by Anne George
That reminded me of Meg. "Did you know Meg Bryan?" I asked.
"Sure. I knew Meg real well. Terrific genealogist. Was she a friend of yours?"
"She was up here for my niece's wedding when she died."
"That was really a shock, wasn't it? I never thought of Meg as suicidal." Cassie Murphy turned left and pointed toward some shelves. "Here are Montgomery's census records, birth and death records, and land transactions. The dates are on the side, and they're in chronological order. My recommendation would be to start with the census records. They're easy and tell you exactly when the family members first arrived there. You can narrow down the birth and death dates that way, too. Hollowell isn't a common name, so you shouldn't have too much trouble. What was your husband's mother's maiden name?"
"Haley. My daughter's named for her." · "That should be a fairly easy one, too." Cassie took down a book of census records dated 1900. "Let's see what we find here."
I followed her out to a table, where she opened the book. "You know," I said, "seeing you as a librarian is just wonderful. You always did love books."
"Oh, I don't work here. I'm a professional genealogist. I'm here doing some research, and saw you when you came in." She smiled. "I started out in
computers, but got sidetracked onto genealogy. It's a wide-open field. Interesting."
"Meg Bryan said it was a dog-eat-dog business."
"It can be." She ran her finger down the index. "Here," she said. "Here's a Noah Hollowell. Your husband's grandfather?"
"Yes." I looked where Cassie was pointing.
"Okay," she said. "Get out your pencil and paper. You've started."
Three hours later when I quit for the day, my aching shoulders told me the advantage of working on the computers. Or even the microfiche disks. Lifting those heavy records was hard work. But I had the marriage date of Fred's grandparents, when they had bought the house that still stood on West Jeff Davis Avenue in Montgomery, knew that they had paid $1400 for it. I also had the birth dates of their children and the death date of a son who lived to be eighteen months old.
If my shoulders hadn't been hurting, I don't think I would have quit when I did. One piece of information made you want another. Sister and I had discovered that fact when we happened on the Tree family while we were waiting for Meg at the downtown library. And today's research was even more interesting. My children carried these genes. They would be intertwined with mine from now on.
Awesome thought. I pushed back my chair, stretched, rubbed my shoulders, and started out. At the first table, I noticed a familiar figure poring over a book: Camille Atchison, the blonde who had called Meg a bitch at the wedding reception. Maybe now that Meg was gone, she could find a way to circumvent the bad-apple ancestor who was causing her problems.
Mrs Hollowell? I hope you found some useful information." Cassie Murphy was standing at the front desk, elegant, cool in her green dress, talking to bride-to-be Emily.
"I did. Thank-you, Cassie. And it was wonderful seeing you."
"It was nice seeing you, too. And if you really get interested in doing research and need some help, I'd be happy to help you. Here, here's my card."
"Thanks. I could get hooked," I admitted. I was halfway to my car before I looked at the card. cassie murphy, it read, the family tree, with an address on Eighteenth Street and two phone numbers. I'll be damned, I thought. Cassie worked with Georgiana Peach.
There was a message from Haley on my telephone when I got home. She and Philip were coming for supper and bringing Chinese. If it wasn't all right, call her.
I had no problem with that. I wanted to see more of this man who, obviously, was seeing a lot of our daughter.
There was also a message from Mary Alice asking me to call her.
"I thought you were mad at me," I said when she answered.
"I am. That has nothing to do with this. I think I found some of Meg's backup disks."
"You did? Where?"
"In the glove compartment of my car. Isn't that strange?"
"You're sure they're Meg's?"
"How would I know, Mouse? I just know they're computer disks and they sure aren't mine."
"But why would she put them in your glove compartment?"
"Hell, Patricia Anne. All I know is I needed a Kleenex and figured there were some in the glove compartment. When I opened it, three little blue disks fell out that say Sony Micro floppy disk Double-sided. Okay? And I don't believe the disk fairy left them there."
"You don't have to be so smart aleck." I thought for a minute. "That really is weird, isn't it? Leaving them in your glove compartment. Reckon why she did that?"
"So we would find them?"
"I guess so." Somewhere in the back of my mind, faint alarm bells were sounding. "Are you by yourself?"
"Sure. Why?"
"Because those disks could be important. They could be the reason Meg was killed. Why don't you call Bo Mitchell and tell her about them?"
"Lord, Patricia Anne, you're such an alarmist. I'm not about to call the police to come get these disks. I would like to know what's on them, though." Mary Alice paused. "Probably just a bunch of that genealogy stuff we couldn't make heads or tails of." Mary Alice paused again. "We have got to become computer literate, you know it? We could take those classes at Jeff State for old people. Don't cost a dime. We could sign up for the summer right now, and by the fall we could be on-line. You know? Getting e-mail."
While she was rattling, I was thinking. "Listen," I said, "I've got an idea. Haley is coming over tonight and bringing Philip Nachman. She said he worked on
some family history and used a computer. Maybe he could help us."
"What are you having for supper?"
"They're bringing Chinese. Let me check and see if it's okay with Haley if we ask him to bring his computer. She might have other plans for after supper. I'll call you back." I started to hang up. "Sister?"
"What?"
"Don't let anybody know you have those disks."
"Good Lord, Mouse!"
"I mean it!"
"Okay! And tell Haley I want almond chicken."
I hung up and called Haley. She answered on the first ring, and I explained to her about the disks.
"Sure, Mama," she said. "I'm sure he'd like to help. Let me check, though."
In a moment she called back. "He said fine. Are the disks IBM or Apple?"
"They're Sony." I was pleased that I had remembered this bit of information.
"I mean what kind of computer were they formatted for?"
"It makes a difference?"
"I'll tell Philip you don't know. I think he works mainly on a Macintosh. My little one here is an IBM. We'll bring both of them."
I thanked her and hung up. Sister was right. We were going to have to become computer literate.
Woofer was waiting for me. I put several dog treats in my pocket and went to take him for his walk. As we got back, Fred was pulling into the driveway. I could tell by the grin on his face that he had good news.
"The Atlanta girls came through with a great order," he announced, patting Woofer and leaning over
to kiss me. "They said, Top, this is because you're cute as a button. Tell your wife we think so.' "
"They did not." I kissed him back happily. "But I'm sure they thought it."
He reached back into the car and brought out a box of Godiva chocolates. "Pour vous."
"Chocolates! And French with a South Alabama accent! I can't resist."
"I know. Put your canine up, woman. I'll be waiting."
And I did. And he was.
.We were the picture of decorum, though, by the time Haley and Philip arrived.
"Mama!" Haley called down the hall. "We're here."
"Come on back." I was setting the table in the breakfast nook, and Fred was outside filling up the bird feeders.
They came into the kitchen, preceded by the wonderful smell of Chinese takeout from the large sack Haley was carrying.
"Hello, Mrs. Hollowell." Philip Nachman held a notebook computer in each hand.
"Hello, Philip. Why don't you just put those on the coffee table in the den?"
"Sure."
Philip had on khaki pants and a navy and khaki striped knit shirt. The casual clothes made him look younger than he had at the wedding. But there was more salt in his hair than pepper, and the knit shirt showed the beginnings of a belly.
Haley put the sack of food on the kitchen counter, tapped on the window, and waved to her father. She was wearing a red jumpsuit that made her waist look incredibly tiny.
"There's beer and wine in the refrigerator," I said.
"Philip? You want a beer?" she called.
"That would be great."
"There's wine if you'd rather."
"Beer."
Haley reached into the cabinet, got a couple of glasses, and poured two beers. I watched her in amazement. This was my daughter who, despite my protests, has drunk from a can all her life. She put pretzels onto a plate (God forbid that Philip eat out of a bag!), put the glasses and plate on a tray, and carried them into the den.
Fred came in the back door, reached in the refrigerator, and got a can of beer. I handed him a glass. "Don't ask," I said.
Philip and Haley were sitting close together on the sofa. Philip jumped up and shook Fred's hand.
"Hear you're an ENT," Fred exclaimed jovially.
"That's right."
"And his office hours are over at 5:00," Haley gave her father a warning look.
"Of course they are, sweetheart." Fred beamed at Philip. "Have a seat, Dr. Nachman."
The back door banged. "I'm here!" Mary Alice called. "Do I have to go back outside and knock?"
"Of course not, Mary Alice." The good day at the office, the greeting when he got home, and Haley's ENT were doing wonders for Fred's disposition. "Come on in."
"Hello, Aunt Sister," both Haley and Philip said as Mary Alice came into the den. The greeting coming from both of them startled me though, of course, Philip would call her "aunt." After all, she had been married to his uncle. I tried to remember how long Sister and Uncle Philip had been married. Ten years?
And wasn't he the one who had the heart attack and dropped dead in the shower? Or was it one of the others? No, it was Philip, because Sister had said he was the neatest man in the world. Right to the end.
I eyed Philip the Second, twenty years Haley's senior with the beginning of a potbelly. Heart problems are genetic.
"Hello, dear children," Mary Alice said, kissing the air toward both Haley and Philip, and handing Philip three blue plastic disks.
"What are those?" Fred said.
"Computer disks that belonged to Meg Bryan, I think," Mary Alice explained. "They were in my glove compartment. Philip's going to read them."
"If I can," he said. He turned to Haley, "They're IBM. We'll have to use your computer."
"I thought you weren't going to get involved in this," Fred said to me.
"She's not." Mary Alice sat down on the sofa beside Philip. "I'm just curious about what's on these disks."
"Well, do you want to eat first, or look at the disks?" I asked.
"This won't take but a minute," Philip said. He handed Haley his beer and moved the plate of pretzels toward Mary Alice, who promptly took a handful. He pulled one of the small computers toward him, reached to the back, and turned it on. The machine groaned and grunted.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing. I'm just waiting on the 'A' prompt." In a moment, he slipped a blue disk into the side of the computer and typed something.
"What are you doing?" Sister asked.
"Just typing 'Directory.' Hmmm."
"What?" Sister asked. Both she and Haley were sitting on the edge of the sofa and eying the screen. I moved around so I could see.
"There are eight files listed. But the disk is almost used up." Philip pointed to the screen, which looked impressive. "There's the auto exec file, and another file named 'Genie' that's a big one."
"She told me she was writing a genealogy program," I said.
"Then this is probably the main program, the one she was writing." Philip ran his hand through his still-abundant hair. "Let's see. There are a couple of ways to do this, but I'm going to do a soft boot and see what happens."
Soft boot. Sister and I nodded as if we knew what he was doing. Philip hit some keys, and a totally new display came up on the screen. "Wow, look at this, y'all. Nice graphics.
By this time, Fred was looking over my shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Well, we're into her program, but I don't have any idea how it works."
"Damn," Mary Alice said. "Does that mean we can't use the disk?"
"It means I'll have to work on it a while," Philip said. "Hand me another disk, Haley."
This time when he slipped the disk into the computer he said, "Okay, this one is different. There are sixty-two files, probably created by a word processor."
"Try WordPerfect," Haley said. "It's on my hard drive."
Again, Philip typed some directions. "You're right. Look, ladies."
The ladies, plus Fred, looked at a letter written to
someone in Richburg, South Carolina, on January 12 requesting a genealogical newsletter.
"Reckon all sixty-two are like this?" I asked.
Philip shrugged. "That's what genealogists do. Dig into every source of material they can find." He picked up the third disk. "Let's look at this one."
A new list came up on the screen. "Okay. All these files have a 'gen' extension. Must have been generated through the Genie program, the one she wrote."
"See what's on them," Mary Alice urged.
"He can't," Haley explained patiently. "He's got to figure out how Genie works."
"You mean we're stuck?"
"We can read the letters," Haley said, smiling.
Philip inserted the first disk into the computer again, and studied it. "Tell you what," he said, "my big computer is an IBM. How about I take this home and see if I can figure it out. I'd like to see what kind of program she's written. And then I can read the 'gen' files."
"And I'll print out the letters and bring each of you a copy of them," Haley said. "You could each read half of them. If Meg put the disk in your glove compartment so you would find it, there may be something important there."
"Your mama's not getting messed up in this," Fred said. "Leave her out."
Philip hit some keys that made what looked like comic book curse words come up on the screen.
"Look at that," Mary Alice said. "My feelings exactly."
Ten
We
e had a very nice supper. I put the cartons of Chinese in the middle of the table, and we passed them around. But we ate with my good Rose Point silver. It matched the beer in the glasses better. I don't think Haley and Philip knew what they were eating. It was nice, but disconcerting.
"Just like his uncle," Mary Alice said as we watched them go down the walk to Philip's car.
"Old," Fred agreed.
"My Philip would have been one of People's Sexiest Men Alive if they had just known about him. Which reminds me." Mary Alice turned to Fred, who was having difficulty absorbing this disturbing information. ""Buddy wants y'all to go to New Orleans with us in his jet this weekend. Actually, just Saturday night for dinner. Only takes an hour. You're not going to believe that plane. The bathroom's the best part about it, I swear. You remember the bathrooms on that plane we went to Europe on, Mouse? On Buddy's plane you have room to turn around."
I said that I did, unfortunately, remember the bathrooms on the plane we went to Europe on. My only
... 138 ...
trip to Europe. With Sister. Chernobyl blew up while we were there. Why was I not surprised?
"And you can sit in the bathroom and use the phone. Buddy says he does that a lot. Would Gala-toire's suit y'all?"
"What?" The sudden jump in locations had confused me.
; "Would you like to eat at Galatoire's? It's still my favorite restaurant in New Orleans. Lord, what they can do to soft-shell crabs. I don't think it matters to Buddy. He's easy to get along with."
Fred agreed that that sounded great. After Sister left, though, he said he hoped Buddy made it until Saturday. "Keep Mary Alice away from him much as you can."
"Not funny," I said. But I laughed anyway. It was wonderful to see Fred in a good humor again.
Sometime during the night, I woke up looking for the Maalox. Almond chicken and shrimp fried rice sat like a chunk of lead in my stomach. So I wouldn't wake Fred, I ended up on the sofa reading, and when I woke up again, it was eight-thirty. An empty cereal bowl in the sink assured me that Fred had had some breakfast. He had also made coffee and left the pot on "warm." I drank a quick cup and went out to get my dog, who was waiting patiently for me.
The rain from a couple of days before had washed the pollen down and made the grass grow. The sound of mowers permeating the neighborhood attested to this fact. The only clouds in the sky were a couple of jet trails, and on the mountain, Vulcan mooned us mightily. Mitzi Phizer, my neighbor, was already out in her yard working with her flowers. , "You need one of these." She pointed to the large straw hat that shaded her face.
"I've got on sunblock. Factor one hundred, or something like that." I leaned over her fence. "What kind of flowers are those?"
"They're peonies, Patricia Anne. Just plain old peonies. I swear, you ought to join my garden club now that you're retired. I can't imagine anybody who lives in the South not knowing a peony when they see one."
"I'm so ashamed." Mitzi and I grinned at each other.
"It meets the third Tuesday. I'm serious."
I shook my head. ' 'Not only do I not know a peony, I can hardly tell a caladium from an elephant ear. They'd kick me out. Spare yourself the humiliation."
"You're probably right. That's scandalous." Mitzi pulled off her hat and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. "It's already hot. Just think about July."
"Won't do to think about." I untangled Woofer's leash from my leg.