A Piggly Wiggly Christmas

by Robert Dalby

  “And when Petey called me up a few days ago and asked me to come out to Evening Shadows to discuss his Square Deal, I was on board in a heartbeat. That has to make me a genuine Second Creeker now, doesn’t it?”

  He leaned over and gave her an affectionate peck on the check. “I have to believe it does. Nobody who wasn’t the genuine article would make the commitment you’ve made. You’ve put your money where your mouth is. The way I see it, you’ll end up bein’ the grandest First Lady Second Creek’s ever had. Maybe someday there’ll even be a beautiful bronzed statue of Gaylie Girl Dunbar on The Square.”

  Laurie and Powell’s Christmas open house was fully under way when Mr. Choppy and Gaylie Girl finally dropped by around seven that evening. The visit with Renza had largely been a bust, since Petey and Meta had left earlier to return to his suite at Evening Shadows.

  “They just can’t keep their hands off each other,” Renza had noted, trying her best not to sound judgmental but falling short of the mark. “Of course, I don’t begrudge them their fondness for each other. I just think they might be overdoing it.”

  So it was just Mr. Choppy and Gaylie Girl being entertained by Renza and her tart musings for the better part of an hour in the drawing room of Belford Place. At some point, Gaylie Girl realized one more time that she had better get used to it if Petey and Meta tied the knot as expected. Learning to finesse Renza might not be easy, but it was definitely going to be necessary to keep the peace.

  “Well, I suppose we’ll see you tonight at Laurie’s,” Gaylie Girl had said, when it was more than apparent the three of them had run out of things to say. She had even gotten to her feet to force the issue.

  Renza was looking up from her spiked eggnog with a hint of betrayal in her face. “You’re running off so soon?”

  But Gaylie Girl had been certain she was playing at being obtuse and decided to attempt her first finesse.

  “Hale and I were thinking about taking a little nap ourselves. I was up half the night cooking for the Hempsteads, you know.” And that had done the trick nicely. But not before Gaylie Girl had made a mental note to catch up with Petey and Meta later out at Evening Shadows. After all, they still had presents to exchange.

  Things were quite a bit livelier at Laurie’s, however, as Mr. Choppy and Gaylie Girl cleared a couple of seats for themselves on one of the sofas and settled in with their drinks amid the other Nitwitts and Powell Hampton.

  “You’re just in time,” Laurie said, absentmindedly tinkering with the reindeer antlers that she wore atop her head for every Christmas open house. “We’ve been informed that Myrtis and Euterpe are about to make a momentous announcement.” She gestured toward both women, who were sitting next to each other in a far corner of the room, whispering back and forth and otherwise looking thick as thieves.

  Finally, Myrtis got to her feet and hoisted her cup of eggnog high in the air. “To the success of my new bed-and-breakfast partnership with Euterpe. We have decided to split the financial responsibilities at Evening Shadows, and Euterpe will permanently occupy my Bloody Mary Suite upstairs. I declare here and now that she is not only grand company but also one helluva floor show at the Steinway to boot!”

  The room was immediately abuzz with chatter and cries of “Congratulations!” as the Nitwitts got to their feet and took turns endlessly embracing one another yet again. Somehow Laurie was able to take the floor again and press on. “When did you two decide this? I thought it was against our bylaws to keep secrets as huge as this.”

  “Oh, we kind of fell into it this past week during the afterglow of one of Myrtis’s fabulous dinners,” Euterpe explained. “We’re going to make it legal and official after the first of the year. And, yes, ladies, I will continue to teach you piano lessons as the Mistress of the Scales. We Nitwitts are nothing if not multitaskers.”

  “Nothing will really change, you see,” Myrtis continued. “We’ll still have Sarah with us to keep house and fix all that gourmet food, but we’ll split the upkeep and the profits fifty-fifty. And, yes, I’m giving Euterpe a special discount on the Bloody Mary Suite in perpetuity. In return, she’ll contribute a special musical program every night we have guests. But we aren’t changing the name to Myrtis and Euterpe’s or anything like that.”

  “What about Troy and Simon’s?” Renza offered, barely able to keep a straight face.

  But Myrtis was more than ready for her. “That sounds like a law firm, and you know it. No, it shall remain Evening Shadows as long as both of us are alive and kickin’.”

  It was Powell who spoke up next amid the giggles and titters, raising his voice to be heard and changing the subject abruptly. “Laurie, it’s almost seven-thirty!”

  “Ooh, right,” she said, moving quickly to the center of the room. “Everyone, I have a surprise. We’ve made arrangements with Mrs. Holstrom over at Delta Sunset Village to put in a call on Powell’s cell to Wittsie and her daughter, April, and her granddaughter, Meagan. They’ve been with her all day, and I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Holstrom about how things have gone. She says Wittsie is having another of her better days, probably because her family is there. But I thought we could all pass the phone around and wish her a Merry Christmas. That way, at least, all the Nitwitts could be together again on this very special occasion.”

  Powell then went into action dialing up the number. But not before uttering the phrase that he had come to prize more highly than any other over the course of his distinguished lifetime as a ballroom dance instructor extraordinaire: “The Go-to Guy at your service, ladies!”

  Laughter swept throughout the room, and then everyone quieted down, awaiting the call to go through. Finally, Powell said: “Mrs. Holstrom? Yes, it’s Powell Hampton calling for Miz Wittsie and her family.” There was a pause as Powell held the phone slightly away from his ear. “They’re bringing her over now,” he told the others. Then: “Hello? . . . oh, yes . . . yes, that’s very sweet of you . . . oh, I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” There was a further pause, and then Powell put the phone in his lap and proceeded to explain. “This is Wittsie’s granddaughter, Meagan, on the line right now. All of you ladies remember her from our wedding at the Piggly Wiggly, I’m sure. She says she just wants to tell all of you Nitwitt ladies how much she enjoyed being in the wedding with you last year, and she hopes to be just like you when she grows up.”

  More laughter erupted, along with a “Hello to you, too!” here and there, and then Renza shouted across the room, obviously feeling her Christmas cheer. “Heaven forbid she should grow up to be like us!”

  Powell made a shushing noise and wagged a finger. “Renza, she’ll hear you!”

  Then he picked up the phone again and resumed the conversation. “They all said to tell you hello, and they enjoyed being with you, too.” There was another lapse.

  “Where’s Wittsie?” an impatient Novie wanted to know.

  “She’s coming,” Powell answered. Then he started talking again momentarily. “Miz Wittsie? . . . oh, yes, of course I know who you are . . . right . . . right . . . of course I understand . . . I’ll let everybody know.” Again he put the phone in his lap and addressed the room. “This is April I’m talking to now, Wittsie’s daughter. She says it might be too confusing to put everyone on one after another. It’s been a long day, and she thinks her mother is starting to fade. She suggested that one of you Nitwitts come on and speak for all the others. Is that okay with all of you?” He picked up the phone again. “April, can you hold on just a minute? They’re deciding who to put on.”

  Not surprisingly, Renza was the first to speak up. “Well, if that’s the way it’s got to be, I think it’s obvious who should speak for us.” She aimed her index finger at Laurie with a smirk. “The one with the mind so sharp, she’s got antlers growing out of her scalp. The more things change, the more they stay the same around here.”

  The others nodded or said, “Of course!” or something similar, and Powell again asked April if she would hold the line.


  Laurie took the phone from him and managed a deep breath while collecting her thoughts. There was another short wait and then: “Wittsie? I hear you’ve been having a Merry Christmas, darlin’ . . . it’s me, Laurie . . . yes, I’m over here in Second Creek . . . right, I know you’re over there at Delta Sunset Village . . . well, I’m here at my little cottage with all the other Nitwitts and my husband, Powell, and Mr. Choppy . . . you remember Mr. Choppy, don’t you? . . . that’s right . . . the Piggly Wiggly . . . I know we all used to shop there . . . yes, I know it’s closed down now.”

  Laurie momentarily covered the phone and spoke in a stage whisper. “She seems smart as a whip to me tonight. I have no earthly idea what April was talking about. I guess she was just being cautious.” Then she resumed.

  “Sweetheart, listen. Each of your devoted Nitwitts wanted to say Merry Christmas to you tonight, but we thought things might get a little too hectic and confusing. So I’m going to say Merry Christmas for all of them . . . what? . . . are you sure? . . . oh, that’s funny . . . well, I’ll let them all know.”

  Laurie covered the phone again. “She insists on speaking to all of you. She can’t imagine why we don’t all want to come to the phone. She even said, ‘Cat got their tongues?’ ”

  Renza cackled. “Well, that does it for me. If she can get off a snappy line like that, here I come with my big mouth. Let me speak to her this instant.”

  Renza quickly rose from her seat, and Laurie handed the phone over without hesitation, knowing better than to start an argument.

  “Listen, Wittsie,” Renza began, mincing no words. “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, sweetie. Wish you were here with us. Now, that’s two down and five to go by my calculations.” She held the phone away from her ear. “See? It’s not hard. Which one of you wants to go next?”

  In succession Myrtis, Novie, Euterpe, Denver Lee, and Gaylie Girl all stepped up and said their piece. Every “Merry Christmas!” and the various snippets of sentiment that followed were delivered without a hiccup. But just as Powell was about to wind things up, Mr. Choppy smiled and held out his hand. “I’d like to speak to her, too, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” Powell said, handing the phone over. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear from you.”

  Mr. Choppy began speaking with great affection in his voice. “Miz Wittsie, this is Mr. Choppy Dunbar . . . no, that’s right, I’m not one of the Nitwitts, but I’m married to one of ’em. You know, that especially counts for somethin’ in Second Creek these days. I’m laughin’ now because Powell Hampton is right next to me noddin’ his head and crackin’ a smile . . . that’s right, Powell is the one who’s married to Laurie . . . yes, they were married at my Piggly Wiggly while it was still open. You were even in the wedding, and you and your little Meagan looked mighty pretty. Anyway, Miz Wittsie, I wanted to wish you a very Piggly Wiggly Christmas tonight because the inside buzz is it’s the gold standard of Christmases. You can’t do better than that . . . yes, Miz Wittsie, I know you’ve got your daughter and granddaughter with you tonight . . . I know they love you, we all do . . . well, thank you, ma’am, and I hope God blesses you richly, too . . . good night to you, too.”

  He handed the phone back to Powell, who quickly finished up with April and then snapped the phone shut. “Mission accomplished,” he announced forthrightly, standing up to take a little bow.

  Mr. Choppy’s heartfelt monologue had a powerful calming effect on everyone in the room, and no one could think of anything to say for a while.

  Leave it to Renza, however, to remedy the lull with her customary candidness. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but Wittsie sounded all there to me and a whole lot more tonight. Of course, I’m glad she was having one of her best days on a day as important as this. If you’re going to shine, it might as well be on Christmas. It’s hard to figure out, though. Just when you think Wittsie will fade away, something seems to kick her into another gear. Am I totally off base here?”

  “Oh, I completely agree with you,” Mr. Choppy said. “I feel strongly that Miz Wittsie is bein’ looked after. And I don’t just mean by the staff over there at Delta Sunset Village, or by her family.”

  Renza paused briefly to allow herself a frown but soon pressed on in her inimitable fashion. “By the way, if you don’t mind telling me, what exactly did you mean by a very Piggly Wiggly Christmas? Was that supposed to be a little joke of some kind?”

  “Anything but, Miz Renza. It was just a little somethin’ I verbalized for myself this afternoon as I was thinkin’ about the legacy of the Dunbar family in Second Creek. It’s a strong one, and it’s gonna continue to get even stronger as long as I’m in office with my trusty Gaylie Girl at my side. Oh, and for what it’s worth, I believe Miz Wittsie understood exactly what I meant by that, too.”

  Gaylie Girl could not remember such a pressure-packed Christmas Day in her entire life. Her worries about biting off more than she and Hale could chew had been groundless. They had gone everywhere they were supposed to go, seen everyone they were supposed to see, opened and acknowledged every present they had received, and given out every gift they were supposed to give. In addition to the phone call to Wittsie in the evening, she had found time to call up Amanda and the grandchildren earlier in the day and had wedged in a visit with Petey and Meta out at Evening Shadows to exchange gifts. Now there was nothing left to do but collapse in bed for that fabled long winter’s nap so frequently cited as part of Christmas lore.

  “We did good today,” Gaylie Girl said, sliding down beneath the covers just after eleven o’clock. “It was a lot of work, but this was maybe the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Oh, I’ve had more elaborate ones in Chicago, and certainly more expensive ones in places abroad. There was even one spent out in Santa Fe after Petey and Amanda were off on their own for the first time. I didn’t have to lift a finger in most of those. People waited on me hand and foot. Not today. I’m feeling a good kind of tired right now, and I like it. Let’s do this again next year. Only by then I trust we’ll have a healthy godchild to spoil instead of fretting about him around the clock.”

  Mr. Choppy had just finished fluffing up his pillows and was smiling up at the ceiling with his hands cupped behind his head. He almost looked like a little boy plotting what he wanted to be when he was all grown up. “I like the sound of that. I’ve spent every single Christmas right here in Second Creek, but I know this one meant the most to me. Not only that, but just a few days ago, I was dreadin’ what the New Year would bring. But now I can hardly wait for it to get here so we can get started on The Square Deal.”

  “You and I are going to make history with it, you know.”

  “I know. And if we do a really spectacular job, maybe we’ll both get statues erected in our honor.”

  She pointed her finger at the headboard behind them. “I want mine facing north, so I’ll never forget where I came from.”

  “And I want mine facing south. Because that’s where I’ve always lived, and that’s where I’ll die.”

  “Oh, don’t talk about that right now, Hale. Just give me a kiss, and we’ll see what develops.”

  “An extra little goodie from Santa, maybe?”

  Gaylie Girl played along coyly. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”

  Mr. Choppy’s laugh was full of mischief, and he added a naughty wink. “Well, it occurred to me the other day that a lady like yourself has just about everything she needs in the way of creature comforts.”

  “True enough.”

  “But I also remembered that you couldn’t figure out the secret ingredient in Yolie Payne’s cream of courage soup when she and the Reverend visited us that time, and she wasn’t tellin’ either.”

  Gaylie Girl feigned frustration by pouting her lips. “You know how cooks are.”

  Mr. Choppy leaned over and retrieved a folded piece of paper from the nightstand, handing it to his wife. “Yes, I do. But sometimes a little friendly persuasion works wonders.”

&n
bsp; “You didn’t . . . I mean, she didn’t!” Gaylie Girl exclaimed, unfolding the paper with an expression of utter delight. She scanned the document quickly, taking in a breath of air at the end. “Oh, my goodness! A generous splash or two of cooking sherry! Yolie was right—I never would have guessed. I was so focused in on herbs and spices.”

  “Can’t wait for you to make up a batch. Meanwhile, there’s no reason why we can’t keep things spicy,” Mr. Choppy added, snuggling up to her and giving her the first of several lingering kisses.

  With that, they turned out the lights and put the exclamation point on their very first Piggly Wiggly Christmas together.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Once again, the following cast of characters has made this fourth installment of the Piggly Wiggly series possible: my two state-of-the-art agents, Meg Ruley and Christina Hogrebe of the Jane Rotrosen Agency; my superb editor, Rachel Kahan, of Putnam/Penguin; my personal assistant, William Black, whose Googling skills are exceeded by none; and my large extended Southern family, whose anecdotes and affection have sustained me over the years. May all of you enjoy many more happy holiday seasons!