by Rhett DeVane
She imagined an innocent conversation over coffee at a truck stop off the Interstate. Like her, Marcus would be older, but much more tattered, with wisps of gray in his wavy dark hair. If he still had any. What if he didn’t recall the pivotal event of her young life? Hannah might leave the encounter convinced the whole affair had been ill-advised, and all that rich, righteous indignation would have to disappear.
Hannah tapped her fingernails on the sides of her cup. Would her life have turned out differently if the Southern Don Juan had married her? Absolutely. No doubt, she would have a set of dark-haired children with soulful eyes. Judging by Marcus’s limited fidelity, the union would’ve crumbled, leaving her a bitter single parent.
Hannah shuddered, then glanced heavenward. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mouthed.
“It’s way hot in here,” Justine commented when she appeared for her customary breakfast of buttered toast and coffee. “I started to sweat the minute I got out of the shower.”
“Tell your father.” Hannah motioned to the back of the Tallahassee Democrat.
“You women are wearing me out,” Norman’s voice sounded from behind the daily paper. “I’ll call someone to check out the AC unit. Probably needs juicing up with Freon.”
“I think it’s more than that, hon.” Hannah dabbed perspiration from her upper lip. “We had it serviced the end of last summer. It shouldn’t be on the fritz again.”
Norman snapped the paper closed and folded it beside his plate. “Could be that it’s so hot and humid that it’s struggling to keep up.”
Hannah frowned at the two pieces of toast she had overcooked to charcoal. “That would describe me.”
“Until we win the lottery and buy a second home in the mountains, we’re stuck here for the summers,” Norman said with a weak smile.
“It’s even hot up there, from what the Weather Channel says. If I got in a car right now and started to drive, I might not stop until I hit Canada.” Hannah started to shave the blackened toast with a knife blade, then gave in and pitched them into the trash. “I’ll have more out in a couple of minutes, Jus.”
Norman gathered his dishes and took them to the sink. Hannah smiled. Now if she could get him to consistently put down the toilet lid.
“I’ll call the serviceman and plan on leaving early from work,” he said. “Someone will have to let him in the house.”
Hannah faked a bow in her husband’s direction. “Bless you, Norman Olsen.”
“Just kiss the ring, and back from the room.” Norman grinned.
She wanted to take him. Right there. On the kitchen floor. What the heck had gotten into her?
Jonas slipped into a chair with a loaded cereal bowl. A wave of milk and Cheerios washed over one side. “Dog-gone!”
“If you didn’t try to fit an entire box into one bowl, you wouldn’t have a problem, piglet,” Justine said.
Jonas stuck out his tongue. “Better to eat like a pig than look like one.”
Hannah signaled for a time out. “Too early for this, kids.”
“Just sharing the love, Mom,” Jonas said around a mouth full of cereal and sliced bananas.
Maxine pushed her ruby-red walker to the front desk at Rosemont. “Y’all need to check on Sarah Gordon in 201. She didn’t come down for lunch and she was pale as rice pudding this morning at breakfast.”
Beth scribbled a note. “Thank you, Miz Maxine. I’ll page Lora and ask her to look in on her.”
Maxine nodded, then turned to face Hannah. “Afternoon. You seen your mother?”
“I’m on my way down to her room right now.”
Maxine’s features darkened. “She’s not content today.”
“That so?”
“She was in a high rolling boil at lunch. Never seen her in such a frizzle.” She released the brake lever on the walker. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
“Appreciate the heads-up, Miz Maxine.”
Hannah felt her stomach lurch. “Thank the heavens above for Zoloft,” she muttered as she walked down the long carpeted hall to room 104.
The blare of the evening news sounded through the thick door. Since there was no way her mother would hear her knock, Hannah fished in her purse for the room key. She rapped as she unlocked the door. “It’s just me, Ma-Mae!”
The whoosh of a toilet flushing answered her call. The bathroom door swung open and Mae emerged, dressed only in her bra and panties.
“Good Lord All-mighty!” Mae clutched her chest. “You scared me half to death! I swannee, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days, slipping in like you do.”
“Maybe if you’d turn the television volume down, you’d hear me knocking.” She picked up the remote from the bedside table and punched the mute button. “Whew, that’s better. Couldn’t even hear myself think.”
“There’s a purpose in everything the good Lord does, even taking away a person’s hearing when she’s older. Reckon He figures I’ll be better off not to hear most of what’s going on around me.” Mae made her way through the room to the closet where she picked out a long-sleeved pink pull-over top and tan pants.
“Kind of warm for long sleeves, don’t you think?” The thought of wearing a thermal knit top brought a flush to Hannah’s skin.
“Thin blood,” Mae said. “I’m going down to watch a show in the living room. They keep it cold enough down there to hang meat.”
“I always found it perfectly comfortable.” Hannah plopped into the cushioned rocker.
“You have one of your long days?”
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” Hannah thumbed through an old Rosemont Rap. “Our air conditioner is on the fritz.”
“I can’t abide sleeping in a hot room either, even with my thin blood. In the dead of the winter, I turn the heat way down before I crawl underneath the covers.”
“Norman called the repairman today, or he was supposed to. I’ll wring his neck if he forgot.”
“You can always come bunk in with me, sugar. My air’s working fine.”
Hannah smiled at the mental image of the two of them piled in the queen-sized bed. Her mother snored loud enough to wake the dead, or at least annoy them terribly.
“Thank you Ma-Mae. I’ll get by.” She closed her eyes and rocked gently.
“Suit yourself.” Mae pulled the shirt over her head. “You get me an appointment for my nails and toes? My poor feet are beginning to feel a bit neglected.”
“Melody at the Triple C has you set up for a mani-pedi, tomorrow at three. I’m taking the afternoon off, so I’ll be here by two, the latest.”
Mae sat down and worked the pants on, one leg at a time. “What about my hair?”
Hannah opened her eyes. “Hair?”
“I need a cut and set. I know I can get the woman here to do it, but I haven’t gotten around to seeing her this week.”
“I’ll call in the morning and see if Mandy or Wanda can work you in. Why all this push to beautify?”
Mae stood and wiggled the pants to her waist. “I got a call from your uncle in Macon. My baby sister Dot’s coming down from Maryland, and they’re going to drive down for an over-nighter.”
Hannah searched her recent memory. “I don’t recall them calling me.”
“They might not have. I gave them the number of a nice motel over by the Interstate not too far from our exit.”
“They probably could’ve stayed with some of the family. We don’t have a lot of space, but Hal and Suzanne have a guest room.”
Mae wagged her finger. “You know your Aunt Dorothy, honey. She’ll bring a month’s worth of outfits, several pairs of shoes, and Lord only knows how many bags of makeup and such.”
The Triple C Day Spa and Salon was its usual fizz of activity when Hannah and Mae entered the formal front parlor. Elvina Houston glanced up from the appointment book and held up a just-a-minute finger.
“Still seems strange not to see Piddie Longman at that desk,” Mae said in a low voi
ce. “Some folks, you expect to live on forever.” Her expression grew wistful. “But she died at almost a hundred, so I suppose she came close.”
Elvina set the phone headset down. “Sorry. Sometimes, folks want to blather on and on—Lordy, I reckon some of these women around here have tongues that are loose on both ends, cause they sure wag a lot.”
“Not that you or I would know a thing about that affliction,” Mae said.
Elvina winked. “One of the privileges of aging, far as I can see.” She glanced to one of the long color-coded columns and ran a tapered nail down its length. “You’re in with Melody for a mani-pedi, then I’ve managed to squeeze you in with Wanda for a cut and style.” She looked up. “I know you generally see Mandy, but she’s slammed full. The Miss Lake Seminole contest is coming up, and the girls are starting to come in for her to experiment with fancy up-do’s.”
“Fourth of July.” Hannah sighed. “I can’t believe we’re halfway through this year already.”
“Two more weeks.” Elvina tapped the small calendar cube beside the appointment book.
“Time speeds to a gallop, the older you get,” Mae said. “Come on back to the salon and visit if you’re a mind to, Elvina.”
Elvina stuck a sharpened pencil behind one ear. “I’ve got to place an order for the stylists, then I will. Y’all make yourselves at home. Melody’s ready for you, Mae. Hannah, there’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. And some blueberry muffins from the Borrowed Thyme Bakery and Eatery. Evelyn Fletcher brought them in fresh this morning. Sure am glad her husband learned to cook.” She lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry to Evelyn’s sewing room. “Keeps us from having to suffer through Evelyn’s culinary disasters, bless her heart. My friend Piddie Longman used to swear that Evelyn’s bad cooking kept her regular.”
Three of the professional hair dryers hummed at one end of the large hair salon. Mandy waved when she saw Hannah and Mae reflected in her station’s mirror. “Y’all find a seat where you can. We’re hopping today.”
Delilah O’Donnell— budding beauty star and first cousin to Ladonna O’Donnell, local model—held up a hand mirror to study the back of her hairdo.
“How’s your mama getting along, little Miss Delilah?” Mae asked as she made her way to Melody’s nail care station.
“Okay,” the teen answered.
“You helping her out since she got home from the hospital?”
Delilah lowered the mirror. “Yes ma’am. Daddy’s making me cook and clean until she’s able.”
“Takes a good six weeks after surgery for a person to gain energy,” Mae said. “With your mama being a young woman, she’ll bounce back pretty fast. Be sure to tell her I asked ’bout her, will you?”
“Yes ’um.” Delilah plucked at a curl. “I want to have some little flowers in my hair too, Mandy.”
“Might want to wait till right before the contest, hon.” Mandy gestured with a rat-tail comb. “Unless you use silk flowers and manage to sleep sitting up.”
Delilah’s tanned shoulders rose and fell.
Melody studied Mae’s hands. “You have the prettiest, best-shaped fingers I believe I’ve ever seen.”
Mae beamed. “I could’ve been one of them hand models, if I would’ve started earlier.”
“You have a particular color in mind?” Melody wiped the old polish with a cotton ball dipped in remover.
“Scarlet. Same for my toes. Old women need to wear bright colors.”
“How many girls in the pageant this year?” Hannah asked Delilah as she settled into a director’s chair with a fresh cup of black coffee.
“Ten, I think. I don’t know how many in the Little Miss Seminole Contest.”
“What’s your talent act?” Mandy asked.
“Fire batons,” the teen answered.
“That’s always such a spectacle,” Melody said. “I’d be scared out of my wits. I’ve heard of twirlers catching their hair on fire.”
Mandy’s eyebrows rose. “As much spray as you use, Mel, you’d be a flaming torch they’d see all the way to the space station.”
“I can’t stand to have fly-aways.” Melody smoothed one side of her curly style. “Besides, that’s what hair spray’s for.”
Mae’s fingertips soaked in a crystal bowl of warm sudsy water. “I believe if your hair tried to fly, it’d have to be powered by a set of jet engines.”
A titter of laughter rippled through the salon. Hannah smiled and took a sip of the rich, espresso-blend coffee. She lived for the volley of words between women-friends. She glanced around the hair salon with its aged plank flooring and high ceilings and tried to envision the mansion as the Witherspoon family home. The tall windows looked out over an expansive garden framed with Magnolias and pines. Would this have been a sitting room?
Mandy tilted her head to one side and rested her hands on Delilah’s shoulders. “I worry about you young women. All of you try to be so pencil thin.”
“It’s not healthy,” Jolene Waters added from her position beneath the bonnet of her dryer. “You seen the Rodgers girl lately?”
Hannah snapped to attention. “Brittany?”
“She’s thin as a rail,” Jolene continued. “Looks like a concentration camp victim. She and her mama came into the Dragonfly Florist to order an arrangement for the First Baptist sanctuary for next Sunday. Child looked like she could barely put one foot ahead of the other.”
Hannah felt resolve harden inside of her like two-day-old cathead biscuits.
Wanda Orenstein Green bustled into the salon and crammed a pocketbook the size of a carpetbag beneath the cabinet at her stylist station. “Hey, youse guys.”
“You really have to learn to say y’all, Wanda Jean. We’re going to work the New Jersey out of you yet,” Mandy kidded her coworker.
Wanda’s impish green eyes sparkled in contrast to her red hair. “You got me to eat grits. What more do you want?”
“Did you get Pinky taken care of?” Melody asked.
“I left him passed out cold on the sofa.”
Mae looked up from admiring the freshly-painted nails on her left hand. “What’s ailing your husband? I hadn’t heard about him feeling poorly.”
“He’s fine.” Wanda flipped her hand. “I took him over to Tallahassee for a colonoscopy. Routine stuff. You know how they nail you with all kinds of tests after a certain age. They gave him a sedative beforehand and he’s so susceptible to medication. He only takes those herbal remedies he mixes up when he’s under the weather.”
“Good thing he’s having himself checked out.” Wanda spritzed Delilah’s style with holding spray. “I still shudder when I think about what Hattie Davis went through. She was barely forty when she had her colon cancer.”
Elvina appeared at the arched doorway dividing the front parlor from the stylist salon. She eased into an empty chair and rested the phone headset on her lap. “What did I miss?”
“We’ve already raked half of Gadsden County over the coals, Elvina. Where have you been?” Mandy asked.
Elvina sniffed. “Some of us have to work for a living.”
Mae’s Pea-Pickin’ Cake
1 box yellow butter cake mix
4 eggs
1/2 cup cooking oil
1 small can mandarin oranges, undrained
Preheat oven to 350º
Mix all ingredients and bake in three round layers for 20 minutes.
Frost when completely cool.
Frosting:
I large can crushed pineapple, undrained
1 pkg. vanilla instant pudding mix
1 large container whipped topping
Mix pineapple and pudding mix. Add whipped topping and fold together.
Use this between layers, and on top and sides of cake.
This cake must be refrigerated.
Chapter Twenty-five
Hannah turned into the Holiday Inn parking lot and lucked into a shady spot beneath a large live oak. Her mother’s family had arrived the afternoon prior
and swiped Mae from Rosemont for a mini-vacation. Since Mae had shared the hotel room with her Aunt Dot, Hannah doubted either had slept. Each time the two sisters reunited, they morphed into the schoolgirls they had once been—giggling and talking into the wee hours.
Hannah followed her Uncle Toby’s instructions, located one of the adjoining rooms, and rapped on the door.
“Here she is!” Her uncle threw open the door and smashed her to his chest. “Glad you could join us for breakfast.”
Suzanne wasn’t the only one from a family of intense huggers. Hannah took in a breath. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Dorothy and Pauline took turns hugging her and lavishing praise. Good thing Hannah wasn’t a stand-offish sort who shunned body contact.
“You never change one little bit,” Dorothy said. “You have the Brown-family skin. We Brown gals don’t show our ages.”
“Till we hit about seventy-five,” Mae added. “Then it’s downhill all the way.”
Dorothy checked her lipstick in a compact mirror. “Speak for yourself, Mae. I have friends who believe I’ve had work done, on account of my unlined face.”
Toby offered one of two upholstered chairs. “Sit down Hannah and tell us all about yourself, the kids. Your cousins all said to tell you hello. They’re busy with family and work; they couldn’t come down in the middle of the week. But we’d love for you and Norman and the kids to come up. You could bring Mae up for a couple of weeks, and we’d bring her back. We’ve got a big house right on a little lake with plenty of room.”
Hannah fondly remembered summer vacations spent with her Uncle Toby and Aunt Pauline in Macon, Georgia. Toby and Pauline’s house hosted a constant frenzy of activity with four girls and three boys at various levels of maturity. When she visited, Hannah nestled into the midst of bunk-bed space and shared bathrooms. Aunt Dorothy, Mae’s younger sister, lived in Pennsylvania. Though her visits to the South were infrequent, Hannah adored the sweet-natured woman with a soft, bosomy embrace and features similar to her mother’s.