“True,” Granny says.
I was never sure how much money Gram inherited, but we never did act rich. I think it’s because we didn’t know how to.
Chapter 48
Tired of wandering aimlessly, I board the train. The scheduled departure is 12:10. At 12:05, a tall, dark-haired man leaps onto the train, and my pulse instantly quickens. He’s definitely my type. He has a broad build, and his hodgepodge of manly features and jet-black hair ignite my interest.
As he makes his way down the aisle, his arm brushes against my shoulder. He bends down. His words brush the tiny hairs in my ear. I expect an apology, but I hear something entirely different. “Hang in there, baby.”
Pinpricks of excitement travel from head to toe. A brief encounter should not elicit such a reaction. My thoughts turn to sex and desire, the wild beasts that lie in wait within all of us. We journey ahead, but they walk with us. I stop myself from turning around three times. When I give in and turn, he’s gone. I tell myself the encounter means nothing.
As a child, I couldn’t appreciate how different people fulfill specific needs in one another. My Aunt Edna had my two cousins—Michael and James—and she had her mother, sisters, and me. I thought her life was full. Surely she didn’t need any one else.
Stellman’s is the only grocery store in town. Everyone sees Edna on a regular basis, including William Barnett. Neither put their run-in behind them. They glare at one other, each trying to coerce the other into dropping their eyes, every time they meet. It’s a formidable match. An outside force usually decides the victor. Mrs. Teske ends one battle by nearly flinging a cantaloupe at my aunt. “How much is it?” she demands. Another time, Mr. Barnett glowers as he walks. A fallen apple causes him to stumble. Edna laughs like a hyena when his knee smacks the wooden crate.
I see many of their run-ins, because Granny never plans meals. She wakes up and decides today is a macaroni day or a pork chop day. She thinks nothing of sending me to the store daily. I don’t mind, because Auntie Edna grabs penny candies from the display case and fills a bag for me.
Today is a spaghetti day. I have to buy the sauce. I find the store nearly empty. Tracy, the cashier, is on break. She’s puffing on a cigarette in the parking lot. That means Edna is at the register.
William Barnett is the only other customer in the store. He places his purchases on the conveyer belt. I watch from a distance, not wanting to get in the middle of their silent war.
He glares at her over the two-foot belt that separates them. Edna is at a disadvantage since she has to read each price and key each item manually. Not believing in half-hearted efforts, she ignores him. “Isn’t it time you got over it?” she asks when she puts the last item in the bag.
“I’ll never forget what you did to me,” he huffs.
“Good, I wouldn’t want you to. I told you to get over it, not forget it.”
His glower deepens and she holds out her hand. “Twelve dollars and fifteen cents.”
He whips a ten from his wallet and yanks out a pocketful of change. As he counts out the coins, she says, “I gave you what you deserved.”
“No one deserves what you did,” he complains. “I can never look at the garden the same way as I did before your escapade. You ruined everything.”
My aunt smirks. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
William retains traces of his boyish looks. Age hasn’t faded his blonde hair or the liveliness in his brown eyes. However, anger wrings the attractiveness from his face. “I blame you,” he asserts with a nasty sneer.
Edna leans forward. Her face is inches from his. “If you hadn’t allowed your stupid little dog to poop on my sister’s fence, none of it would have happened.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such an unrefined woman.”
“How dare you look down on me. You’re annoyed because you foisted your responsibility on someone else and they refused to take it.”
Mr. Barnett’s eyes widen. I assume in outrage. I’m wrong. He grabs my aunt and pulls her closer. I’m ready to bolt from the store to summon help when he kisses her passionately. She doesn’t push him away. If anything, she brings him closer. I watch in horrified fascination, unable to look away, yet knowing I should.
The bell over the door rings. Mrs. Hume strolls in. I turn to look back at my aunt. She pats her hair into place. Her eyes follow William Barnett as he hurries from the store.
Tracy comes back from break. My aunt leaves the register. She sees Mrs. Hume struggle with a big bag of flour and hurries over to her. “Let me help you with that, dearie.”
Mrs. Hume’s wizened mouth opens so wide, I fear her dentures will fall to the floor.
Humming, Auntie Edna makes her way to the office. I cut her off before she gets there.
“Hi, Marnie. What brings you in?”
“Granny wants some spaghetti sauce.”
Aunt Edna takes my hand. “I’ll help you find it.” We all but skip to the aisle. I avoid looking into her eyes, afraid of what I might see. I’m also afraid of what my eyes might reveal. She hands me the tin. “Do you want to go to the front for some candy?”
“No, thanks, my tummy is a bit off.”
“That’s a first,” Aunt Edna says before walking off.
I pay for the purchase and stumble home.
The next day, Granny wakes up and decides it’s a stew day. She wants fresh chicken. “Can’t you go?” I whine.
She rubs her knee. “I guess I could.”
I take the money from the table. “How much chicken do you want?”
“Two pounds will do.”
William Barnett’s car is in the parking lot. I enter the store, my eyes on the lookout for him. He’s in front of the rows of cereal, his gaze fixed on the register.
Edna walks to the register, and Tracy smiles. Only when my aunt stands behind the register does he throw a box into his cart and advance toward her.
They don’t say a word to one another. The glares are gone. In its place is something that causes my stomach to jump. I see interest. They watch each other as if they never met before.
Chapter 49
Ma and Granny’s voices scamper down the steps of our porch. Their conversation is too lively for the kitchen to contain.
“I just can’t believe it!” Granny shouts.
“It makes no sense,” Ma says.
“What doesn’t make sense?” I ask as I open the fridge for a piece of baloney.
Granny snorts. “Your Aunt Edna is dating.”
“Let me guess, William Barnett,” I say as I grab the baloney and mustard.
“How do you know?” Granny squawks.
The mustard makes a rude noise when I squirt it onto the bread. “I saw them kissing.”
Granny’s eyes are mere slits. “And you never told me?”
“You’re the one who told me to stop tattling.”
“When I said that, I didn’t mean that you were to stop telling me things.”
I cut the sandwich into four pieces. “Tattling is tattling, regardless of who you tell.”
“She’s right, Mom.” Ma turns to me. She leans forward on her elbows. “When did you see them kissing?”
“Months ago,” I reply offhandedly. I was there at the inception. It’s a tasty tidbit that’s worth savoring.
“I guess the relationship isn’t moving as quick as we thought,” Granny says as she pinches a square of my sandwich.
I gulp a square and grab another. “How quick is it moving?”
“They’re talking marriage.”
“Marriage, that’s silly.”
Silly or not, the next week, they decide to get married right away. Ma volunteers our living room since it’s big and the wedding will be small.
Granny looks at the sprawling room and decides that it needs sprucing. “I’m going to call Ben Cook to paint.”
Ma, who doesn’t like change, doesn’t try to talk her out of it. The white walls look like teeth that need a good b
rushing. Granny finds Ben’s number. I hear her bullying him. “You have to come. Edna is getting married. Next month won’t do. Are your other clients getting married in two weeks?”
Two days later, Ben glows as he examines the wallpaper he just hung. Red carnations burst in brilliant splendour from the walls.
Granny’s smile is bigger than Ben’s. I lean in to her. “I thought you were going to paint.”
“The smell of paint lingers. It would make the food taste funny.” Granny holds her brown purse tightly. “Ben is bringing me to the store. I should be back within the hour.”
“Where are you going?”
“Sears has a sale on rugs.” Her toe digs at the old carpet. “It’s high time we put those flowers to rest. Besides, they clash with the walls. I’m going to get one of those new shag rugs. A brown one will go nicely with the background of the paper. It’ll make the room look swanky.”
They come back with the rug. Ben rolls it out. Granny looks at the newly papered walls and the brown shag rug, and her eyes harden when they land on the couch. “Ben, can you take me out again?”
They return three hours later. Ben has his son Adam with him. They unload a brown vinyl couch, two matching barrel-swivel chairs, a heavy wooden coffee table, two end tables, and two lamps. It takes them an hour to put everything in place and twenty minutes to throw our old furniture into the back of Ben’s rickety truck.
“Aren’t you going to miss the old chair?” I ask.
“No, it overstayed its welcome. It’s time to have something modern.”
Granny sits on the porch waiting for Ma. As soon as Ma reaches the door, Granny grabs her arm. “Cover your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Ma covers her eyes, and Granny leads her into the living room. “Okay, uncover them!” Granny shouts.
Ma’s hands fall from her eyes and her mouth drops open. “Oh my, it’s like something from a magazine.” Her hand brushes against the brown vinyl. “It’s so smooth,” she purrs.
She takes off her shoes and runs across the shaggy carpet as giggles erupt in a flood of pleasure. “It’s so soft. It tickles my toes.”
She plops into one of the matching barrel chairs. “It feels like a hug,” she says. The chair swirls around and around as she takes in the newfound glory of the room. Black wrought-iron lamps stand tall and proud. Crystals bob off their loops in prisms of colour. Ma’s gaze focuses on our heavenly lamps and then jumps to the cherry coffee tables. “I don’t know what to say, Mom. My heart is racing.”
“Just tell me you like what I’ve done to the room.”
“I don’t like it—I love it,” Ma says as she continues to spin round and round.
Granny swallows deeply and turns away. “I’ll make us some iced tea.”
We barely set our glasses down when Ma, Granny, and I attack the house. We delve into corners and reach high up. “It’s a good excuse to get things in order,” Granny says as she tackles the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
“Aren’t you overdoing things? I ask when she arranges the medicine by colour.
“No, people are curious, my dear. You never know where they’ll poke their noses.”
Throughout the week, she runs to the store to replace things that have worn out without notice. She chucks the wobbly old flower stand into the garbage and flings faded bathroom and tea towels into the ragbag.
She has a list of chores. Jobs spill into each other, and the list keeps getting longer. Each night, I crawl into bed exhausted, and I barely scrape the last cornflake out of the cereal bowl before we begin again.
“I’ll wash the windows from the inside, and you tackle them from the outside.”
I groan. “You said we were going to decorate the house today.”
“We are, but we have to have everything spick and span first. You don’t decorate over dirt.”
“We’ve been working like fiends. When will it be clean enough to get to the good stuff?”
“If you hurry up, it’ll be soon enough.”
We wash the windows together, each of us pointing to streaks and blaming the other.
Only when they gleam does she allow me back inside.
My hands are black from the ink of the newspapers, and the strong ammonia smell of the Bon Ami lingers. I head to the sink in the kitchen. Boxes of tissues clutter the counter. Granny fusses with them and puts them in groups. I grab a box and notice that the tissues are pink. “I’m not blowing my nose with this.”
“It’s not for blowing your nose. It’s for making flowers.” We spend the morning folding, tying, and separating the tissues to make plump dahlias.
My back is stiff, but Granny refuses to take a break, and I don’t have the guts to tell her I’d appreciate a rest.
“Get the ladder, Marnie, and we’ll hang streamers from the ceiling.”
I climb the ladder, and she barks orders.
At the end of the day, flowers line the banister, streamers fall from the ceiling in soft waves, and silver bells sparkle in the sunlight. I flop into a chair.
“I can’t believe the wedding is tomorrow.” Granny grabs a rake and combs our shag carpet. “Don’t walk on it,” she warns.
She needn’t worry. I couldn’t heave myself from the chair even if I wanted to.
Chapter 50
The night before the wedding, Edna bursts through the door. She dashes to the kitchen and puts the water on for tea. “I can’t stay too long,” she says before she even sits down. “I have a lot to do.”
“You must be nervous,” Granny says as she makes her way to the table with a bowl of grapes. “I remember the night before I married your father. I was so anxious, I could barely sleep.”
“My situation is different. I’m older, and I’ve been married before.” Edna tilts her head. “I’d say I’m more eager than anxious. I can’t wait for the honeymoon to begin. Bill knows a guy who books trips. One of his clients cancelled at the last minute, and they didn’t have insurance, so Ted—that’s the name of the guy—arranged for us to buy a Hawaiian vacation for next to nothing. I’ve never been anywhere exotic, so I can’t wait.”
“I’m sure Hawaii will be breathtaking,” Ma says, “but don’t forget, wear sunscreen. With your fair skin, you’ll burn like the dickens if you don’t.”
“Don’t be silly. It’ll make me all greasy.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Did you arrange everything with the priest?” Granny asks.
Edna leans forward and smiles. “The service will be short and sweet,” she says with a giggle. “Father Lowry told me he was booked up, so I talked him into fitting us in, with the understanding that it won’t be a full ceremony.” She grabs a grape and pops it into her mouth. “That suits both Bill and me just fine. Oh, I almost forgot. I better get the boys’ bags.” She turns to Ma and Granny. “Thank you for keeping them for two weeks. We both appreciate it.”
“We enjoy having them,” Ma says to her retreating back.
The kettle whistles, but Edna is off before we can even prepare the tea.
“I think she’s nervous,” Ma says.
“Or incredibly eager,” Granny says as she grabs our cups.
“I don’t even want a tea,” Ma says.
“Neither do I,” Granny agrees. They look at me, and I shake my head.
The wedding is small. William Barnett invites a handful of friends and his dog Daisy. Edna invites the family, her boss, Tracey, and her best friend Shirley.
On the day of the wedding, William Barnett walks toward our house wearing a spiffy powder-blue polyester suit. Daisy has a blue ribbon tied around her neck. She stops and poops on the bottom slat of the fence.
“Bad girl,” William says.
If he would’ve done that in the first place, we wouldn’t all be dressed up today. I’m wearing a new flowered mini skirt. Its tightness makes it difficult to bend. I open the door. “Leave it, since it’s your wedding day. I’ll clean it.”
He grabs the bag from my hand when I make my way to the fence. “My dog, my responsibility.”
My aunt arrives an hour before the wedding begins. “Where’s Bill?” she asks as she tugs at my arm.
“He’s in the kitchen.”
“Keep him there. I don’t want him to see me before the ceremony.” Her hand touches her helmet of freshly sprayed hair. “Is it still in place?”
A typhoon couldn’t budge the pile of hair on top of her head. She looks tall and indestructible. Edna chatters as she makes her way up the stairs. Her nervousness clashes with her everyday self. Ma and Fran follow, barely able to get a word in edgewise.
“Help me get dressed, my hands are trembling!” she yelps when they reach Ma’s bedroom. The door locks the three sisters in preparation. I hear giggles, but I don’t intrude.
Ma and Fran come down ten minutes before the ceremony begins. Granny has already greeted the guests, so they take the time to mingle.
Once everyone takes their positions, Ma hurries to our piano and starts the wedding march. When the first note sounds, Edna takes her first step down the staircase. I don’t know if it’s the dainty flowers of the dress, or perhaps it’s the soft, powder-blue background, but Edna appears softer as it swishes around her ankles. A wreath of baby’s breath encircles her fair-haired curls. She stands beside William, and they vow to love each other forever.
After the ceremony, my cousins, Michael and James, wrap William in a bear hug.
“Careful you don’t break my ribs,” he teases as he closes his eyes and hugs them back. Edna looks away. Uncle Frank hands her his handkerchief to wipe her tears.
The tight cluster James, Mike, and William make confuses me. Just months ago, both of my cousins agreed with Auntie Edna and called Bill a toad.
I guess toads do turn into princes when you kiss them.
Mr. Stellman leans on his cane, wishes the bride and groom luck and happiness, and then makes his way to our kitchen. He values the personal pride that Edna takes as manager of his store. Providing food is a fitting gift from a grocer. Auntie Fran’s nose was out of joint, but she understood how Edna couldn’t refuse such a present.
Chickens & Hens Page 19