Erinn was stunned by the artistry. She stole a glance at Polly, who was showing Wesley around the store. What a surprise to find that this girl, who only seemed interested in the breakfast crowd of cowboys, possessed such talent. Erinn admonished herself for her earlier impression of the girl.
Bad attitude for a documentarian. Don’t assume anything.
While Erinn and Wesley picked a location for the interview, Polly worked on a cowboy hat at her workstation. Erinn found herself distracted by Polly’s process. The cowboy hat before her was a dappled fabric, gray to dusty black. Polly first fitted a simple black leather hatband, which Erinn thought complimented the hat exactly. Polly stood back, biting her bottom lip in concentration. She swapped the hatband for a thicker model with carved roses on it. Erinn watched Polly walk around the cabinet, studying the hat from all angles. When she returned to her starting point, she snatched the hatband off and replaced it with a third. The change in the hat was remarkable. The new hatband was a thinner black leather but was accessorized with flattened studs that appeared to have been antiqued with some sort of stain. The gradations in the color of the studs picked up the gradations in the color of the hat. It was perfect. Polly looked up, catching Erinn’s eye.
“Yeah?” Polly asked, indicating the hatband.
“Yeah,” Erinn said.
Erinn and Wesley finished prepping for the interview. When they were all set, Erinn insisted that Polly flip the Open sign in the window to Closed. Polly obliged, then took a seat opposite Erinn.
“Please say your name and spell it,” Erinn said, bracing for the inevitable questions that seemed to follow whenever she requested this information from an inhabitant of Fat Chance.
“Polly Orchid,” Polly said, asking no questions. “P-O-L-L-Y O-R-C-H-I-D.”
“Really?” Erinn asked. “Your name is Polly Orchid?”
“Yes. Something wrong with that?”
Erinn caught a glimpse of the Goth girl she’d been told about. A steely defensiveness appeared suddenly in Polly’s eyes.
“No no,” Erinn said. “It’s just that . . .”
“Just what?” Polly’s tone was getting more and more defensive.
Erinn chided herself. She needed to stay completely neutral in these situations, and she’d now put herself in the position of having to explain.
“In Latin, polyorchidism is a medical condition,” Erinn said.
“What kind of medical condition?” Polly asked.
“It means . . .” Erinn looked at Wesley. Surely he’d studied Latin in school. He must know.
“It means a person with more than two testicles,” Wesley said.
Polly stiffened. Erinn was afraid the interview was over before it began, all because she couldn’t keep her own mouth shut. She looked at Polly, whose fingers had flown to her mouth in surprise.
“I’m sure this is all just a fluke,” Erinn began. “I mean, Polly is a lovely name and—”
Erinn was cut off by Polly’s laughter.
“Dude! My father was a first responder,” Polly gasped. “He knew medical terms. How awesome is that? ”
“I’m glad to see you find the humor in it,” Erinn said as she quietly clicked on the camera.
“Are you kidding?” Polly said. “My mom used to tell this story about when she was pregnant. When people asked if they wanted a boy or a girl, my dad used to say ‘As long as it has balls, I don’t care.’”
Erinn tried to smile, but this was not her kind of humor.
“I guess when he had a girl, this was his little joke on the world,” Polly continued, wiping her eyes. “Wow. That is frickin’ hilarious. Go, Dad.”
Erinn wasn’t sure how to segue into her interview, so she just plunged in. “Tell me about how you found yourself in Fat Chance.”
Polly sobered immediately.
“Where do you want me to start?” she asked.
“Wherever you want to start,” Erinn said.
“I guess . . . I guess it all started when I got that letter from Mr. Tensaw’s office,” Polly said, looking quickly at Wesley.
Even in the darkened room, she could see Polly was seeking Wesley’s approval. Was this because he was a man or because he was the famed Mr. Tensaw of Beverly Hills? Erinn waited. Polly resumed only after Wesley nodded his assent.
He’s just the PA! thought Erinn.
“You know the drill,” Polly said. “We all got the same letter asking us to meet at Cleo’s house. None of us knew why.”
“Tell me about the meeting,” Erinn said. “When you found out why you were there.”
“Cutthroat was up on the screen, telling each of us why he was including us in his will,” Polly said, her voice getting very small. “He said something about choosing me because he felt he should not have been backing Big Oil at the expense of our country, or something like that. He picked my name kind of randomly because my dad died rescuing people at the World Trade Center during 9/11.”
“I wish I could thank—” Erinn began.
“Yeah, yeah, you wish you could thank my father for his service,” Polly said, the bitter young woman reappearing for a moment. “Thanks. But you can’t thank him, can you? Because he’s dead.”
Erinn sat and waited. She knew Wesley was trained to wait, too, so the room was very, very still for a long time. Finally Polly cleared her throat.
“Anyway,” Polly said, “my mom never really got over my dad’s death and I was just sort of wandering around New York. So I thought, ‘What the hell, I’m not doing anything. I’ll go to Texas and when the six months are over, I’ll take the money and run.’ Only, obviously, I didn’t run.”
“Why?” Erinn asked, leaning in. “Why did you stay?”
“It’s hard to explain. I mean, partly it was because of this,” Polly said, looking around the store as if seeing it for the first time. “I never knew I could design stuff. I don’t know how he knew! But it was more than that. I could take this stuff anywhere, right?”
Erinn and Wesley didn’t answer, just waited for Polly to continue.
“When I got in the RV to come here, I was already counting the days until I could leave,” Polly said. “But I ended up loving it here. Loving the crazy town. Loving the feuds we get into with Spoonerville and with each other. It ended up being home, you know?”
It occurred to Erinn a theme was finally emerging. Fat Chance became the unlikely familial center for a bunch of wanderers.
“Do you think you’ll stay here forever?” Erinn asked. “I mean, you’re very young.”
“I never really thought about it,” Polly said. “But now . . . I can’t see me ever leaving Old Bertha, especially now that Pappy dumped her. She needs me.”
Is that the secret of Fat Chance? They need each other? wondered Erinn.
“Is that your supposition?” Erinn asked. “That Pappy is gone because he wanted to dump Old Bertha?”
“I can’t see why else he would leave,” Polly said. “I mean, you guys came in, but . . . that doesn’t seem like it would drive Pappy away. He’s used to weird people just showing up. Not, uh, that you guys are weird.”
“But Pappy left before,” Erinn said. “And he came back.”
“He did,” Polly said. “None of us ever found out where he went, but we knew why he went. He wanted to make sure we could stand on our feet without him. Now that I think about it that adds to my theory, right?”
“Your theory about Pappy dumping Old Bertha?”
“Yeah,” Polly said, her voice rising. “Maybe he’s sick or something and wants to make sure Old Bertha can stand on her own two feet. Do you think that’s it? Do you think Pappy is sick?”
“I have no idea,” Erinn said. “But I suppose it’s a possibility.”
“Man, that would just suck,” Polly said, her fingers flying in front of her mouth again. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I probably shouldn’t say ‘suck’ on camera. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Erinn said. “My camera has heard w
orse. Thanks. That’s it for now.”
Erinn clicked off the camera.
“Was that OK?” Polly asked.
“Yes!” Erinn said emphatically. “It was really good. We’ll get out of your way.”
Erinn turned to tell Wesley to start packing up the gear. Her voice caught in her throat. Wesley was staring into space. He had turned deathly pale.
“Wesley?” Erinn said softly.
Wesley snapped to, his color and relaxed demeanor returning instantly.
“Ready to go, boss?” he asked.
“We’re wrapped at this location,” Erinn said, teeth on edge at hearing “boss” yet again.
Wesley started to pack the tripod into its case. Erinn put the lens cap back on her camera and started to disassemble the light stand, but she kept her eyes on Wesley.
What was really on his mind?
Chapter 22
Polly went back to work, laying her gorgeous cowboy and cowgirl hats, one at a time, in mountains of tissue paper. She popped each cloud of tissue-covered hat into a hat box, closed the lid, and added it to a rising stack beside her work area.
Wesley stopped packing gear and watched the hats disappearing into the paper.
“Those are really great-looking hats,” he said. “I should buy one.”
“Not a problem,” Polly said, pointing out the rack of cowboy hats on the wall. “See if there is anything you like over there. If not, I’ll make you one to order.”
Erinn put her hands on her hips, expecting Wesley to notice that his “boss” was getting more than a little annoyed with him.
Fat chance.
Erinn continued to wrap gear while Wesley tried on cowboy hats.
“What about this one?” he asked, facing Polly.
“It’s too big,” Polly said. “A cowboy hat should be snug, not just perch on your head. You don’t want it to come off when you’re riding fences.”
Erinn snorted. As if Wesley were going to be riding fences anytime soon. She realized she didn’t really know what “riding fences” meant. She was pretty sure Wesley didn’t know either.
Wesley tried on another hat, this one winning Polly’s approval. He put it on the counter.
“Do you want to wear it now or should I pack it up?” Polly asked as she rang up the sale.
“I’ll wear it,” Wesley said. He put it on his head and turned to Erinn. “Hey, Erinn, what do you think?”
“If you got one that’s tight enough to stay on your head while you pack gear,” Erinn said without looking up, “then I love it.”
Wesley gave Polly a wink and began helping Erinn pack. Polly went back to packing her own boxes.
“I have a big order for hats from a hat shop in Galveston,” Polly said. “Pappy used to take me there in the Covered Volkswagen. I guess I’ll see if Poet can borrow a truck and take me.”
Jeffries stuck his head in the door. “I noticed you packing up,” he said to Erinn, “so I assume the interview is over. I’ve been standing outside. Shall I turn the Closed sign around to Open?”
Jeffries flipped the sign at Polly’s nod.
“Look who’s here,” Erinn said, a little too heartily. “Jeffries is back from Spoonerville.”
“Just in time,” Wesley said.
Erinn was surprised. It hadn’t occurred to her that perhaps he was getting bored with his role as underling. That thought annoyed her, but not as much as the idea of him tailing her any longer.
“Polly needs a ride to Galveston,” Wesley said, cutting Erinn off before she could utter a word.
“Don’t be crazy,” Polly said, although Erinn could hear the excitement in her voice. “Galveston is four hours from here! It’s an overnight trip.”
Jeffries stood silently at the door.
“I’m not sure your boyfriend would be happy to see you going off with another man,” Erinn said, desperately trying to circumvent this latest disaster initiated by Wesley.
“Oh, he wouldn’t care,” Polly said. “I mean, he never minded me going off with Pappy. Another old guy won’t make a difference.”
Erinn saw a slight twinge in Jeffries’s cheek muscle. Jeffries was a good thirty years younger than Pappy, and while he clearly had no more interest in Polly than she had in him, the comparison probably stung.
“Let’s not hear another word about it,” Wesley said, digging out his wallet and handing a black American Express card to Jeffries. “I insist.”
“Didn’t you say you knew how to drive a limousine?” Erinn asked.
“I said I knew how to drive one,” Wesley replied. “I didn’t say I intended to drive one.”
“I won’t be leaving until tomorrow,” Polly said, unsure of where she stood. “Is that OK?”
“That’s fine,” Wesley said. “I’m sure Jeffries can keep himself busy until then, can’t you, Jeffries?”
“Maybe he can keep himself busy as my PA?” Erinn said.
“No need,” Wesley said. “I’ve got you covered, boss.”
“Well, cool,” Polly said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeffries. Thanks.”
“No need to thank me, miss,” Jeffries said with a small bow. “Let me know if I can be of service in the meantime.”
Jeffries was out the door as quietly as he’d entered.
Erinn wheeled on Wesley, who was blithely wrapping up the rest of the equipment. She could not remember meeting a more arrogant man in her entire life.
* * *
Dymphna carried the rabbits from their habitat to the grassy area of the yard she’d cordoned off for their use. She sat in the thick grass and looked around her farm as the Angoras hopped languidly around the yard. She’d made a life for herself here. It would soon be a busy fall. The goats’ hair would need to be collected, as well as the rabbits’. In a few years, her farm and the vineyards would keep her busy all year long. Fruits would need to be canned and made into preserves starting in early summer, followed by the animals’ hair being thinned in the fall and the garden mulched and prepared for the following spring. Winter would give her time to knit new creations from both the goat and rabbit mohair. As the weather warmed, she’d start a garden and make repairs to her farm buildings, in preparation for yet another spring. It seemed perfect, everything she’d ever wanted in life.
Blanche jumped in Dymphna’s lap. She absentmindedly stroked the Angora’s soft fur as she thought about Professor Johnson. In all her plans, Professor Johnson was front and center. She guiltily admitted to herself that although there were times when she pictured a future without Fat Chance, she never pictured her future in Fat Chance without Professor Johnson. She looked up at the hills that embraced Fat Chance, covered in their fledgling grapevines. She didn’t know much about their timeline—when the grapes would be harvested, when they would be turned into wine, what would happen to the wine once it was made. The professor was interested in her every thought about the farm and she certainly wasn’t returning the favor in terms of being interested in his passions. She felt guilty when she realized how much she took him for granted.
After returning the rabbits to their habitat, she let the goats and chickens back into the barnyard. Although she would never let the Angoras hop around the dirt barnyard, she always put the other animals in the barn when it was time to let the rabbits roam. The rabbits were used to tranquility, and a pen full of farm animals was anything but tranquil.
She stood up and looked down at the town. She smiled as she saw Professor Johnson coming out of the Boozehound with Thud by his side. She made a vow to herself that she would take more of an interest in Professor Johnson’s passions. Even if she disagreed with his vision, his heart was in the right place.
Her smile faded when she saw Maggie pop out from inside the jail and stride over to Professor Johnson. Dymphna walked to the edge of the farm and leaned on the fence in the vain hope that the wind would carry the conversation up from the boardwalk. The professor and Maggie seemed oblivious to Dymphna watching them. But Thud turned his large square hea
d in her direction and wagged his tail. Then he turned and followed Professor Johnson and Maggie into the jail.
Dymphna gripped the fence post. Maggie always accused her of running away from confrontation, but Maggie was always confronting her. Dymphna decided she was not going to run this time. She would just stay up here and keep herself busy. There was always plenty to do on a farm. Then she quickly changed her mind and ran down the hill as fast as she could toward the jail.
She was out of breath when she hit Main Street. She slowed her pace, refusing to arrive winded and wild-eyed at the jail. She walked briskly past the shuttered Boozehound and the café. She was in Pappy’s domain now, passing the bank and city hall. She stood in front of the jail. Peeking in the window, she saw that Maggie and Professor Johnson were not in the room, nor in the cell. Thud was curled up inside, in a patch of sunlight.
Why aren’t you guarding Professor Johnson? Dymphna thought irrationally.
She tested the door. It opened instantly and Dymphna crept inside. Thud scrambled to his feet and staggered sleepily toward her. She scratched his head while she listened. She couldn’t hear any conversation coming from the back room, but since the door was slightly ajar—as all doors in Fat Chance tended to be—she made her way to the back room. No one was there.
Thud looked up at her.
“Where is Daddy, big guy?” Dymphna asked.
She hated referring to Professor Johnson as “Daddy,” but refused to call a human being “master.” She tried calling Professor Johnson Thud’s “friend,” but that just sounded cloying. Next, she gave “human” a shot. Nothing seemed to fit, so she settled on “Daddy.”
Thud seemed to understand and scratched at the back door. Dymphna looked out the small window and saw the professor and Maggie, heads bent together. Before she knew it, she’d opened the door and Thud had rushed past her. Maggie bent to pat the dog, as if being in the backyard with her sister’s boyfriend was the most natural thing in the world.
Livin' Large in Fat Chance, Texas Page 15