Dollar Daze

by Gillespie, Karin

  “Yes, yes, and then—?”

  “And then, your husband banged on my front door. Turns out he’d been spying on me with the Nanny Cam. He wanted to know why I was watching trash TV instead of keeping an eye on his daughter. I don’t know why he was so upset, Mrs. Hollingsworth. Am I expected to stand over Glenda’s crib while she’s napping?”

  “Of course not, Mrs. Pirkle. I am so sorry. I’ll talk to my husband about this incident immediately.”

  “I’m sorry too, Mrs. Hollingsworth.” She paused. “You seem like a fine couple, and your daughter Glenda is precious, but I won’t be treated as if I’m some sort of criminal.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. “What are you saying?”

  Mrs. Pirkle took a deep breath. “I’m saying that you need to make other childcare arrangements, Mrs. Hollingsworth.”

  When Elizabeth got home, the first word out of her mouth as she slammed her car keys down on the coffee table in the den was, “Why?”

  Timothy, who was seated on the couch bottle-feeding Glenda, held up his palm.

  “Before you start in on me, you need to hear my side of the story. I guess you’ve spoken with Mrs. Pirkle?”

  “Yes. She told me what happened.” Elizabeth dropped into the chair across from her husband. “Through her tears.”

  “She was crying?” A pained look crossed Timothy’s face. “I didn’t mean to make her cry. But she did leave Glenda all alone.”

  “While she was taking a nap!”

  “We don’t pay her to watch television while Glenda’s in her care, asleep or otherwise. Did she tell you what show she was watching?”

  Elizabeth propped her feet on the ottoman. “Some talk show.”

  “Not just some talk show.” Timothy lowered his voice to a whisper. “It was Jerry Springer.”

  “So?” Elizabeth threw up her hands. “I admit that’s a crass show but that doesn’t mean—”

  “The show was about the Midget Klu Klux Klan! Tiny little munchkin people in white hoods. Is that the kind of thing you want your daughter exposed to? And what does it say about Mrs. Pirkle?”

  “It says that she’s a voyeur, like ninety-five percent of all Americans,” Elizabeth said, kicking off her high heels. “His show’s like a car wreck; it’s hard to pry your eyes from it. I’ve caught a couple of Jerry Springer programs myself. Does that mean I’m an unfit mother?”

  “No,” Timothy said softly.

  “And speaking of voyeurs, how could you secretly film her?” Elizabeth rubbed her hand over her forehead. “What were you thinking?”

  “Maybe I overreacted,” Timothy said. He patted Glenda’s back to burp her. “I just want the best for our daughter.”

  “Here. Let me have her,” Elizabeth said. “I haven’t seen her for a few hours.”

  Timothy got up from the couch and placed Glenda on Elizabeth’s lap.

  “Hi, sweetie. How’s Mama’s little girl?” Elizabeth cooed softly to her sleepy-eyed daughter. “Did you miss me today? Well, don’t you worry. Mommy will be here from now on.”

  Timothy knelt beside his wife. “What do you mean by that?”

  “What do you think I mean? I quit my job.” Elizabeth gave her husband a sharp glance. “Mrs. Pirkle refuses to watch Glenda anymore, and I don’t have any other childcare alternatives. My career at Hollingsworth Paper Cups was over before it even began.”

  Timothy turned pale. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.”

  “You are not. Don’t even pretend that you are. You hoped this would happen.”

  “Not like this. I swear.” He swallowed. “How can I make it up to you?”

  “You can’t,” she snapped. “What you have done today, Timothy Hollingsworth, is completely unforgivable.”

  Nineteen

  The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.

  ~ Sign outside a divorce lawyer’s office

  “It’s a nice day for a white wedding gown,” Attalee lip-synched to the Billy Idol song playing on the tape deck in Mrs. Tobias’s car.

  “Could you turn that down just a tad?” Mrs. Tobias shouted to Attalee over the din.

  “Sorry.” Attalee snapped off the music and ejected the cassette. “Just trying to get in the mood for wedding planning.”

  Mrs. Tobias steered her Caddie into a shopping center off Washington Road in Augusta. “Here it is. Wedding Warehouse.” She stared at the massive boxy building. “Are you sure you want to shop in this place? It looks like a Home Depot.”

  “That’s because it used to be a Home Depot.” Attalee unbuckled her seat belt. “Their slogan is ‘all your nuptial needs under one roof.’”

  The two women got out of the car and strolled across a parking lot the size of a football field. When they reached the entrance the double glass doors of the store swooshed open, and a male greeter in a black plastic top hat and bow tie handed them both a sales flier.

  “Welcome to Wedding Warehouse,” he chirped. “A reminder, ladies. There’s a boutonnière bonanza in the florist department. Order ten boutonnières and your next two are absolutely free.”

  “Thank you,” Attalee said to the greeter. She glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. “Let me take a look at the map on the back of this flier. I’d like to go to the wedding-dress aisle first.”

  The song “I’m Getting Married in the Morning” was being piped in through the store’s speakers. A forklift zoomed by carrying boxes of plastic champagne flutes.

  “I’m not so sure about this concept,” Mrs. Tobias said, following Attalee.

  “I’m with you, gal,” Attalee said. “All this bridal stuff in one place. It’s almost too darn romantic. Ah, here we are. Wedding dresses. A sea of white loveliness.”

  Attalee tugged on the skirt of a satin monstrosity hanging on one of the many racks. “I like this one, but the sleeves need to be puffier, and the train needs to be longer.”

  “Ahem, Attalee,” Mrs. Tobias said. “Those dresses are suitable for first weddings.” She sorted through several of the gowns and withdrew one from the rack. “Look at this. A lovely tea-length dress in antique beige.”

  Attalee stared at the garment in Mrs. Tobias’s hand. “Where’s the train and the seed pearls and the long white veil? Plus, are you color-blind, Mrs. Tobias? That thing ain’t even white.”

  “Attalee, you have five children, twelve grandchildren, and nineteen great-grandchildren. And you’re eighty-six.”

  Attalee planted her hands on her hips. “Your point is?”

  Mrs. Tobias shook her head. “I don’t even know why you asked me to come along.”

  “This one is right pretty,” Attalee said, pulling a lacy gown from the rack. “Oops. My mistake. It’s a maternity wedding gown. See? It’s got a built-in tummy panel.”

  “Things have certainly changed since my day,” Mrs. Tobias said with a shake of her head.

  Attalee tried on several wedding gowns, modeling them all for Mrs. Tobias. She finally settled on one that made her look like an oversized, sequined marshmallow.

  “Now, about the bridesmaids’ dresses,” she said.

  “Oh, Attalee, aren’t we all a little long-in-the-tooth for that?” Mrs. Tobias said.

  “No. If you want a proper wedding, you gotta have bridesmaids,” Attalee said with a pout.

  They sorted through several different styles of dresses. Attalee finally selected a capped-sleeve, bow-studded gown in iridescent eggplant.

  “This dress is so fancy y’all might steal some of my glory,” she said.

  “What’s next on the list?” a fatigued Mrs. Tobias asked.

  Attalee methodically made her way through the store, ordering all manner of items for her upcoming nuptials. From the personalized champagne glasses (with tiny stuffed bears clinging to the side) to a blinking garter belt with matching “Kiss me” thong underwea
r, Attalee’s wedding purchases went from bad to worse on the tacky scale.

  After sorting through a selection of tuxedos (Attalee remarked she was leaning toward the baby blue to match Dooley’s eyes), Mrs. Tobias felt completely shopped out.

  “Attalee, I’m swaying in my shoes,” she said. “Could we possibly save the rest for another day?”

  “I’m feeling kind of meager myself,” Attalee said with a yawn. “Let’s make tracks.”

  They left the store to a recording of the Dixie Cups singing “Chapel of Love.”

  “Thanks so much for lending a hand, Mrs. Tobias,” Attalee said as they reached the sidewalk outside. “I’m going to tell everyone you were my wedding coordinator.”

  “No, please.” Mrs. Tobias touched Attalee’s sleeve. “I don’t want anyone making a fuss over me.”

  “Gracie!” Someone was waving at her from several shops down.

  “Rusty?” Mrs. Tobias said, recognizing her beau as he walked toward her. She noticed Attalee looking at her with a naughty gleam in her eye, and her voice immediately assumed a formal tone.

  “Mr. Williams. How are you today?”

  “Fine,” said Rusty, shooting her a puzzled look due to her use of his surname. “I was next door at the Pet Palace. They got some filthy ducts in that building. Lots of dog and cat hair.”

  Mrs. Tobias had never seen Rusty in his work clothes before. He was wearing a blue shirt with “Duct Doctor” embroidered in red thread on the pocket. Crescent-shaped sweat marks seeped from underneath his arms, and his fingernails were dark with grime.

  “Hi, Attalee,” Rusty said. “I ran into Dooley yesterday afternoon. I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “Thank you kindly,” Attalee said. “I done picked out my dress and everything.”

  “Good for you,” Rusty said. “By the way, Gracie, I left a message on your machine. I may be a half-hour late for our date tonight. Hope that won’t inconvenience you too much.”

  “Not at all,” Mrs. Tobias said.

  “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He glanced at his watch. “Gotta run. I’m late for my next job. See you, ladies.”

  After he hurried off to his truck, Attalee hooted. “So Rusty is your new fellow. I knew y’all were perfect for each other.”

  Mrs. Tobias sighed. “Attalee, we’re just friends. And I’d appreciate it if we didn’t discuss this at the Bottom Dollar Emporium with the others. I’m just not ready yet.”

  “Mum’s the word,” Attalee said with a wink. “But, regarding the ‘friend’ part, I didn’t take any chemistry classes in school, but I know it when I see it. You two ‘friends’ have enough of it to power a nuclear reactor.”

  “Pish-posh. You have a vivid imagination.” Mrs. Tobias waved her off. “Now where did I park my car?

  As they searched for her Caddie, Mrs. Tobias couldn’t blink away the image of Rusty in his work shirt. She’d always known he was a laborer, but actually seeing him garbed in blue-collar attire had proved to be more unsettling than she’d expected.

  Snob. The bitter word floated up from her subconscious.

  She’d never regarded herself as an elitist before, despite an upbringing by an extremely pretentious mother.

  NOKD. Not our kind, darling. That’s how her late mother would dismiss Rusty and his Duct Doctor shirt. She wouldn’t bother to take into account his humor, integrity, and sensitivity. Trouble was, when Mrs. Tobias saw Rusty in his work clothes, for a brief moment, it had blotted out all of his good qualities.

  Was it possible that she was more like her mother than she thought?

  Twenty

  Wanted: Meaningful Overnight Relationship

  ~ Graffiti in the men’s room in the Tuff Luck Tavern

  “Dang, Mavis. That was some good eating.” Brew crumpled his napkin and placed it on top of his dinner plate. “I could live off that feast for two weeks.”

  “Glad you liked it.” Mavis cleared a stack of dishes from the table and took them into the kitchen, just off her small dining area. “I thought it might be nice to take an after-dinner walk. It’s not as cold as usual, and there’s a fall moon.”

  “Maybe,” Brew said. “I was just wondering, have you gotten any more RSVPs from our classmates?”

  “I got several in the post yesterday. I made a list for you. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yeah.” Brew leaned back in his chair. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all.” Mavis wiped her hands on a plaid dishtowel that hung on her refrigerator door. Then she withdrew the list from the drawer beneath her telephone and went into the dining room to give it to Brew.

  He muttered to himself as he read the list. “These are all the people coming so far, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  He tapped the paper with his index finger. “And you were able to find everyone except—?”

  “Dolores Montgomery.”

  “Who?”

  “Remember, I said she used to be treasurer of the stamp-collecting club. Cat-eye glasses, a bit stout—?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember now.” Brew folded the list and stuck it in his shirt pocket. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to call some of those people who haven’t responded. Just to make sure their invitations didn’t get lost in the mail.”

  “I’ll do it,” Mavis said. “Now, Brew, I was thinking about the decorations for the gym and the refreshments. I have some ideas—”

  “That’s my department, sugar. I’ve gotten it all taken care of.” He unfolded his sizeable frame from his chair. “We’re a team, remember?” He eyed her as she stood in the door frame leading into the kitchen. “How did I ever overlook a pretty filly like you? I must have been blind in high school.”

  Mavis relished the compliment for a moment but quickly remembered that Brew’s use of flattery was often a prelude to his departure for the evening.

  “You aren’t running off just yet, are you?” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “How about a quick stroll around the block?”

  Brew shook his head with regret. “Much as I hate to leave your company, darling, I gotta go. Big day tomorrow. Got a crew of painters coming in at seven sharp.”

  “Wait one minute. There was something I wanted to discuss...” She stared down at the hooked rug underneath her feet. “That is... I was wondering about. . .” She glanced up quickly. “Birdie.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What about Birdie?”

  ‘There’s been some talk around town. Is it true that you’ve been seeing...” Mavis avoided Brew’s eyes, and her voice grew softer. “Both of us?”

  “Are you jealous, m’lady?” Brew’s lip curled in amusement.

  “Of course not, I just—”

  “You tell that pretty, little green-eyed monster of yours to take a powder,” Brew said. “There’s not a thing between Birdie and me.”

  “It’s just that... people have seen your car outside her house, and—”

  “I know.” Brew shrugged on his sports coat. “Call me old-fashioned. I just can’t ignore a damsel in distress.”

  “Birdie’s been in distress?”

  “You could say that. You know how things around a house get out of sorts. Faucets drip. Toilets run.”

  “I see.” Mavis also knew Birdie was perfectly capable of making her own simple home repairs. In fact, she prided herself on her handiness with tools, and even owned a soldering iron.

  “She calls me over there, and I just can’t say no,” Brew said. He touched her chin with one finger. “But you’re my special gal. I thought you knew that, Mavis.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Does a hound dog have fleas?” Brew chuckled. “See you on Thursday.”

  Her heart fluttered as she watched Brew walk out the door. I’m such a lucky woman, she thought. Mav
is could hardly blame Birdie for trying to steal Brew away from her. Instead of feeling angry toward her friend, she felt a twinge of sympathy. Poor dear Birdie. Reduced to out-and-out chicanery in an attempt to win Brew’s affections. How lonely she must feel!

  The next day after work, Mavis stopped by the Winn-Dixie to shop for her upcoming dinner date with Brew. The weatherman had warned that Cayboo Creek could expect a hard frost, so she thought a hearty bowl of chili and a skilletful of corn-bread would be just what the doctor ordered. She turned her buggy down the baking aisle to get a bag of cornmeal when she saw Birdie reaching for the White Lily Flour.

  “Hi, Birdie,” Mavis said. “Long time no see.”

  Birdie gasped and immediately backed away.

  “Wait, Birdie,” Mavis said, following her. She figured Birdie was fleeing because she was ashamed of her recent actions. “Can’t we patch things up? Does it have to be like this between us?”

  Birdie paused beside the cake mixes. “Yes. It does, Mavis. You’ve made that choice.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ha!” Birdie cocked her hip against her buggy. “You understand perfectly. I’m referring to this latest business you’ve been pulling with Brew. I know what you’ve been up to.”

  “I figured you’d hear sooner or later. And I’m sorry. But, after all, I did see Brew first, and—”

  “Mavis, this isn’t primary school. You can’t call dibs on a man and think he’s yours.”

  “I know that, but—”

  Birdie shook a finger at her. “And if you have any hopes of saving our friendship, you must stop this nonsense with Brew immediately.”

  Mavis opened her mouth but no words came out. “It’s not fair of you to ask me that,” she said, finally recovering her voice. “I’m sorry, Birdie. But that’s the one thing I won’t do.”