“Lew Eisenberg wants you to come over.”
I hug Pearl and she looks at me oddly.
“It must be good news.”
“Oh, it’s not news. Not yet, anyway.”
Pearl shrugs and returns to her work. She’s scraping the tips off the used lipstick samples in the display rack. Fleeta is sitting on a box of new shampoos, taking a smoke, so she doesn’t notice I’m leaving. As I round the corner, I feel the first cold chill of autumn. It seems like the seasons changed in the course of this one day. The cool temperature gives me a boost.
“Is your beloved inside?” I ask Inez.
She thinks this is a little too hilarious, and laughs. “Go on in,” she says.
Lew is sitting behind his desk. He motions for me to sit down. He turns up the radio, so Inez can’t hear us. He goes over the legalities of my plan. He says one thing that concerns me: Wayne Lambert’s first cousin, Buddy Lambert, is our circuit court judge at the county level, and he is known as Judge Envelope. He can be bought, and Lew believes Wayne has probably already cut a deal. There is a part of me that agrees with Aunt Alice; Fred Mulligan’s money and real estate don’t really belong to me. Maybe I caused all this. Maybe my ambivalence about my father, the store, the money, and the house drew all these problems to me. Maybe Aunt Alice senses my weaknesses and knows how to hurt me the most. Her brother sure did; don’t these traits run in families? I don’t think she’ll quit until she makes me suffer.
Fred Mulligan was the most obstinate man I ever knew. His stubbornness—not his affection for my mother—is what made their marriage last. When I was in high school, he insisted that a lemon tree could grow in Big Stone Gap. No matter how much we argued with him, he could not accept that lemons need heat and sun to grow, the opposite of overcast and cool mountain weather. When the plant didn’t bear fruit, he blamed the mail-order company. The lemon tree is still in the backyard. Its branches are gray and twisted, wrapped around the drainpipe by the back-porch stoop. I’ll never tear it down; it reminds me not to turn bitter.
Lew sees my uncertainty. “You’re doing the right thing, Ave Maria,” he reassures me.
I have to stand up for myself. There is no one here to do that for me. For the first time in my life, I truly understand alone. My mother is gone. There is no brother or sister for me to turn to, no husband, just my intuition.
I don’t want the Lamberts to get a dime. I think of Aunt Alice mistreating my mother, and it is all the fuel I need. Lew gives me the paperwork, which I sign. He hides it in a satchel to take to court. Then Lew shakes my hand. He places both hands on mine, to give me support and courage. I want to hug him, but I can’t.
I pass Inez, who is now sitting at her desk, and turn back to Lew with one final thought.
“Lew, thank you for helping me. Aunt Alice and Uncle Wayne really deserve all they’re getting. It’s what Fred Mulligan would have wanted.”
Lew stands in the doorway. “We’re happy to have been of service to you.” Lew waves good-bye.
I’m out on the street, and I can hear Inez chatting on the phone already.
Insko is a tract of free land between Big Stone Gap and Appalachia that had been strip-mined. Instead of reclaiming the area, HUD put up low-income housing. When the valley floods, they move the people high up into the hills until their homes in the valley can be rebuilt. Sometimes it takes so long, folks give up and stay where they were placed.
Folks around here both rely upon and resent the government. When I was in school, we benefited from many programs. All of our vaccinations were free. Our lunch trays were filled with freebies: small bags of peanuts, a chocolate bar, or my favorite: a wedge of cheddar stamped GOVERNMENT CHEESE. They even sent entertainment from time to time. When I was in high school, a production of Harvey toured through, out of New York. I wasn’t the only student to notice that the lead actor was drunk and actually fell asleep onstage during the second act. But we didn’t care. We were looking for any excuse to be a part of the outside world, to see what folks looked like, sounded like, and wore. For fifteen cents, you could see a show and imagine the exciting lives of those actors on the stage. We were never disappointed.
Pearl and her mother live in one of the older homes at the far end of the Insko development. I have dropped Pearl off several times, so I know where to go. I pull up in front of the two-room house. I didn’t call ahead because I couldn’t—they still don’t have a phone, and they aren’t planning on getting one, as Pearl is saving for college. The aluminum siding needs replacing, and the porch is rickety and practically separated from the house. The government is not very diligent about maintenance. The windows are thin side-by-side sliders, no insulation. I can see a light on in the house. A few kids play nearby. They stop and stare at me. I fish around my purse for some gum. I find it and give it to them. They thank me and run off.
I knock a few times. Finally, the screen door cracks open about an inch.
“Mrs. Grimes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Ave Maria Mulligan, from town.”
Leah Grimes peeks out at me.
“Pearl went to fetch some leaves or something for her science project.”
“May I come in and wait for her?”
“I guess so.”
Leah Grimes opens the door to reveal a very clean but sparsely furnished room. There is an old bench, a small table, and a lamp. In the next room are two neatly made twin beds with old quilts on them. The kitchenette is neat. A pot of soup simmers on one of the two burners. Pearl comes in the door, breathless.
“Is everything all right, Miss Ave?”
“Everything is fine.”
“Mama, this is my boss, Miss Ave.”
“I know that.” Leah stands tall but looks at me funny.
“Pearl is a good worker. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“I know. She’s a good girl.”
“Has she brought you any of that miraculous Queen Helene masque yet?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leah smiles and covers her mouth.
“I apologize if we’ve used you as a guinea pig for our new products, but we needed a woman with natural beauty to test it out on.”
“I used to be pretty, before I lost my teeth.”
“You know they can give you new teeth in town.”
“Someday. Right, Mama?” Pearl says, and gives her mother’s hand a quick squeeze.
“Would you like some tea?” Leah asks, finally warming up.
“If you don’t mind, I’ve got some business to discuss with Pearl.” Pearl stands up straight and acts terribly grown-up at the mention of business.
Pearl takes me on a tour of the development. About a quarter mile down the road is one of our local natural wonders: the waterfalls of Roaring Branch. It’s a magical place, natural stone steps with pure mountain water rushing over them. Folks come this way to sit and think and take in the beauty.
“You didn’t know we was so poor, did you?”
“I make a lot of deliveries in these parts.”
Pearl and I sit and look at the water for a long time.
“How come you drove up here to see me? Am I fired or something?”
“No. You’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you. I bug Fleeta sometimes,” Pearl apologizes. She looks at me expectantly, wondering why I’ve come.
“Pearl, do you have a dollar?”
“You just paid me. I got forty-six dollars.”
“I just need one.”
Pearl takes out her beaded coin purse and unfolds her money neatly. She gives me a dollar bill. “Do you need more? Here. Take as much as you want.”
“No, thanks. One will do it. Now, let’s shake on it.”
Pearl is confused, but she shakes my hand.
“Congratulations, Pearl. You just bought the Mutual Pharmacy.”
“I did? But why?”
As I walk Pearl back to her house, I explain that in order to protect the business from the scaven
ger Lamberts, I had to sell, and sell quickly. I had to make some big decisions in a hurry. I decided to sell my business so it couldn’t be taken from me.
When we get back to the house, Pearl turns to me.
“Can I tell Mama?”
“Absolutely. Just tell her to keep it top secret until I say so.”
“Miss Ave, are you sure about this?”
“Yes, ma’am. By the way, just because you own the place, you are under no obligation to become a pharmacist. You go to college and study whatever you’d like and be whatever it is you decide you want to be. Fleeta and I can hold down the fort while you’re gone. Fleeta will probably hit you up for a raise directly. I’m not so forward. But I do have a lot of experience, should you decide to keep me. I have a knack with the public.”
“But why did you pick me? Of all people?”
“Well, let’s just put it this way, Pearl Grimes. You’re just about the best person I ever knew.”
Pearl smiles. In the slate-blue twilight, her face is pure, unlined, and full of joy. Something good has finally happened to Pearl. At long last, somebody believes in her. Tonight in this exchange she has gained the tools with which she will build her self-esteem: She has been chosen and she has security. Maybe this is all that a person ever needs to succeed. Pearl has been picked, and that has begun to define her.
I promised Iva Lou I would meet her at the Sub Sandwich Carry-Out for a bite. This is mainly a teen hangout, but the rest of us go because the food is good. It has a nice ambiance; the plastic Tiffany-style chandeliers and orange Formica booths are casual and comfortable.
I tell Iva Lou about Aunt Alice and selling the business to Pearl.
“Honey-o, you ought to thank the Lord you came up with a plan like that. If your mean old aunt ever got her mangy mitts on the Mutual, nobody would trade over there. It’d close down. Ain’t nobody gonna do trading with that witch.”
“Lew really knows what he’s doing.”
“You know what I always say. A good lawyer is harder to find than a good husband. I’ll have to swing by and thank old Lew my way.” Iva Lou winks.
“Please. I’m in enough trouble.”
“Aw, I’m just kidding with you. But what happens to you? What will you do?” Of course, I’ve thought about this. I’ve never made an impulsive decision in my life.
“I’ve saved a lot of money, Iva Lou.”
“Good for you.”
“I’ll work for Pearl for a while, and then we’ll see what happens.”
Dickie and Arlan Baker, two Mormon fellows, join us in the booth. Iva Lou makes the introductions, as she was the one who set up the meeting. The Baker brothers look to be in their twenties. They are clean; their hair is cropped short, their skin smooth and pink. (Mama always told me to cut down on the soda pop, because it’s bad for the skin. As a rule, Mormons don’t drink pop; their skin is an advertisement to give it up entirely.) They wear regulation black trousers and white cotton button-down shirts. For as many years as there have been Mormons, the young men have gone door-to-door wearing the same clothing combo, passing out the same literature, preaching like the good missionaries they are. The brothers have come to the Pharmacy a couple of times, but I was always too busy to talk to them.
“Boys, we need your help out of Salt Lake City. We need to climb up Ave Maria’s family tree.” Iva Lou opens a spiral notebook and uncaps her pen. “There’s a man over in It-lee, and we need to find him pronto. That means ‘fast’ in Italian.”
I laugh because this is one of the first words I taught Iva Lou.
“How can we help you?” Dickie—or is it Arlan?—asks.
“This is pretty much all the information we have on Mario Barbari presently.” Iva Lou gives them the book with the picture of Mario as the mayor of Schilpario in it. “Don’t lose it. UVA’ll have my hide.” Dickie looks at Mario’s picture.
“I think we can help. Most folks don’t have pictures.”
Iva Lou listens as the Baker brothers explain how the Mormons came to be experts in genealogy. God bless her patience. She is such a dear friend, but I’m worried. We are so caught up in how to find Mario, I haven’t had time to think about what will happen if we do. What if he rejects me? How will I handle it? I’m peeling off my old life like wet clothes. It isn’t easy, but I have to do it. What will my new life be? Letting go of the Pharmacy, something I thought I would never do, wasn’t sad. It was exhilarating. I am becoming lighter. Will finding Mario da Schilpario be the one thing that brings me happiness? Will I truly be free of my Mulligan past when Alice Lambert finally gets her comeuppance?
Iva Lou rips the pages out of her spiral notebook. “Y’all scoot. And here’s my number when you get the information.”
Dickie and Arlan thank Iva Lou for dinner. They take their black valises and go.
“Iva Lou, what would I do without you?”
“Well, honey-o, somebody’s got to put a fire under your butt. I see how you operate. You get all caught up in other people’s dramas instead of your own. You need to be your own Rescue Squad, honey-o. Stop neglecting yourself.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Sure you do. You ain’t getting any, Ave, and that’s a big problem.”
“How do you know I’m not getting any?”
“I just know.”
Iva Lou sucks the last bit of Tab through the straw. She swishes the ice around in the glass and starts chewing on it. “It ain’t healthy to go without.” I must look horrified because she holds up her index finger to punctuate the importance of what she is saying. “You know, I’ve known me a lot of men. And the one thing I’ve learned is that they’re all different. With each new experience that I rack up, I learn something new that I take with me as I move ahead in life. Sex is the most important thing there is on this earth.”
“What?” I whisper. And then Iva Lou repeats what she just said, this time with more volume. She raps the table when she’s finished.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only mystery.”
I don’t know if Iva Lou is profound or an idiot. Or if she has searched high and low for meaning in all her romances. Sex is a mystery? To whom? Not to her. I don’t understand why she is saying this to me.
“Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved,” she says. “A friend of mine gave me a coffee mug with that on it a while back, and I’ve made it my personal philosophy. Plus, you have to find your father before you can love any man.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” I brush Iva Lou off with a wave.
“You should. It’s true. Why do you think I’m helping you try to find him? I know what your problem is and how to fix it. You were told something all your life that was a lie. I happen to think you knew all along it was a lie. But that is something for you to figure out on your own after all of this is over. When people live lies, they stop connecting. When they stop connecting, trust dies. Honey-o, you can’t be with a man because you can’t trust one. You can’t get naked, and I’m using that not literally but as a figure of speech. You follow me? To my way of thinking, if you can find your father, it will be a revelation to you. You will be able to place yourself in this world. You will finally know where you belong. You ain’t one of us, Ave Maria. And not because your mama was a feriner. You separated yourself from folks around here. And I don’t mean that to be cruel. You’ve lived here your whole life, but nobody really knows you. The first time I got a glimpse of what makes you tick was that night we read the books over at your house. You were looking at those books like old Kent Vanhook looks at my ass. There was a hunger there, a desire at long last.”
Some high school boys are playing a long song called “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” for the third time. Iva Lou shouts at them to pick something else, like Mac Davis’s “One Hell of a Woman” (her personal favorite) or Conway Twitty’s latest.
Then the bells on the entrance door jingle. They’re exact replicas of the ones I have on my door at the
Pharmacy. Every merchant in town has a set from Zackie’s Bargain Store, and the same sweet ring happens when you go into any store in the Gap. Through the jingle, Sweet Sue comes in with Jack Mac. He sees us and walks toward us. Sweet Sue waves at us and goes to the take-out counter.
“Sue’s kids with their daddy this weekend?” Iva Lou asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack Mac replies.
“How’s your mother?” I ask. Why do I always ask him about his mother?
“She’s fine.”
“Tell her I was asking for her.” What am I? An old lady from the Methodist church sewing circle? Iva Lou shoots me a look.
“I will, ma’am.” Jack Mac looks down at the table and sees Iva Lou’s open notebook.
“Y’all working on something?” he asks.
Iva Lou looks at me to answer.
“It’s kind of a long story.” Jack Mac looks over to the take-out window. Sweet Sue chats with Delphine Moses, the owner of the Carry-Out, as she ladles tomato sauce onto the pizza dough.
“I got a few minutes.” Jack Mac sits down with Iva Lou, facing me.
“I’m trying to find my father.” Why am I telling him this? Couldn’t I just make up something light and silly, like Iva Lou’s working on a reading list for me? Why do I have to yak about my business?
“Have you heard the story going round about our Ave Maria?” Iva Lou asks as though I’m not there.
“I’ve heard some,” Jack Mac replies.
“We’re trying to find an Eye-talian gentleman, who is our Ave’s real father.”
“Yep, I’m a bastard,” I joke.
“No, you’re not. That’s a label adults put to babies. To my way of thinking, there isn’t a soul born that wasn’t supposed to be here.” Jack Mac says this as though it’s the simplest concept in the world.
Iva Lou and I look at each other.
“How’s the search going?” Jack Mac asks, picking up Iva Lou’s notebook and scanning it.
“Iva Lou got the Mormons involved. I guess they know how to find people.”
“They sure do. Generally, they just ring your bell.” Iva Lou and I laugh. Jack Mac doesn’t laugh at his own joke, and I respect that.
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