“How do you figure that?”
“Because he’s not comfortable with the kind of people we’ve got in Byerly.”
“If you mean Aunt Nellie and Uncle Ruben, there aren’t any other people like them, in Byerly or anywhere else.”
I poked him in the side, but said, “Okay, I admit that they’re unusual, but the fact is, a lot of the people in Byerly don’t know what the heck a management consultant does. For that matter, there are plenty of people in Boston who don’t. It’s Marshall’s job to explain himself and what he does. He has to learn their language.”
“I don’t think he can fake a Southern accent.”
I poked him again. “Don’t you remember how people reacted when you first came to Byerly?”
“They did seem to be taken aback.”
“They didn’t know how to take you: aback, frontward, or sideways. You had a funny accent, you quoted Shakespeare all the time, and you didn’t know anything about the South.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” he said, sounding injured.
“Yes, you were,” I insisted, “but you got away with it because you were with me and I could translate for you. Besides, you were willing to learn. That made all the difference in the world.”
“What about my charm?”
“That helped.”
“And my devastating good looks?”
“That, too.”
“And my rapierlike wit?”
“Don’t push it. Anyway, you also had other advantages that the Saunders don’t. You had me to guide you, and I’d already been through it myself.”
“But you’re from Byerly,” Richard objected.
“I know, but I’d gone away, and I came back talking computers and M.I.T. and Boston, saying things that didn’t mean squat to the people here. I had to learn to put it into terms they’d appreciate.” It sounded simple now, but I’d really made a fool of myself when I made that first trip back home. Fortunately, Paw had tactfully let me know I was putting on airs. That was a mistake Richard had never made.
I went on, “More importantly, you were never a threat to anybody, while Marshall is going to be in charge of people’s jobs. Southerners don’t mind an eccentric—heck, we prefer having a good eccentric around—but when the eccentric is the boss, eccentricities lose their charm real quick. If Marshall wants to work here, he’s going to have to make himself understood so folks will see what he’s trying to do. Otherwise, he’ll never be able to get them to go along, and the whole thing will be a disaster.”
“You’ve got a point.” He paused. “Does this mean you agree with Uncle Ruben?”
“That’s a scary thought, isn’t it? I guess I do, but not for the same reasons.” Unfortunately, in terms of giving Burt Walters something he could use, my reasons were no better than Uncle Ruben’s.
Chapter 8
By then, the grills were doing land-office business and long tables had been covered with chips, potato salad, coleslaw, and fixings for burgers and hot dogs.
“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I’m getting hungry.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Richard said.
We took our place in the nearest line, but as we got closer to the business end, I said, “There’s only one problem. Which side of the field should we sit on?”
“Good question. Maybe we should eat in the parking lot.”
I was seriously considering it, but by the time we made it to the front of the line and filled our paper plates, a bus had driven onto the field and people were unloading speakers and instruments onto a low stage right smack dab in the middle of no-man’s-land. “I think we’ve got an out,” I said. “That’s the Ramblers’ bus. Surely it can’t be politically incorrect to eat with the band.”
Roger Bailey had become my uncle by marriage twice. During his first marriage to Aunt Ruby Lee, they’d produced my cousin Ilene and some of the most outrageous fights the Burnettes had ever seen, mostly because of the carousing that Roger felt was a necessary part of his life as a country musician. Aunt Ruby Lee didn’t think it was at all necessary, so divorced him to marry again.
When that marriage fell apart, Roger was back on the scene, swearing that he was a changed man. So she’d married him again, and apparently he really had changed, because they’d been getting along famously, much to the family’s relief. It didn’t hurt that Aunt Ruby Lee had started going along with him on the Ramblers’ road trips, making sure that prospective groupies knew what they were up against. Even with three children well on their way to being grownup, Aunt Ruby Lee’s blond hair, dimples, and bosomy figure were enough to discourage most competitors.
Uncle Roger was carrying a guitar case out of the bus as we walked up, but when he saw us, he put it down on the grass so he could give us both hugs. Roger is a big man, so a hug from him is an experience, and I lost half of my potato chips in the process.
“I didn’t know y’all were in town,” he said.
“We just got in a little while ago,” I said.
“Why on earth didn’t Ruby Lee tell me y’all were coming?” I was about to explain that it had been a last-minute decision when he boomed, “Ruby Lee—why didn’t you tell me Laurie Anne and Richard were coming?”
She came out from behind the bus, hugged us with much less loss of food, and said, “Nora only called me this morning, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you, Roger.” She saw our plates, and said, “Shoot, your lunch is going to get cold.” Though Richard and I volunteered to help unload the bus, she wouldn’t hear of it and bustled around until she’d found two folding chairs and pulled them up to one of the larger speakers so we could have a table to eat from.
We chatted as the two of them went back and forth setting up, and found out that it wasn’t the Ramblers playing after all, but the band that Ilene and her half brothers Clifford and Earl had put together. The three cousins arrived just as Richard and I were finishing up, and there were more hugs and then we all went to work getting everything ready for the performance.
As always, it amazed me to see how much equipment it took for a concert—instruments, speakers, amplifiers, and miles of power cord snaking everywhere. We were so busy arranging and rearranging that I didn’t have a chance to ask what they thought about the buyout, but as things turned out, I didn’t need to.
Uncle Roger and Aunt Ruby Lee were making one last adjustment when my cousin Linwood came up to Clifford and said, “I guess you’re not planning on working up at the mill again.”
Linwood, a stocky, thick-faced man with hair that kinked despite his best efforts, had never been my favorite cousin, and the way he’d just spoken to Clifford was part of the reason why. To start in on a conversation without saying “hello” and “how’s your folks” is considered rude anywhere in the South, and to forgo the niceties when talking to somebody in your own family is unheard of. Only certified eccentrics like Aunt Maggie can get away with it, and Linwood was too young and too mean to be an eccentric.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clifford said.
“It means that you’d better not try to get your job back after taking Big Bill Walters’s and Marshall Saunders’s money to play for them. You’d wouldn’t last a day anywhere in the mill, especially not in my department. There’s too many ways to get hurt.”
Clifford’s face got red, but before he could say anything, Earl spoke up.
“Come on Linwood, it’s just a job. We’ve never even met Saunders. This is just what we do—we play music for people.”
“The hell you say! This isn’t just playing music. You making things all nice for Saunders is the same as saying you think him throwing us out onto the street is okay.” Linwood shook his head. “I’m surprised at you, Earl. I expected better.”
Though Linwood and Earl were several years apart in age, they’d always been close, and I could see that Earl was hurt by what his childhood role model was saying.
“Well, this is just exactly what I expected of you,” Ilene snapped. �
��You leave Earl alone, Linwood.”
Linwood turned on her. “Aren’t we all high-and-mighty for somebody who prances around on stage with her—”
“Linwood!” Aunt Ruby Lee said. “What on earth has gotten into you?”
Uncle Roger was right behind her, looking thunderous. He loved his stepsons Earl and Clifford as if they were his own, and Ilene was his own. “If you’ve got something to say, boy, you can say it to me.”
Aunt Ruby Lee added, “The kids are only playing here because Roger and I asked them to so the Ramblers can get some rest before we go on the road. We agreed to do it before we even knew what the cookout was for.”
Linwood sneered. “So you’ll take anybody’s money? Y’all know how it looks to work for the Walters right now.”
“I haven’t heard anything about you turning down your paycheck,” Uncle Roger said.
“That’s different,” Linwood spat. “I’m loyal to the mill, no matter how they’ve treated me, but if Walters and Saunders think we’re going to bend over and let them—”
“Linwood!” Aunt Ruby Lee gasped.
Linwood had the good sense to rephrase. “If they think the union is going to lie down and let them walk all over us, they’ve got another think coming. And if y’all think nobody is going to hold it against you that you played for Walters today, y’all better think again, too.”
He turned to stomp away, then saw me and Richard. “I should have known you two would be on this side of the field.”
“We’re in the middle,” I pointed out.
“Does that mean you’re for the buyout or against it?”
“Neither,” I said. “We just got to town, and we don’t have all the facts yet. Even if we did, it’s not our place to say what’s what.”
“That figures—too mealy-mouthed to take a stand, even when your own family is in trouble.”
“Linwood—” I started to say, but then stopped. It wasn’t worth the effort. “If you want to tell us why you’re so against the buyout, we’d be happy to listen, but I’m not going to stand here and let you insult us.”
“Neither am I,” Uncle Roger said. “You just go on and get out of here.”
“It’s a public place,” Linwood said defiantly.
Uncle Roger didn’t bother to say anything. He just stepped forward, one hand clenched into a fist. Behind him, Clifford followed suit. Linwood glared at them, but he went.
“I wish you hadn’t done that, Roger,” Aunt Ruby Lee said.
“Honey, if that boy wasn’t your flesh and blood, I’d have done a whole lot more than that. He’s got no call to be talking to Laurie Anne that way, let alone what he said to Ilene and the boys.”
“I know,” Aunt Ruby Lee said sadly. “I just hate to fan the flames any worse than they already are.”
“How could they get any worse?” I asked. “Linwood has never been my favorite cousin, but I’ve never known him to be this nasty. Not in public, anyway.”
Aunt Ruby Lee said, “This buyout has got him as grumpy as a bear. He hasn’t even been back at the mill long enough to get his old rating back, and now he’s scared to death that he’s going to lose his job altogether.”
“It’s not just the buyout,” Clifford said. “It’s Caleb Wilkins dating Aunt Edna that’s got Linwood’s shorts in a bunch.”
“It’s hard for him,” Aunt Ruby Lee said. “Especially after the way his daddy died.”
Though nobody else in the family had mourned Linwood’s father Loman, Linwood had never really gotten over his loss.
“Besides,” Aunt Ruby Lee added, “having your mama get married again can be rough on anybody.” She looked pointedly at Clifford. He hadn’t been thrilled when she remarried the first time, or even the second or third, though he seemed happy to have Roger as his stepfather now.
Clifford, remembering some of the tricks he’d played on the men his mother had loved, looked sheepish. “I guess you’re right.”
“Anyway,” Roger said, “I’m glad we’re going to be out of this after tonight.”
“Did I hear you say you’re going on the road?” Richard asked.
“Bright and early tomorrow morning. The kids are coming, too, so I’m glad we got a chance to see y’all. We’ll be gone the better part of a month, so I don’t guess you’ll still be here when we get back.”
“Rats,” I said. “I was kind of hoping that there’d be somebody else around who’s staying neutral on this buyout business.”
“If I were you two, I’d stay just as far away from all of this mess as I could,” Aunt Ruby Lee said. “It’ll blow over soon, one way or the other.”
It sounded like good advice to me, and I only wished Richard and I were going to be able to follow it.
Chapter 9
They still had a performance to get ready for, so Richard and I left them to it and went in search of more Burnettes. At least, that’s what we meant to do, but we got sidetracked by the dessert table. Then we had to get some lemonade to go with the cookies, which made navigating through the thickening crowd tough. Not wanting to make a political statement, we walked to the far end of the field and had a seat on the bleachers instead of settling on either side.
“I don’t suppose the Ramblers could use a couple of extra roadies,” I said to Richard as I wiped crumbs from my hands.
“If you want to, we can get a plane home tomorrow.”
“No, we can’t. What would Burt think if we backed out now?”
“I don’t care what he thinks. I care about you.”
I reached for his hand. “I know, and I appreciate it. But we’ve made a commitment, and I wouldn’t feel right giving up so easily. I just wish I’d realized how much the family would disagree about the buyout.”
“Disagree? The Montagues and the Capulets disagreed. This is all-out war. Their heads are ‘as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat.’ Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 1.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to get worse before it gets better,” I said sadly. “Would you rather we go home?”
“Of course not, Laura, not if you don’t want to. I agreed to make the attempt, too.”
“Okay, then. What next?”
“More cookies?”
I grinned. “I’ll buy that.”
We made our way back to the dessert table without getting caught up in any more arguments, and were picking through the dwindling platters of cookies when Big Bill Walters came onto the stage in the center of the field and announced Carolina Dreaming, the current name the kids were performing under. I was relieved to hear applause from both sides of the field, and Richard and I moved closer to watch them play.
At first I was so happy listening and tapping my foot in time to the music that I didn’t notice something was missing. Then I turned to Richard, and yelling over the music, said, “Nobody’s dancing.”
Ilene must have noticed, too, because she started looking around, and her voice faltered as she started the second number. Then Uncle Roger dragged Aunt Ruby Lee into the cleared area in front of the stage, and started an enthusiastic two-step. Suddenly Richard pulled me out to dance, too.
I’m a lousy dancer, and I wasn’t happy about dancing so visibly. Usually I wait until enough other people are on a dance floor that I can safely hide myself in the middle, but the thumbs-up from Uncle Roger and Aunt Ruby Lee mouthing, “Thank you,” helped make up for my embarrassment.
The strategy worked, too. Slowly other couples joined in, and though there wasn’t any mingling between the pro and con factions, at least people were having a good time instead of glaring at one another. Exhaustion and knowing that we’d helped get things going convinced Richard and me to drop out after the fourth song, and we gladly headed for the lemonade table, which was safely in neutral territory.
I chugged down one cup, refilled it, and was turning away from the table when somebody barreled into me. Half of the lemonade slopped down my leg, and before I could recover, somebody else ran into me, knocking the cup
clean out of my hand.
“Crystal, Jason,” a resigned voice called. “Why don’t y’all watch where you’re going?”
Now I recognized the missiles that had hit me as two of my second cousins, and the woman behind them as a cousin-in-law. “Hey, Sue,” I said hesitantly. After our encounter with Linwood, I wasn’t sure what kind of reception we’d get from his wife and children.
I needn’t have worried. Sue had spent much of her married life ignoring Linwood’s faults, enough so that they’d produced four alarmingly healthy children. Jason and Crystal were the middle two. Tiffany, the oldest, was behind Sue, pushing the baby, Amber, in a battered umbrella stroller. If that stroller had made it through all four of those kids, I didn’t blame it for being battered.
“Hey, there,” Sue said, and gave Richard and me quick hugs. “Laurie Anne, did they make you spill your drink?”
“No big deal,” I said, reaching for napkins.
Sue frowned at Jason and Crystal, who were shoving each other to determine who’d get to the lemonade first. “Y’all apologize to Laurie Anne.”
“Sorry,” they muttered in unison, but didn’t stop shoving.
“You two are going to have to do better than that, or neither of y’all are getting any lemonade.”
Crystal quickly said, “I’m sorry I made you spill your drink, Laurie Anne,” but Jason whined, “But Mama, you said I could.”
“You heard me,” Sue said, not relenting.
“I’m sorry, Laurie Anne,” Jason said grudgingly.
“That’s all right,” I said, giving up the battle with the thin paper napkins. My leg was just going to have to stay sticky for a while. I only hoped that there weren’t any bees around.
“Are y’all enjoying the cookout?” I asked. I’d seen which side of the field they’d come from, so I didn’t need to ask what Sue thought about the Saunders and their plans.
“It’s not bad,” she said. “It got me out of the kitchen for a change. You haven’t seen Linwood, have you?”
“We talked to him a while ago,” I said, “but haven’t seen him lately.”
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