by the elbow, leading her toward the
chairs.

shot him. I shot him," she wailed to high heaven.

Mignon said under her breath to Chris, "She puts shoe polish on
her bald spot."

"And carries a flask in her stocking." Vic wondered what she'd have
to do to help her parents.

"Support hose." Jinx thoughtfully supplied that detail.

Chris ran her left hand through her silky straight hair. "Well, I
think someone else is coming." She nodded in the direction of the turn
off from the two-lane road to the driveway.

Even though trees sheltered the view and the two-lane road was a
quarter of a mile down the drive, in the twilight stillness they could all
hear the roar of the engine.

"I shot him in the butt," Sissy claimed. "I warned him. I fired over
his head but—"

"Poppy change his will again?"

She nodded tearfully. Before she had a chance to take her place in
the semicircle of chairs, she, too, heard the rumble of a big V-8 engine.