Miss Julia to the Rescue (34 page)

As nine o’clock approached, Mr. Pickens took first place on my hit parade of worries. I was tempted to go over there and sit in on the interview if they’d let me. And if they wouldn’t, I’d be there to comfort Hazel Marie if Mr. Pickens was led away.

“Lillian,” I said, as I paced the kitchen floor, “I can’t stand this. I thought Etta Mae would call and let me know how the evening went, but she’s at work now so I hesitate to call her. And I’m so distraught over Mr. Pickens, I don’t know what to do.”

“You done had four cups of coffee. It’s no wonder you so antsy. Jus’ set yourself down an’ wait till somebody lets you know something.”

“Easier said than done.” But I did as she told me and sat down, only to begin drumming my fingers on the table. The noises of the work crews didn’t help my nerves, other than to reassure me that work was progressing. Adam and Josh had come in earlier and were putting the finishing touches on the room upstairs, and before I could find any peace the carpet men were knocking on the door, ready to install carpet in the new bedroom.

Adam came down, tapped on the kitchen door, and asked if I had anything for them to do while the carpet was being laid.

“We’ll move furniture in when they finish,” he told me, but I reminded him that the paperhanger had to have room to work, so we couldn’t move all of it.

I walked through the house with him, pointing out which pieces could go upstairs, some stacked in the middle of Hazel Marie’s former bedroom, but most of them in the hall that had been cleared of Sam’s office furniture. Eventually, all the furniture from what had been our bedroom downstairs would go into the new bedroom upstairs, which meant we’d finally have the living and dining rooms back to normal.

Adam nodded agreement to everything I said, but he didn’t have much to say for himself. He seemed, in fact, morose and heavy laden, which I put down to an overactive conscience about avoiding work for Agnes Whitman—lying to her, he would call it, while I would term it finishing the job he started for me.

“At least,” I said, “we’ll have room to walk when part of this is upstairs.” I was trying to carry on with Adam as if I’d noticed nothing wrong, then I nearly tripped again over that old Oriental that was still rolled up in the hall. “This thing is going to break my neck. It needs to go to the cleaners so I can give it away.” Maybe Hazel Marie could use it at her house as a memento, so to speak, of the night her babies were born.

Sam called just as I got back to the kitchen to remind me that he’d be home Tuesday, as if I hadn’t been counting the days. The thought of his being home lifted my spirits, although I had to hold my tongue in order not to tell him that Mr. Pickens was being officially interviewed even as we spoke, and who knew what would happen after that?

“I be glad when he come home,” Lillian said as she went into the pantry to get a broom. “Maybe he calm you down.”

“I’ll calm down when this mess is over. Of course, having him
home will help, but I’m hoping it’ll be over by the time he gets here.”

She just shook her head and started out with the broom. “Gotta sweep off that front porch,” she said. “An’ run the vacuum in the front room. Them men tracking dirt all over the house.”

So nine-thirty came and went with no word from Hazel Marie, then ten, then ten-fifteen, and it was all I could do not to pick up the phone or else dash over there to find out for myself.

At ten-twenty the phone rang and I nearly killed myself getting to it.

“
Miss Julia!”
Hazel Marie wailed as I thought my heart would stop. Images of Mr. Pickens being led away in handcuffs flashed through my mind.

“Oh, Hazel Marie, what happened?”

“You won’t
believe
what J.D. just did.”

“What? What did he do? Has he been arrested?”

“No! He’s fine, but he invited Sheriff McAfee to supper
tonight
, and James is gone and I can’t cook and the babies are crying and I’m at my wit’s end! I can’t believe he’d do such a thing!”

“Wait, wait, Hazel Marie. Slow down and tell me what happened.”

She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. “Well, you know the sheriff came to interview J.D. at nine this morning—.”

“Yes, I know, I know. But how did it go? Did he believe Mr. Pickens?”

“I guess, ’cause they’re in there talking about fishing and hunting and I don’t know what all. I just left after J.D. asked him to supper, because I nearly fainted when he did it.”

“Well, but you were in the room when the interview was going on? How did it go? Was the sheriff upset?”

“Oh, it went fine,” she said, passing it off as if the interview hadn’t been a source of anxiety to us all for days on end. “I told J.D. he ought to stay in bed. I had him propped up with pillows, and I put all his medications on the bedside table so the sheriff
could see how sick he is, and I told him not to shave or comb his hair. You know, so he’d look like he was too sick to be moved. If the sheriff wanted to move him, I mean.”

“Good thinking, Hazel Marie,” I said, pleased that she’d had that much forethought. And even more pleased that Mr. Pickens had followed through, which meant that he’d been more concerned about a possible arrest than he’d let on. Mr. Pickens wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to do or that he didn’t see the need to do.

“All right,” I went on, “so the interview is over and they’re just chatting? That’s reassuring but, Hazel Marie, you must have a long talk with your husband when this is over. He should never issue an invitation before talking it over with you. But where is James? Why can’t he fix supper?”

“J.D. did that, too!” Hazel Marie’s voice was showing the strain as it went up an octave. “He gave James a long weekend off to go to a homecoming at his family’s church. In South Carolina! So he’s gone and I’ll be all by myself in that kitchen!”

“You really need to have a talk with your husband,” I repeated, but what was done was done and no amount of talking would help the current situation. “Maybe we could ask Lillian.”

“Oh,
would
you? She would save my life, Miss Julia, because it’s either that or hot dogs, which is the only thing I can cook without ruining. Or maybe peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” She stopped, seemed to consider the matter, then went on. “Any other time, I’d get J.D. to grill something outside because I can bake potatoes and make a salad, but I don’t think it’d look too good for him to get out of his sick bed and cook. Do you?”

“No, that wouldn’t do,” I agreed. “He needs to limp around as long as the sheriff is there, maybe even have his dinner on a tray in bed. But listen, Hazel Marie, I’ll see what Lillian says. But you need to speak to her, too. If she can do it, you should plan the meal, let her know what you want.”

“Anything, anything,” Hazel Marie cried. “Whatever she wants to cook will be fine. Tell her I’ll pay her double, triple, anything
she wants, because who knows but that sheriff could have a change of heart and take J.D. with him.”

Well, I didn’t think that was likely, because if Sheriff McAfee had arresting on his mind, he wouldn’t hang around to see what kind of supper he’d get. Still, I could understand Hazel Marie’s concern. No woman wants to make a poor showing at her dinner table.

“Here’s Lillian now,” I said as Lillian came into the kitchen to put up the broom. “I’ll see what she says.”

I covered the phone and explained Hazel Marie’s problem to Lillian. “So she wants to know if you’d be available to fix supper at her house tonight. If you can’t do it, Lillian, just say so. She can order out. Get pizza or something.”

“Law, no!” Lillian was horrified. “That ole sheriff might take Mr. Pickens off an’ we never see him again. Tell her I be glad to do it, ’specially since Latisha spendin’ the night with a little friend. Oh, an’ tell her what we got a whole lot of in the freezer.”

“Chicken!” I said. “That’s perfect. Hazel Marie,” I went on, turning back to the phone. “You think the sheriff would like fried chicken?”

“He better, ’cause
I
would.”

“Good, and don’t worry about side dishes. Lillian will know what to fix, maybe some corn and a few other things. You go ahead and set the table—that’s all you need to do. Well, except see to the babies.”

“Oh, I can’t tell you what a load is off my mind. But, Miss Julia, would you come, too? I think it’d be a whole lot easier if there were other people around the table. You know, to make conversation.”

“Why, yes, I could do that.” And, I thought, find out at the same time what went on during that interview and hope to goodness that Etta Mae had deflected the sheriff’s interest away from anything I might’ve done in his jurisdiction. “And here’s another thought, Hazel Marie, why don’t you ask Etta Mae, too? If she says no, then we’ll know their date last night didn’t go too well.
But if it went okay, then he’ll be too taken up with her to give Mr. Pickens much thought.” Or anybody else.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Hazel Marie said. “I’ll do that right now. And tell Lillian I love her to death for doing this. Tell her I’ll dance at her wedding.”

After hanging up, I told Lillian what she’d said.

“Huh,” Lillian said, smiling in spite of herself, as she wiped off a counter, “that be a long time comin’, ’cause I don’t have no more marryin’ on my mind.”

I sat down and started making out a grocery list while Lillian took the frozen chicken out of the freezer, then began mumbling as she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.

“Wonder she got flour,” Lillian said, talking mostly to herself. “She got to have salt an’ pepper. Miss Julia, what all she got in her kitchen? Do you know?”

“I wouldn’t count on her having everything you’ll need. Although surely James has the kitchen fairly well stocked with the basics.”

“Huh,” she mumbled, putting a jar of paprika on the counter. “Maybe. An’ maybe not.” She began bagging the odds and ends that she would take to Hazel Marie’s house. “If you got that list ready, I’ll go on to the store.”

“It’s ready except we need to think of something for dessert. What would be quick and easy to fix? You don’t have enough time to make anything fancy.”

Lillian studied it for a minute, then said, “I got a pound cake in the freezer. What about if I toast some slices, put ice cream on ’em an’ some chocolate syrup on top of that?”

“Perfect. This is all so last-minute that nobody could expect an elaborate meal. Besides, that sheriff should count himself lucky to get anything.” I jotted down ice cream and chocolate syrup, then handed the list to her. “Now, Lillian, I want you to make time to put your feet up and rest—you can’t work from sunup to sundown without a rest. And if you get over there and find you need something, call me. I’ll run to the store for you or bring it from here, whichever.”

After we loaded her car and she got off, I returned to the kitchen and heated up my fifth cup of coffee. I didn’t know what I’d do for the rest of the day, relegated as I was to the only room in the house where I wouldn’t be underfoot of the workmen. And without Lillian to talk to.

But at least my worries about Mr. Pickens’s fate had been eased. Sheriff Ardis McAfee surely would not have the gall to sit at his table, then arrest him. I decided that all my fretting over the sheriff’s intentions had been for naught and that I could enjoy my first worry-free day in some time. And I continued to feel that way until Hazel Marie called again.

“
Miss Julia!”
Hazel Marie wailed. “You won’t believe what he’s done now!”

“What! Who! Mr. Pickens?”

“No, that sheriff!”

“Oh, my Lord, has he changed his mind?” That would teach me not to let my guard down—you can never tell what will happen when you stop worrying and begin thinking that all is well.

“No, that’s not it,” Hazel Marie said, as if she had to think it over. “I don’t think he changed his mind exactly. It was more like he just thought of it.”

“What, for goodness sake?”

“Well, see, he just called and, I give him credit, because he called me and not J.D. He asked if it’d be all right to bring his niece to supper tonight.”

“Oh,” I said, relief flooding through me. Although asking to bring an extra to a dinner party indicated a certain lapse of etiquette, it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. “Of course, upsetting a hostess’s table placement is something you and I would never do, Hazel Marie, but I guess we can understand. I got the feeling when he mentioned her to Etta Mae and me that she’d been out of touch with her family, so maybe he’s trying to remedy that. And, of course, he won’t be in town long—at least I hope he won’t—so I expect he wants to see as much of her as he can.”