Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day

by Ann B. Ross

  “A shower?” she said. “You’re inviting me to a shower?” Like that was the tackiest thing she’d ever heard. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Yes,” I said, honey dripping with each word, “I was.”

  “I think we’ll be getting back to Raleigh,” Junior said, holding his head with both hands. “Tonight.”

  “Good,” I said. “The sooner the better.” Then remembering my dreams of a Hallmark holiday, I said, “But we do hope you’ll come back for Christmas.”

  Chapter 40

  Mr. Sitton came out of Mr. Howard’s room into the center hall on his way to the front door, wanting to be as far away, I guessed, from this picture of family happiness as he could get. As he passed the drawing room door, he stopped and raised his eyebrows at me.

  Leaving Valerie and Junior in their stunned state, I hurried over to him, pleased that I was the one he wanted to see. He recognized my new position, and soon everybody else would, too.

  “Howard seems a little confused tonight,” he told me, his voice lowered for my ears only. “I usually can make out a few words, at least the gist of what he’s talking about. But I couldn’t understand him well enough tonight to proceed on any instructions he might be giving me. Has he been like this lately?”

  “He’s tired, Mr. Sitton,” I said. “And no wonder with all the lifestyle changes he’s gone through today. To say nothing of worrying about Junior, and putting up with that daughter-in-law of his. On top of the fact that even on a normal day, it gets harder and harder for him to talk clear enough to be understood as the day wears on. Mornings are the best time for him. He’ll be rested then, and just as bright as a new penny.”

  “Well, then, that explains it,” Mr. Sitton said. “I was a little worried in there with him. He just didn’t seem to have enough energy to discuss any detailed legal matters. Murmured a few words, but they were too garbled for me to feel comfortable proceeding with.”

  I nodded, knowing how feeble Mr. Howard could sound. “Why don’t I bring him to your office in the morning? You’ll be amazed at how much better he’ll be.”

  We both endured a moment of silence as the thought of Mr. Howard’s wedding night and his resulting revitalization flashed in our minds. At least, I thought that was Mr. Sitton’s thinking, since his face got red again.

  “I mean,” I said, “that mornings are the best time for him.”

  Mr. Sitton cleared his throat. “I could come here, if that would be easier.”

  “Either way. I usually like to get him out sometime during the day. Riding around, seeing people, and getting some fresh air, that’s good for him. But why don’t we wait and see what he wants to do?”

  He nodded once and reached for the doorknob. “Good. Call me as early as you want and let me know. One way or the other, I’ll meet with him in the morning and get started immediately on whatever changes he wants to make.”

  • • •

  When he left, I stood in the hall a few minutes, not knowing exactly what to do. Valerie and Junior were still in the drawing room, talking in low voices with only one or two sharp words between them. I sure didn’t want to go back in there and get into it again with them.

  Emmett was busy. I heard the door from the dining room to the kitchen swinging to and fro, and figured he didn’t need any disruption as he was getting ready for that blamed lingerie shower, which, by that time, I could’ve crammed down Lurline’s throat. And in another hour or so, she and whoever she’d rounded up on such short notice would be knocking on the door.

  I was tired, I realized. It’s not every day that you have your dreams come true, then have to defend them to the likes of Junior and Valerie. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed somewhere. The problem was, I didn’t know where that bed was.

  And there was my new husband already in one, but zonked even worse than I was.

  I’d go sit with him, I decided. And that’s what I did, tiptoeing past the drawing room and into the back hall. With the blinds closed, Mr. Howard’s room was lit by a small lamp across the room from his hospital bed. He lay there, looking more dead than alive, which was how he mostly looked until the life came back into his eyes. Then he looked like a different man.

  Settling back in the easy chair by Mr. Howard’s bed, I let the quietness of the room wash over me, thinking how different it was from a trailer home. I was used to the constant noise from car motors, motorcycles revving up, children playing, and neighbors yelling at each other that filtered in through the thin metal walls of my single-wide. But here in this big, strong house, I couldn’t even hear Emmett in the kitchen, much less Valerie and Junior in the drawing room. All you had to do in this house was close a door and you had peace and quiet.

  Except for Mr. Howard’s soft snoring, which didn’t come anywhere near the racket of a trailer park.

  Even as the quiet of the room made me want to lean back and drift off to sleep, my mind kept going over and over the legal information that Mr. Sitton had given Junior and Valerie. I didn’t understand just what my future situation would be, moneywise, but it had come through loud and clear that Mr. Howard had set up his finances at some earlier point when he hadn’t foreseen a new wife on the horizon. A little oversight that had tickled Valerie no end. But that could be changed, if I’d understood Mr. Sitton right. For now, though, there was plenty coming in, enough to take care of what we needed and wanted. So I’d worry about any changing that had to be done later on when I had Mr. Howard in better shape.

  Just having enough for daily needs meant being rich to me. Lurline once said that she really didn’t want to be rich. She just wanted enough to buy whatever she wanted. That’s the way I felt, too.

  It didn’t much matter that Mr. Howard had arranged for all his money to go to this and that charity, and to Junior. I intended for him to live a long and happy life with plenty of time to do some rearranging, if he had a mind to. And if he didn’t, why, I’d worry about that when the time came. Besides, I’d always been a good saver, so there was no reason I couldn’t put a little away for a rainy day out of whatever he was getting now, which Mr. Sitton had said was more than enough to get by on. I was used to clipping coupons and sending off for rebates and shopping the sales, so I couldn’t see that I was going to have any problems with money.

  I rubbed my hand across my face, trying to stay awake since it wouldn’t be long before Lurline and whoever she’d invited came trooping in. As I did, I saw Mr. Howard’s folded wheelchair leaning against the wall. I started smiling, remembering how Skip had used it to hide his lottery ticket.

  That rascal, I hadn’t expected him to be smart enough to pick such a good hiding place. He couldn’t’ve found a better one. Who would’ve thought to look through an old man’s wheelchair?

  Then, frowning at it, as I remembered that he’d written “check it out,” I eased up out of the chair and tiptoed over to the wheelchair. It was one of those lightweight folding kind, made of metal rods with leather seat and back, not one of the motorized ones since Mr. Howard wasn’t exactly confined to it. He didn’t need to have a motor so he could operate it himself, because he always had Emmett or me to push him wherever he wanted to go.

  I picked it up, turned it around, looking to see if I could find where Skip had hidden his ticket. There were leather pockets on both sides of the seat for carrying one thing or another. I ran my hand through both and found only a little packet of Kleenex, a wadded-up used one that I threw into the trash, a stick of Juicy Fruit gum, some cellophane-wrapped peppermint candy, and Mr. Howard’s wallet, which I left right where it was.

  There was no other place that I could see where Skip could’ve hidden his ticket, so I guessed he’d just stuck it in one of the pockets. Probably the one on the left side, since Mr. Howard couldn’t use his left hand to rummage around with, if Skip had even thought that through. Who knows, though? Skip had proved to be smarter than I’d given him credi
t for, although some people just have dumb luck, and Skip had always had his share of that.

  As I refolded the wheelchair, I noticed that one of the rubber handgrips on the back of the chair was loose. I twisted it to tighten it up, but it didn’t want to fit as tightly as the other one. I pulled it off to get it started again, and saw what looked like a wad of foil stuck down in it.

  Using one prong of a pair of scissors from Mr. Howard’s dresser to pry out the foil wad, I realized that it was a wrapper from a stick of chewing gum. When I unfolded it, I could barely make out the tiny little pencil scribbles on the white side. It was hard to read, but as I finally made out the writing, I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. I had to put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t wake Mr. Howard.

  Then, as Skip’s words sunk in, I felt tears well up in my eyes. Juicy Fruit aroma from the wrapper made the words even sweeter:

  Etta Mae Wiggins Taggert Connard

  IOU $1000000 soon as I get it.

  Watch your bank account.

  Love, Skip

  I had to sit down. That Skip, he’d really do it, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind, unless he lost it before he got to the bank. It was too much to take in, and I almost shook Mr. Howard awake to tell him about it. I didn’t, though, because Skip’s promises were about like Skip himself. Well meant, but not something you’d want to depend on entirely. Oh, I knew he’d do whatever he said he’d do unless his circumstances changed, and changing circumstances for Skip could mean anything from scratching the eight ball to needing an overhaul on his motorcycle.

  But maybe I was misjudging him. I’d wait and see if my bank account got real healthy all of a sudden. Of course, Skip hadn’t even considered taxes, since I doubted he’d ever paid any, much less made plans for April fifteenth ahead of time. That lottery ticket could put him in jail if the IRS people took out after him, which they’d been known to do to other big winners. So if he did give me any of his winnings, it’d be up to me to put some aside to pay the taxes on his share as well as mine. A million dollars wouldn’t go far after that. Still, it was the thought that counted with any gift, no matter how small or how little you considered the obligations of it.

  I put the Juicy Fruit wrapper in my pocket for safekeeping. It probably didn’t mean a thing, but you never know, do you?

  Chapter 41

  I drew a chair up close to Mr. Howard’s bed and, reaching through the bedrail, patted his hand. He didn’t stir, so I made myself comfortable, and before I knew it, I was catching up on all the sleep I’d been missing, but not before sending a lot of good thoughts over the miles to Skip.

  Wherever he was, I hoped he was safe and happy, and that I’d seen the last of him and his troubles.

  When Emmett tapped on the door, I jumped up, wondering how much time I’d lost.

  “Yo’ guests be here in a minute, Miss Etta,” he said through the closed door.

  After checking on Mr. Howard and stuffing a pillow behind his back when he stirred, I made some quick repairs to my face and hair, and left the room.

  Hurrying out, I thought of changing clothes for the party, but decided that if what I had on was good enough for my first wedded day, it was good enough for my first wedding shower. Even though I was somewhat worse for the wear by that time, I didn’t much care. Anybody who was as determined as Lurline would have to put up with me the way I was.

  Going into the kitchen from the hall, I felt even worse dressed when I saw Emmett in dark pants and a starched white jacket with a black bow tie. He looked a whole lot better than I did.

  “Valerie and Junior upstairs?” I whispered.

  “They gone,” he said. “Packed up and got gone a little bit ago. Left Mr. Junior’s car, ’cause he not feel like drivin’. He wanted to take his’n, since it bigger, but Miss Valerie, she say she not about to leave her car anywhere ’round this place, an’ she say Mr. Junior, he have to suck it up and ride to Raleigh with her or stay here an’ suffer humil’ation. House been real quiet ever since they pulled out.”

  “Well, not for long, I’m afraid,” I said. “I swear, Emmett, I could do without a party tonight. Too much has gone on for me to be in a party mood.”

  Emmett grinned. “I know what’ll get you in the party mood. I’m mixin’ up my special punch for that big bowl in yonder, an’ they be plenty more to come. Mr. Howard, he not able to do much partyin’, but ain’t no reason you can’t cut loose a little with yo’ lady friends. Go look at the table, an’ see you like what I done.”

  I pushed through the swinging door, and nearly lost my breath when I saw the long dining table. Emmett had outdone himself. At least, I’d never seen anything like it.

  The table was covered with a white cloth that had cutout designs all over it. Two tall candlesticks with lots of branches with candles stuck in them stood on it, one at each end, and silver trays and dishes and odd-looking silver tools of all kinds were arranged along the sides. A beautiful floral centerpiece of pink roses and other kinds of blooms I didn’t know the names of brightened up the whole room. It had to’ve come from Sadie’s Floral Shop, though, because I did recognize a few of the blue-dyed carnations she was famous for.

  “Emmett,” I breathed, “it’s the most beautiful table I’ve ever seen. I’ve never had anything like this done for me, and I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t even know what all these things are, much less what they’re for.”

  “Well, I walk you ’round an’ tell you,” Emmett said. And starting at one end, he pointed to a large silver tray with all kinds of pots on it. “This here yo’ silver service. See, the tall one’s the coffee pot and the squatty one’s yo’ teapot. Here’s yo’ sugar bowl an’ yo’ creamer, an’ here’s yo’ lemon wedges an’ the lemon fork, which some ladies like better’n cream.”

  “Oh, my, it’s so pretty,” I said, admiring the tiny fork with its splayed tines. “What about the tea bags, Emmett? Where do those go after you dunk ’em up and down? Just on the saucer?”

  “No’m,” Emmett said, cutting his eyes at me. “We don’t use no tea bags. I brew it in the kitchen, like the coffee.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now, over here we have yo’ cups an’ saucers, an’ spoons for stirrin’. An’ then the crab salat’s on this round tray settin’ in a bed of lettuce. Then we got a congealed salat, an’ over there on that side, we got yo’ sammich trays. I made some fresh cucumber sammiches, an’ there’s some ham salat ones, an’ lots of cream cheese. Cream cheese with nuts, cream cheese with pineapple, cream cheese with first one thing an’ another. Then there’s the fruit tray with a poppy-seed dressin’ dip. An’ then, you got yo’ cheese straws. Lemme tell you, Miss Etta, when you have ladies come in, you got to have yo’ cheese straws.”

  “It’s like a dream,” I said. “And I’ll remember about the cheese straws.”

  “Well, us’lly I like to put out ham biscuits, too, but I didn’t have enough time to do all that bakin’. But, down here at this end, you got yo’ silver punch bowl an’ its ladle on a silver tray, with little silver punch cups settin’ around ready for fillin’. An’ here’s the silver pitcher for takin’ ’round the room when the ladies don’t want to walk back to the punch bowl. I take care of that for you, don’t you worry ’bout any of it.”

  He moved around the table, straightening things just so, and said, “Now, I didn’t put out no knives, just spoons for the bev’rages and forks for the salats. One thing, Miss Etta, you have to remember, when ladies gonna be eatin’ on they knees, they don’t need no extra silverware to boggle in one hand while they try to eat with the other ’un. Most times, I jus’ fix up some of that finger food that don’t need no silverware at all. But sometime when you want to have a set-down dinner for a lot of ladies, I’ll get out all them card tables from the basement an’ set ’em up in the hall an’ the drawin’ room. What with the dining table, we can ’ccommodate ’bout thirty-two at a set-down.�
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  “Thirty-two.” I marveled at the thought. I didn’t even know thirty-two people I would want to invite. Then, “Those are the biggest candlesticks I’ve ever seen, Emmett. Did Mrs. Connard ever light all the candles?”

  “Oh, we light ’em all the time. You s’posed to light yo’ candles, even if you have ’em out just for decoratin’, you just burn the wick a little an’ not let the wax run down. That way they look like they used an’ not fresh from the sto’. Now, Miss Etta, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, them ain’t candlesticks. Candlesticks only got one candle on ’em. These kind with the five branches on ’em, they called candelabrums.”

  I nodded my head, learning so much that I’d never known before, never having had either the single or the multiple kind. The only kind I’d had was a wine bottle with different colors of wax dripped all over it.

  “It’s all a picture, Emmett, like in a movie.”

  “You get used to it quick enough. Now, what I’d do if I was you, Miss Etta, is greet yo’ guests at the do’ an’ bring ’em in the drawin’ room. I got a tea table set up in there with a ’broidered cloth on it, an’ they can put gif’s on it. Then you let ’em come in here an’ help they plates. They can go back in the drawin’ room an’ eat off they knees. While they do that, I be goin’ round with a pitcher of punch refillin’ they cups. Now, after they eat an’ I pick up the plates, that’s when you open yo’ gif’s. An’ I’ll be clearing the big table an’ puttin’ out the dessert, little petty fours I got the bak’ry to send us. But all that time, I keep the liquid refreshments comin’. If we time it jus’ right, yo’ party go without a hitch.”

  “Is that the way Mrs. Connard—the first Mrs. Connard, I mean—did it?”