Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day (20 page)

When I pulled in beside my trailer, I didn’t see Skip’s Low Rider anywhere. It was a relief in a way. I needed time for myself while I packed for the big move. On the other hand, it was always good to know where he happened to be at any given minute, since wherever he was you could usually count on trouble being there, too. I swear, for anybody as basically sweet as Skip was, he could get into more trouble than anybody I knew. And not even know it, half the time.

I went inside and jacked up the AC, wishing I didn’t have to face the mess that Harley and Roy had made of my things. But I did, and it was just as I’d left it with no sign that Skip had been there.

I headed for the shower, shedding clothes as I went. Looking at the rip under the arm of my Kathie Lee dress, I was relieved to see it was along the seam, and easily mended. But I didn’t have time for that.

After standing under cool water for fifteen minutes and getting my hair clean again, I felt a hundred percent better. I really wanted to wear my Dream Angels bra, but without the bikini panties to match, I decided against it and pulled on a set of sheer embroidered bra and panties in a basic nude color. I would’ve loved to’ve put on some capri pants or a pair of shorts, but figured with Junior and Valerie still around, I’d better go a little more formal.

And, oh Lord, Mr. Ernest Sitton, who was going to show up over there sometime or another, had to be faced, too. So it had to be a dress of some kind. I dried my hair and put it up in big rollers, trying to decide what to wear. Not that I had much choice when it came to dresses, since I didn’t have that many, having to wear mostly nurse’s uniforms for my job, you know.

By the time I’d done my face and combed my hair, packing all my beauty aids as I went, I’d decided that clothes were clothes, whether or not they had designer labels. So I put on a white V-neck sleeveless T-shirt and an extra-short khaki skirt and a pair of flat sandals.

If Valerie wanted a fight, I’d be dressed for it.

Practically everything in my kitchen had been ruined and thrown out, but I was about to cave in by that time. I fixed some cheese toast and opened a Diet Coke, which would have to do me until I ate my first real meal as the new Mrs. Connard.

 • • • 

Just as I finished eating, the telephone rang and I reached for it, thinking it’d be Skip.

“Etta Mae?” Lurline said. “Are you home?”

“Hey, Lurline. Yes, I guess I am, but not for long. I was going to call you and thank you again for standing up for us today. That was real sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “I can’t say I was exactly thrilled to do it, but you were bound and determined to marry that old man, regardless of my opinion. Now that it’s done, though, I just have to accept it and make the best of it.”

I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t up to her to accept it or not, much less have to make the best of anything I did. But there was no need to make anybody else mad at me, so I told her I was glad she felt that way because I would always count her as my friend.

“I know you will, Etta Mae. I don’t expect anything less from you, but you’re going to have to watch yourself. It’ll be awful easy to get used to the high life and think you’re too good for your friends. I don’t want that to happen to you, and I hope you’ll appreciate it when I take you down a peg or two if I see it happening.”

“I will, Lurline,” I said, closing my eyes at the thought of it. “You don’t need to worry about me changing or anything.”

“Well, you never know. Remember that Scoggins girl who hooked herself a doctor? She couldn’t see where she was going, her nose was stuck up so high. Actually, he was just a foot doctor, so she didn’t have much to get so high and mighty about.”

“I’m not going to get that way, Lurline.”

“I know you’re not, because I’m going to tell you if you do. But that wasn’t why I called. Have you seen Skip?”

“Not since we got back from the church. I told him to come over here and stay as long as he wanted to. But he’s not here, and I don’t see any of his things.”

“Well, that’s just it. I came home early, which is another thing I want to talk to you about, and all his stuff is gone.”

“Really? You think he’s left town?”

“I don’t know what to think. He was raised better than to go off without a see-you-later or a kiss-my-foot. But if he’s not with you, I guess that’s what he’s done. Well”—she heaved a heavy sigh and went on—“he’ll show up sooner or later, I expect. Anyway, the other reason I called is I wanted to give you a bachelorette party, but since nothing would do but you had to jump the gun and get married so quick, it’ll have to be a lingerie shower instead. Either kind is supposed to be given before the wedding, but you didn’t give anybody the chance, did you? Anyway, since you’re not a bachelorette anymore, that’s out. But we can at least get a lingerie shower in before the wedding night, so you’ll have something nice to wear. We’ll have to scramble to get it done, so looks like tonight has to be it.”

“Tonight?” I didn’t know what to say. I was touched that she wanted to do that for me, but I still had Valerie and Junior and Mr. Sitton, to say nothing of Mr. Howard, on my mind. And on my hands. “That’s so sweet, Lurline. I’d love to have a lingerie shower, but tonight, well, tonight’s going to be kinda busy.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Etta Mae. That old man’s going to need a cattle prod to get him started, much less to keep him going.”

“Lurline!” I yelled. “Don’t talk like that. Besides, what I meant was his son and daughter-in-law are still there, and I’m trying to get some of my things moved, and, well, I’d enjoy it more if we could do it another night.”

Dead silence on the line, while Lurline let me know her feelings were hurt.

“Well,” I said, feeling obligated to please her, as usual, “maybe we can work it out. It’d be all right, I guess, if you wouldn’t mind doing it over at Mr. Howard’s. You know I wouldn’t feel right about going out with the girls on my wedding night. That wouldn’t look too good.”

“Why, that’s just the ticket,” she said, suddenly cheerful again, now that she’d gotten her way. “You know I wouldn’t insist on tonight if it wasn’t going to be a lingerie shower, which just has to be before the wedding night. I did want to have it at my house, but this way, we’ll all get to see inside that house, which I’ve always wanted to do. Now, there’ll just be a few of us—oh, and you can invite Junior’s wife, too. The more the merrier. I’ll call everybody else and tell them we’ll meet, when? About seven, I think. I can’t wait to see inside the Connard house. You reckon that colored man of his could fix us some snacks? You know how it is, Etta Mae, this is such a last-minute thing, I’m not going to have time to make a dip or do a dump cake or anything else.”

The woman had more nerve than anybody I’d ever heard of. “That’ll be fine. Emmett fixed a wedding lunch that nobody but Skip ate, so we’ll just put that out and let everybody help themselves. But, Lurline, there’s just one thing, and I hope you won’t take this wrong, but I wish you wouldn’t call Emmett that.”

Dead silence again. Then she said, “See, Etta Mae, that’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. Already you’re changing and thinking you’re better than other people.”

“Wait one minute, Lurline. Don’t point your finger at me. All I’m doing is telling you that Emmett’s feelings will be hurt if he hears you say that and he’s been good to me and I don’t want one of my friends making him feel bad.”

“Well, to-do-de-doo. Don’t you think I know better than to say it to his face, but I ought to be able to say whatever I want when I want to. To my
friends,
that is.”

I leaned my head against the kitchen cabinet, wondering why I ever tried to argue with her. “Okay, Lurline, let’s change the subject. If you hear from Skip, tell him again that he’s welcome to stay in my trailer as long as he wants to. In fact, I’d like having him here. He could look after things for me, and maybe even change a few lightbulbs.”

She was in good spirits by the time we hung up, and she ought to’ve been. She’d run over me with her inconvenient plans, made me mad and made me feel guilty, and on top of it all, made me do the apologizing.

As I hung up the phone and walked out of the kitchen area, I saw a piece of paper pinned to the back of Bernie’s recliner.
What now,
I thought, as I unpinned and unfolded it, and tried to read a scrawl written in pencil.

Dear Etta Mae, I’m doing what you said you would do if you won a lot of money. Don’t worry about me I will be OK. I am glad you are happy and hope you always are. Love from your loving ex, Skip.

PS, the Pucketts didn’t get it. I had it hid all the time, you’ll never guess where. In your new husband’s wheelchair (check it out) when we went to get the license and I got it out today when we had the wedding. Ha, ha on Harley and Roy.

It took me a minute to remember what I’d said I’d do if I’d won the lottery. When I did, I started smiling and wondered if Skip was finally getting some smarts. He’d taken my advice and slipped out of town without telling anybody he still had a winning ticket. And that devil had hidden it where nobody’d think to look, and just in time to keep Harley and Roy from getting their hands on it.

That was the best thing I’d heard all day. Except for when Emmett called me Mrs. Connard.

I packed my old Samsonite suitcase with some everyday clothes and filled two tote bags with my hot rollers, hair dryer, shampoo, conditioner, color extender, and various other beauty aids, and some personal items I won’t mention. Then I put my favorite stuffed animals in a couple of Winn-Dixie grocery sacks, and wrapped my Barbies individually and laid them in a Seagram’s 7 cardboard box. Draping my hanging clothes over my arm, I started loading the car.

It was a little sad to be leaving my trailer, as well as my total privacy. Already my single-wide was beginning to look empty, even though I wasn’t moving any furniture. I wondered if I ought to have a yard sale and get rid of it. It’d all be snapped up in a minute, if I did. But storing it might be the best. Just in case I needed it again. On second thought, that was no way to start wedded life, making plans for when I wouldn’t be again. I hated leaving my new couch, and wondered if I could make room for it at Mr. Howard’s somewhere.

Well, maybe not. As is usually the case, you have to give up something in order to get something else.

After a last walk-through to be sure I wasn’t leaving anything vital to everyday use, I looked around the living area. The lock on the door still wasn’t fixed, and I had the happy thought of asking Emmett to come out and put in a new one. It was going to be nice to have someone to call on for little household repairs like that.

Then I had another, even happier thought, one that cheered me up considerably. Depending on the amount of household and personal money Mr. Howard decided to give me, I might be able to keep up the rent on my trailer space and just let it sit there.

Rent, I thought. Not twenty-four hours ago I’d made a deal with Julia Springer to manage the park, so I wasn’t going to have any rent to pay. I sat down on the unblooded end of my couch and thought it through. I would purely enjoy telling that woman that I didn’t need her charity anymore, but the more I thought about it, the more I could see the benefits of sticking with the deal. I could manage the park in my spare time and keep my trailer available, too. In fact, as the wife of a wealthy man, I was going to have more spare time than I’d ever had in my life. It wouldn’t hurt to keep my hand in a little business of my own, and one thing was for sure, if anybody knew how a trailer park ought to be run, it was me, having had so much experience with mismanaged ones.

Besides, I wouldn’t mind having a second home. Lots of well-to-do people have them. You know, for visitors and times you want to be by yourself. Why, Junior and Valerie might even appreciate having their privacy when they came to visit. They might like a cozy trailer as a change from Junior’s old room or the impersonal ambiance of the airport Quality Inn.

I felt better with the possibility of not having to sell the trailer or my furniture. It’s not every day that you have something all your own with not a cent owing on it, and I hated to have to give up that sense of security. Another satisfying thought struck me: with my new status, Julia Springer would have to treat me as a business partner instead of as the beneficiary of her Christian, but unpredictable, goodwill. I closed the door behind me, feeling considerably better about any number of things.

As I backed out of the parking space with a smile on my face, Jennie leaned out her door, yelling congratulations and saying that she’d see me tonight. Lurline had been burning up the phone lines already, proving again that she was hell on wheels when she decided to do something. Before the hour was out, the news of my wedding would be all over town, and probably with Lurline’s own special version of it. I wondered what Hazel Marie would think. I knew what the other one would, and it made me laugh.

Driving out of the trailer park, I headed toward town and my new home. I knew I was going to feel more like a visitor than a homeowner, even after I moved in. But I’m the type to make the best of whatever I have to put up with, so I figured it wouldn’t take me long to feel at home.

Dang it,
the way some people drive! I hit the brakes and swerved to the right, getting out of the way of a van that had passed and cut in too close in front of me.

“Oh, hellfire!” A hot flash of adrenaline concentrated my attention. It was a blue-and-white van with a little Confederate flag flapping from the aerial.

The Pucketts! There they were, slowing down and speeding up. I looked around at the other traffic, which wasn’t much, but nobody was taking notice. I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and tried to think of what to do. Harley and Roy probably wouldn’t run me off the road in broad daylight, but as crazy as they were I didn’t want to chance it. It was a settled fact that they’d be mad as hornets at not getting Skip’s lottery ticket, and what could I do about that? I couldn’t tell them where Skip was regardless of what they did to me—you can’t get blood from a turnip. But they could sure get blood from me, and that’s what worried me.

The van sped up a little, and I eased out to try to pass it. Then it slowed down, and I had to slam on my brakes again. Looking around, I’d’ve given anything to see a cop car on my tail, even Clyde would’ve been a welcome sight. But all I saw were cars with drivers intent on their own business, paying no attention to anybody else’s for a change.

A strip mall with a Shell station was coming up on the right, and I thought of zipping in there and hightailing it to a phone. Before I could do it, though, the van surprised me by turning in at the station first. I breathed easier, hoping it wasn’t the Pucketts after all. Or that they’d run out of gas.

I glanced in the rearview mirror as I passed the station and couldn’t even breathe for a minute, much less easier. The van was doing a quick 360 and pulling back out into the road. It came roaring up behind me until all I could see in my rearview was that flat-nosed grille.

I sped up, but it stayed right with me, tailgating so close that I was afraid they were going to bump me.
Cause a wreck!
That’s what they’d do. Then stop and say they’d take me to the hospital. They’d get me out of there before anybody called for help.

I gripped the steering wheel and floorboarded it, zooming past the city limits and hoping for the first time in my life that I’d get pulled for speeding. I passed a pickup, blowing my horn, and zipped in close in front of him. The van followed me, riding side by side with the pickup until the driver got scared off and slowed so the van could slip in behind me again. The pickup driver gave us all the finger, and I couldn’t blame him.

By the time I reached Main Street, I had to slow down or hit a pedestrian or two. The van slowed, too, but didn’t back off. I was able to think a little better by then, and the first thing I thought of was that I didn’t want to lead the Pucketts to Mr. Howard’s house.

The sheriff’s office! That’s where I’d go.

No, I wouldn’t. By the time I got there, went in, and reported it, they’d be gone, and what could be done then? I’d have to leave, and the Pucketts would pick me up again. Cops wouldn’t do anything unless they saw with their own eyes what Bobby Lee called an infraction of the law.

As I went down Main Street, I saw one empty parking space on the opposite side of the street, right in front of Eckerd’s Drug Store. Which meant it was also in front of Mr. Sitton’s office upstairs. Sometimes an answer pops up right in front of your eyes. That’s where I’d go and just wait the Pucketts out. Maybe even get Mr. Sitton to slap a restraining order on them. Then the sheriff would have to make them leave me alone.

What with Main Street traffic, such as it was, I had slowed down considerably, but I didn’t turn on my left-turn blinker or give any indication whatsoever of my intentions. Just jerked the wheel and made a half U-turn in front of an oncoming SUV that was signaling for the same parking space I was aiming for, getting a horn blast and another finger for my trouble. But I got the space first, ramming the front tires into the curb as I came to a stop. I grabbed my purse by its gold chain and ran across the sidewalk to the door to Mr. Sitton’s office.

Once inside, before going up the stairs, I looked out the glass in the door and was able to see the van make a right on Rosemont. Going around the block, probably, and probably cussing their heads off. Whew.

I turned and climbed the stairs, trying to slow my heart rate. When I got to Mr. Sitton’s door, I stopped and straightened my skirt and mopped my sweaty face with a Kleenex.

Then, straightening my shoulders, I barreled in to face Mr. Sitton’s secretary, determined not to take anything off her.

Walking right up to her desk, where she was peering at a computer like she didn’t know how to use it, I said, “I need to see Mr. Sitton. Is he in?”

“He’s in,” she said, without turning her head, “but he’s busy. Besides, he doesn’t see clients in the afternoon.”

“He’ll see this one. Tell him I’m here, please.”

She drew herself up straight, breathing a deep one through her nose. Then she slowly turned to look at me for the first time since I’d been there. When she recognized me, I could see her face tighten and her thin mouth get all puckered up. She gave me one of those blank stares, like it was beneath her to even notice me.

Fuming, I said, “Tell him Etta Mae is here. I’m a fully paid-up client, and I have something important to talk to him about.”

“Don’t come in here making demands, young lady. I’ve already told you he doesn’t see clients in the afternoon. It’s the only time he has to catch up on records and paperwork. Not that I have to explain anything to you.”

“Which door is his?” I asked, turning to scan the three inner doors. “I’ll tell him myself, if you’re too lazy to do it.”

She half rose out of her chair at that, not accustomed, I guessed, to being talked back to.

“Don’t you dare disturb him. You better leave or I’m calling the sheriff.”

I turned back to her and gave her a pretty long stare myself. Even did a little looking down my nose, too.

“Do you know to whom it is you happen to be speaking?” I said, but before I could tell her she reared back and let me have it.

“I don’t care
whom
I happen to be speaking to,” she said, twitching her head on each word. “Just take yourself out of this office. You’re not seeing Mr. Sitton today.” Then she jerked her head back around to the computer, like she was through with me. But under her breath, she muttered, “High-and-mighty little
twit
.”

Leaning across her desk and getting right in her face, I said, “You don’t want to get into a name-calling contest with me, believe me you don’t. I’ve got some names you’ve never even heard of, but you’ll know they fit when you hear them. Now listen to me, you frizzy-headed ole bat, I am Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior, and I want to see Mr. Sitton. Now.”

She sat real still, gazing past her computer. Then she slowly turned to me, her eyes wide with surprise, and said, “I don’t believe it. Not Mr. . . . you can’t . . .”

“Yes, I can. May I see Mr. Sitton now?”

“I’ll tell him you’re here,” she said, as meek as that type person can be when they’re put in their place.

Getting up from her chair, she came around the desk and tapped on one of the doors. She kept her eyes trained on me like she was afraid I’d jump her. She wasn’t in any danger by then, though she had been a couple of minutes before.

“He’ll see you now, Mrs. Connard,” she said, holding the door for me, and I reaped the first reward of my newly wedded state as I sailed in past her.