The Fixer Upper

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “He makes me happy too,” I said. “He’s not like any other man I’ve known before. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and honest and good. You’ve raised a fine man, Carter Berryhill.”

  “His mother did all the heavy lifting,” Carter said. “I was busy building my law practice, but she made sure I did the things a father is supposed to do with his son, Boy Scouts, sports, hunting, that kind of thing. Sarah was really the one who made him into the man he is today.”

  “I have a feeling you did it together,” I said.

  The music ended, and Carter eased me off the dance floor and back in the direction of our table. “I’m sorry you never met Sarah,” he told me. “I think she’d have liked you. And I know she would have loved knowing our son had found somebody as special as you.”

  I turned and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Now you’re going to make me cry.”

  “I’d be happier if I could make you stay,” he told me.

  60

  After a Sunday taken up with driving Ella Kate to church and Sunday school, and afterward, working her way through an entire paperback sudoku book, Lynda had obviously gotten bored quickly with Guthrie and my life there. When I got downstairs Monday, at seven A.M., she was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a tumbler of wheatgrass, dressed in a chic hot pink pants suit. Her suitcases were sitting by the door.

  “Going somewhere?” I asked, trying not to look too hopeful.

  “Home,” she said, blotting her lips with a paper napkin. “Leonard called last night. He’s missing me something awful, poor lamb. So I called the airline, and had my ticket changed. My flight leaves Atlanta at noon.”

  “But…I thought you two were…on the skids?”

  “No! What gave you that idea?”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. With Lynda gone, I was going to miss having my coffee made for me in the morning. But I was confident I would be able to bear up under the burden.

  “Well, you did. Sort of. I mean, Saturday night you said he’s no fun since ‘ED’ came along, and I guess I assumed—”

  “Leonard and I are soul mates,” Lynda said earnestly. “You don’t give up the kind of connection we have just because of something physical, like sex.” She looked over the rim of her glass at me. “Someday, Dempsey, I hope you’ll experience the kind of awesome, life-changing relationship Leonard and I have forged together. The sex part is just a little bump in the road right now. We’ll get past that, because on a higher plane, spiritually I mean, we are perfectly in tune.”

  “That’s great, Mom,” I said. “You had me kind of worried Saturday night, with all that heavy flirting you were doing. I guess at your age, sex is kind of beside the point anyway.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “My age? My age? My lord, what kind of junk do you young girls get into your heads these days? Sex is never beside the point! Sex is the point! I told Leonard last night that he either goes and gets the little blue pill, or I replace him with something less complicated—like, say, something that takes triple-A batteries.”

  “Lynda!”

  “He got the message. That’s why I’m leaving today instead of the end of the week. Although I do hate to leave you in the lurch.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said quickly. “I’ll miss you, but Carter feels sure that after my meeting today with Alex Hodder, the feds will be more than ready to cut me some slack. So you see—there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  She got up and rinsed out her tumbler, then put it in the dish drain. “I wish I believed that, precious.”

  “Why wouldn’t you believe it? The feds even signed an agreement, promising not to prosecute me.”

  “It’s not your legal predicament that has me worried anymore,” she said. “Now that I’ve met Carter Berryhill, I feel confident you’re in the best possible hands. It’s your life that has me worried.”

  “What’s wrong with my life?”

  She pressed her lips together tightly. “You accused me of trying to make you over. I’m trying hard not to.”

  “So, it’s not just about my clothes? Or this house?”

  “Oh, Dempsey,” Lynda said. “This is going to sound so California flaky to you, I know. But I don’t care. I just don’t want you to wait till too late to find your bliss.”

  “My bliss?” She was right. It did sound flaky.

  “The thing that makes you absolutely certain you are in the right place, doing the absolute right thing, and with the right person beside you. Look at me! I was nearly fifty when I found my art, my real talent. My niche in life. And then Leonard and I found each other, and it all came together. I spent all that time searching, spinning my wheels, desperately unhappy. I couldn’t raise you. Not properly. I was still raising myself all that time. I blamed your father for years, but really, it wasn’t him. Well, okay, some of it was him—he can be such a rigid, unbending, cold—”

  “Mom,” I warned.

  “Right. He is your father. Anyway, I don’t want that for you, sweetheart.”

  She looked around the kitchen, got up, and ran her fingertips across the top of the island Bobby had built for me. “This room has such a nice vibration, Dempsey. It feels like it has a soul. Does it feel that way to you?”

  “Actually, it does,” I admitted. “It still needs a lot of work. But I love knowing that I laid the tile, and I stripped the floor, and I sanded the cabinets.”

  She nodded. “You put your heart into this room. You’ve put it into the house too, haven’t you? I couldn’t see that when I first got here. All I could see was the enormous job you had ahead of you. I was afraid this old white elephant of your father’s would suck the life out of you. My therapist says I’ve done a lot of work getting past my past, but I guess the truth is, I still resent Mitch. And his relationship with you.”

  I put my arms around her neck. “Aww, Mom. That’s sweet. But our relationship isn’t all that great right now. Anyway, he’s not you. He’s not my mom. He can’t fix my hair, or make me a gorgeous necklace, or restyle my parlor.”

  “Even when you don’t want it restyled,” she added.

  “I wanted it. I just didn’t know I wanted it,” I told her.

  Thump. Slide. Thump. Slide. Ella Kate and her walker were slowly making their way down the hallway. Shorty ran ahead of her, his nails clicking on the worn floorboards. I got down his bin of dog food and filled his bowl, which he attacked as soon as he entered the room.

  “I’m gonna miss that old girl,” Lynda said. “I know she’s been a pain in the neck for you, but she’s got spunk. The universe should have worn her completely down by now, but it hasn’t.”

  “More like the other way around,” I said wryly, bending down to scratch Shorty’s ears.

  “I’m proud of you, Dempsey,” Lynda said quickly. “For stepping in and taking care of her.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

  “Everybody’s up mighty early around here,” Ella Kate said, pushing her walker into the kitchen.

  “Lynda’s decided it’s time to go home,” I told the old lady. “I tried to get her to change her mind—”

  “No you didn’t,” Lynda said. “You’re just as glad to have me out of your hair as I am to go.”

  Ella Kate looked from me to Lynda. “You two have a fuss?”

  “Not at all,” Lynda said. “I came because I thought Dempsey needed me. It turns out I needed to see her more than she needed to see me. I was worried about her, but I can see now that she’s made a real life for herself here in Guthrie.”

  “I have?”

  Lynda stood beside Ella Kate and helped ease her into her wooden chair. “Don’t you think she’s worked wonders on this old house, Ella Kate?”

  “I reckon,” Ella Kate said. “You got any coffee left?”

  I fixed her a mug and took it over to the table. She took a sip and nodded her approval. “Your mama makes coffee a lot better’n you do.”

  “She does everything better than me,” I said. “But I’m try
ing to learn from her example.”

  Ella Kate thought about that. She jerked her head in Lynda’s direction. “How many times did you say she’s been married?”

  I gasped, but Lynda threw her head back and gave a belly laugh. “Only twice,” she protested. “I know lots of women who’ve been married more times than that.”

  “You married to this Leonard fella you’re livin’ with?” Ella Kate demanded.

  “Well, no, but we’ve been together for six years,” Lynda said. “That’s longer than I’ve ever been with any man before. It’s my personal best.”

  “Huh,” Ella Kate said, shaking her head. She looked at me. “What about you and that Berryhill boy? You ain’t studying shacking up with him like your mama does, are you?”

  “Ella Kate!” Lynda protested.

  “I knew Sarah Berryhill,” Ella Kate went on, as though she hadn’t heard. “Now that was a fine Christian lady. But once that breast cancer took ahold of her, she was just eat up with it. I believe that’s the biggest funeral I’ve been to around here since Olivia passed. The Berryhill boy’s a lawyer, ain’t he?”

  “His name is Tee,” I put in. “And you know good and well he’s in practice with Carter.”

  “I hear the son is runnin’ the newspaper these days. I reckon he wadn’t too good at lawyerin’. Not as good as his daddy, anyhow.” Ella Kate looked at me plaintively. “You got any eggs and bacon in the house? I b’lieve I got my appetite back this morning.”

  “Tee’s a fine lawyer,” I said, skipping over the subject of breakfast. “But he loves journalism, and he wants to give back to this community. He’s doubled the paper’s circulation since he took over running it, you know.”

  “I don’t take a paper these days, but if I did, it would be the Atlanta paper,” Ella Kate said grandly. “Norbert always took the Atlanta Constitution. He liked to read the sports section. I like the Sunday funnies and Ann Landers. Does your boyfriend’s paper have Ann Landers?”

  “Ann Landers is dead, you know,” Lynda said, apropos of nothing. She went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs. She set the eggs down on the counter and grimaced as she brought out a package of bacon.

  “Here,” I said, taking the offending meat from her. “I’ll fix her breakfast. I’m not trying to chase you off, but I guess you better get on the road before you get tied up in Atlanta traffic.”

  “You’re right,” Lynda said. She planted a kiss on my forehead. “Good-bye, sweetheart. Call me tonight and let me know how your meeting turned out.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  “Be strong,” she said, hugging me. “I’m going to visualize you strong. And that snake in the grass Hodder, I’m visualizing him in prison.

  “And you!” Lynda said, wheeling around to face Ella Kate. “You take care of yourself, will you? No more joyriding around in stolen cars. And look after my girl too, will you?”

  “Huh!” Ella Kate said, trying to suppress a pleased grin. “You comin’ back for the wedding?”

  “Wedding?” My mother and I said it in unison.

  “Wedding,” Ella Kate said firmly. “I ain’t fixin’ to live under the same roof with anybody livin’ in sin. It ain’t right. I don’t care if her mama does it that way. That’s California. But this is Guthrie, Georgia. In Guthrie, we go to church and stand up in front of God and pledge our troth. And then we have cake and punch in the church parlor. And cheese straws. Gotta have cheese straws.”

  “Is there going to be a wedding?” Lynda asked.

  “He hasn’t asked me,” I said, blushing.

  “He’s fixin’ to,” Ella Kate volunteered. “The boy’s goofy over her. Anybody can see it.”

  “Well then,” Lynda said, picking up a suitcase in each hand. “That settles it. I’ll definitely be back for the wedding. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even bring Leonard along. Wouldn’t that just set your father’s teeth on edge?”

  “I’m not even engaged,” I said weakly. But nobody was listening.

  61

  As soon as my mother zoomed away from the curb in her rented Escalade, I started wondering how I would fill the hours until it was time to leave for the New Macedonia Full Gospel Church of the Brethren and my come-to-Jesus meeting with Alex Hodder.

  When the senior-services bus arrived to take Ella Kate to physical therapy, I waved her off and promised to take Shorty for a walk. It was a beautiful morning, full of the promise of spring. The dogwoods were in full bloom, and every house on the street seemed to flaunt frills of azaleas at the edge of bright green lawns. Shorty was happy to be out, he trotted along, barked at every squirrel and stray cat and baptized every fire hydrant and shrub on the block.

  But with every step, the what-ifs haunted me. What if Alex didn’t come? What if he did come? What if he didn’t bring the money? What if something happened—with the hidden cameras, or me? What if, after all that had happened, I somehow managed to screw the whole thing up?

  Back from the walk, I decided to fight the sense of dread settling over me by keeping busy. I did the breakfast dishes, and wandered around the house making a list of all the projects I still needed to complete. The bathrooms were at the top of the list. Much as I loved the big pedestal sinks and roomy old bathtubs, no amount of scrubbing was going to remove decades-old chips and rust stains from their porcelain surfaces. We needed proper showers, new tile, new fixtures, new plumbing. It wouldn’t be cheap.

  As I tallied up the potential cost of the work, I started to think about all the questions Carter and my mother had peppered me with. What would I do after the whole Hoddergate mess was settled? If it was settled.

  Carter seemed to think the feds would be happy to let me walk away from any charges, considering my cooperation with the FBI. Could I go back to Washington? Would anybody hire me as a lobbyist, after my name had been so publicly dragged through the mud? More to the point, and to Lynda’s question—did I even want to go back to my old life?

  Up until now, I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on the “what next” scenarios. It was all I could do to get through the moment I was in, without wondering about the moments still to come.

  My mother seemed to think I’d made a life for myself in Guthrie. That thought hadn’t occurred to me. True, I’d found unexpected joy in fixing up Birdsong. Unexpected joy too with Tee Berryhill. Was this the bliss Lynda had talked about?

  I didn’t have time to ponder the questions. The doorbell rang, and when I got to the door, I saw Carter and Tee standing there, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

  “Well, hello,” I said, swinging the door open. “You two seem pretty pleased with yourselves.”

  Tee leaned in and kissed me—full on the lips. “We’ve got a surprise for you,” he said.

  “Goody,” I said. “Lead on. I just love surprises.”

  Carter turned and gestured toward the curb. “There she is,” he said.

  And there she was. The Catfish. Her Georgia Bulldog red paint gleamed in the warm morning sunlight. Her chrome had been buffed to a high sheen. Her crumpled roof and busted-out front and rear windshields had miraculously been mended. All the dents and scratches and indignities she’d suffered from her brush with disaster were but a distant memory. As far as I was concerned, she was showroom perfection. She had new white-sidewall tires. She was a smoking-hot vision of vintage loveliness.

  “Oh my God,” I shrieked, covering my mouth.

  I walked out to the curb and circled her, running my fingers over the new paint job and the smoothed-out body. Tee and Carter stood on the lawn, enjoying the spectacle I was making. “This is so awesome,” I said, blinking back tears. Yes, I was crying over a car. Maybe I’d become a bona fide Southerner. The next thing you knew, I’d be frying chicken and drinking sweet tea. It was insidious.

  “You like it?” Tee asked. I threw my arms around his neck and demonstrated just how grateful I was.

  “I believe she does,” Carter said, chuckling.

  “She’s beautiful,
” I said, releasing Tee from the neck lock. “How on earth did you get her looking like this? I bet Uncle Norbert himself wouldn’t recognize her.”

  “Shawn is a very talented and hard-working individual,” Carter said. “As it happens, he used to do work for your great-uncle Norbert. He was very familiar with the Catfish.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “I was just about to call you and ask if I could borrow a car for my meeting today.”

  “The timing of your meeting figured heavily in my urging the mechanic to put a rush on things,” Carter said. “He only called an hour ago to tell me she was ready.”

  Tee ran his hand over the front fender. “Pretty sweet, huh? You wanna take her for a spin?”

  I bit my lip. “Wait a second. This must have cost a lot of money. All the body work, the windshields, the paint job. And those are new tires. What’s all this going to cost?”

  “There is no bill,” Tee insisted. “No cash changed hands. Shawn’s girlfriend needed a lawyer, we needed a car fixed. It all worked out.”

  “It’s a zero balance,” Carter said solemnly. He held up his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Then I owe you the money you would have gotten in legal fees, plus my own legal fees,” I persisted. “I want a bill, Carter. That’s the only way I’ll take the Catfish back. That was our deal, remember? The pink slip for legal fees.”

  “C’mon, Dempsey,” Tee said, tugging at my hand. “Will you let it go, please? It’s a gift. From us to you.”

  I shook my head stubbornly. “My mother taught me some manners. Candy or flowers or books are proper gifts from a gentleman. She never said anything about cars.”

  Carter chuckled. “She’s got us there, son. Your mother told you the same thing when you started dating.” He rolled his eyes. “When he was fourteen, young Romeo here bought his lady friend a pair of blue jeans for Valentine’s Day. Sarah was horrified.”

  “Got ’em at the Belk’s in the Macon mall,” Tee admitted. “I spent a month’s worth of my lawn-mowing money on ’em, and then Mama made me take ’em back.”