The Night the Lights Went Out

by Karen White

  At the Costco there was quite the scuffle between two women fighting over the last twelve-foot tree (in a box—how convenient!). A Costco employee was making a valiant effort to referee, but I think it was obvious to all spectators that those two women were willing to fight to the death and that blood would be spilled if he got too close.

  I missed the outcome of the battle because I was distracted by a group of women nearby hovering over an enormous pallet of boxes filled with cotton athletic socks at the unbelievable price of ten for five dollars. I didn’t need athletic socks, but even I gave them a closer inspection, because the price was just too good to ignore.

  That’s when I heard the words “gala committee” and my ears perked up. There is no better source of scandal, drama, hysterics, and hurt feelings than a gala committee. And occasionally they even manage to throw a pretty darn good party, too. Apparently, one of the members arrived late to a recent meeting, having mistakenly gone to the house of one of the other women first, saying she believed the meeting was there.

  There was quite a bit of back-and-forth about whether this was a mistake or intentional, as the very good-looking husband was home alone at the time and it took a good thirty minutes for the latecomer to discover her mistake and make it to the actual meeting. I believe in giving someone the benefit of the doubt. The woman is new in town, after all, so I’m inclined to cut her a little slack. Even if she is single and beautiful, which is what I’m thinking is the real reason behind all the tongue wagging. Nothing like single and pretty to get a room full of married women as nervous as a long-tailed cat on a porch full of rocking chairs.

  When I left the store later with my cart full of things I’d had no idea I needed when I entered the store (the prices really are that good!), I stopped again at the thinning display of artificial Christmas trees. There was no blood on the floor, so I imagined the altercation had ended amicably. I stared closely at their nine-foot model and I will admit it looked most lifelike.

  But if I bought it and brought it home, I’d know it wasn’t real. Just like those committee members gossiping about that poor woman. They know, deep in their hearts, the truth of the matter. But sometimes it’s just easier to go with the cheap imitation and ignore reality.

  And that, dear readers, brings me to this week’s Southern saying. When listening to people wag their tongues on a subject they’re not informed about, or judge a person they barely know, just say, “You’d better clean up your own backyard before you start talkin’ trash.”

  Because I would bet money—and I’m not a betting person—that each one of those women has something in their closets they’d rather not air. Everybody does. Especially those who are always eager to cast the first stone.

  • • •

  SUGAR

  Not for the first time, Sugar cursed her own vanity and wished for a cane. Or at least the courage to wear flat shoes with a dress. Not that her heels were that high, but even her inch-high heels made the walk along the drive between her house and Merilee’s more like an exercise in torture. And the nylons simply added insult to injury. But she would rather be turned into a pillar of salt than show up at an Atlanta Woman’s Club meeting without either.

  Apparently, there was more wrong with her car than just a flat tire, and it would take at least a week until she had it back. Merilee had been with her when she’d received the diagnosis from Wade and had offered to take Sugar to today’s meeting. Her offer seemed to have surprised them both. Because that was something that people with a connection did. Something a friend would do.

  Sugar spotted Wade’s truck out front with the tailgate down, meaning he was probably in the middle of a delivery. It distracted her so that she didn’t at first notice Colin sitting on the front steps, staring at something on one of the wooden railings.

  She stopped in front of him. “Good morning, Colin,” she said.

  He didn’t look up. “Good morning, Miss Sugar. Have you ever watched what happens when you put a thumbprint of syrup somewhere and wait for the ants, to see what they’ll do?”

  “I can’t say that I have,” she said, staring dubiously at the steps and wondering if she could manage them without humiliating herself by taking off her shoes.

  “Do you need help up the steps?” he asked.

  He was looking up at her, his wide blue eyes so much like Jimmy’s that for a brief moment he was Jimmy. And he was telling her about a nest he’d found, and how careful he’d been not to touch anything.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice weak. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

  He held out an elbow and she took it, admiring the way he waited for her on each step until she’d reached the top.

  “You’re a real expert on this,” she said. “Have you had a lot of practice?”

  “Not a lot. But when we visit my grandma, I have to help her get out of her chair and stuff like that all the time. She’s not as old as you, but she likes to pretend she is.”

  Sugar made an effort not to smile. “Is this your mother’s mother?”

  Colin nodded. “Uh-huh. She says she’s had a tiring life so it’s hard for her to walk.”

  “Do you visit a lot?”

  Colin shook his head. “No. I think visits make Mom pretty tired, too, so we don’t go too much.”

  “Have you seen the dog lately?”

  “No, ma’am. But I did see a hawk yesterday. I couldn’t tell what kind it was because it was too far away, but it was definitely a hawk.”

  Wade spotted them through the glass on the front door and hurried to open it for them. After kissing Sugar on her cheek, he crossed his arms and gave her a stern look. “You walked in this heat?”

  “I’ve lived in Georgia since long before you were born, young man, and I’m not going to give in to it now. And I have my hat.” She patted the feathered and netted concoction on top of her head. She kept it in a special box wrapped in tissue, bringing it out only for special occasions.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “It’s beautiful enough to keep you from having heatstroke.”

  Merilee appeared from the bedroom hallway. “I thought I was going to pick you up.”

  “I did, too, but you’re late. I don’t want to be late for my meeting. It’s frowned upon at the Atlanta Woman’s Club.”

  Merilee checked her watch. “But I’m not supposed to pick you up for another fifteen minutes.”

  “Exactly. In my day, on time didn’t mean showing up at the last minute. I waited on my front porch for five minutes and you never appeared, so I figured I might as well come here so you don’t have to waste more time by making a stop.”

  Merilee blinked slowly, like a person trying to control her anger, which confused Sugar, because all she was doing was stating a fact. “Well, we have to wait a few more minutes because Heather Blackford is coming to pick up the kids and take them all to the movies. And I have to find my shoes.”

  Sugar’s eyes met Wade’s. “Heather Blackford is coming here?” he asked.

  Merilee lifted her head from where she’d been looking under the couch. “I can meet her outside if it’ll be awkward, Wade. I forgot you two dated.”

  “They more than dated,” Sugar interjected. “They were engaged. Invitations had already been sent out, as I recall. And then she found what she thought was a bigger fish, even though it was obvious to everyone that she was still madly in love with Wade.”

  “Sugar . . . ,” Wade warned.

  “I’m just stating facts. Someone has to. No need for everyone to get upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” Wade said.

  “Neither am I.” Merilee’s cheeks flushed.

  “I’m upset,” Colin piped up helpfully. “We were supposed to go skating, but Lily and Bailey said they didn’t want to break any legs because then they couldn’t be on the cheerleading team.”

  “It’s true,” Lily shout
ed from the hall. She was sitting on the floor with what looked to be a thick album opened on her lap.

  Colin rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t even know if she made the team yet.”

  “Please sit down, Sugar,” Merilee called from the kitchen, apparently still looking for her shoes. “This might take a few minutes.”

  Sugar sat down on the edge of the sofa and waited for Merilee to hobble back into the room with one shoe on before pointedly staring at her watch.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” Wade asked, holding up a strappy low-heeled sandal. “I found it behind a stack of what looks like high school yearbooks.”

  Merilee’s expression changed slightly from harried to wary, her gaze moving from the shoe to the book Lily was looking at.

  “Lily, I thought I told you that we would look at them together. You really need to ask permission before touching someone else’s things.” Merilee took the shoe and the book in one quick movement, shutting it without looking at it. “Sorry.”

  “It’s just a book,” Lily said, her voice wavering. “I didn’t know I had to ask permission.”

  Merilee squatted down next to her daughter. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to snap at you. But they are private, and I’m not sure I’m ready to share them with you yet.”

  “I’ve got some scary photos of me in high school, too, so I can’t say I blame you, Merilee.” Wade’s tone was light, but Sugar knew he was lying. The boy had never taken a bad picture in his life. But if he thought his confession would make Merilee open up about why she didn’t want her daughter to look through the yearbooks, they were both disappointed.

  Merilee stood, then gathered the yearbooks into her arms and stepped back to examine Wade’s shelves. “You’ve done a beautiful job, Wade. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. And if it’s all right with you, I’ve brought stuff over to fix the cellar door, too.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  He looked at her closely. “You’ve got . . .” He lifted his hand and moved back a strand of hair. “Your hair was stuck in your lipstick.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Oh. Thanks.”

  The hallway was narrow, leaving little room for her to back up or look away. Sugar watched as Merilee’s eyes widened, as if she was really noticing Wade for the first time. Noticing him as a woman would notice a man. It’s about time, Sugar thought, suddenly remembering Tom and the first time she’d seen him.

  Wade backed away first, allowing Merilee to carry the yearbooks back to her bedroom, which was followed by the sound of a drawer opening, then closing with a solid thud. Letting everyone know exactly where to find them.

  Colin was already running to the door before the rest of them heard the car outside. “I’ll go see who it is!” he shouted as he yanked open the door, followed closely by Merilee and Wade.

  Merilee smelled Heather’s perfume before she appeared in the doorway, her halo of golden hair seeming to illuminate the room. She smiled brightly at the small group of people. “Well, if I’d known it was a party, I’d have come sooner and brought a dish.”

  Without waiting to be invited, she stepped forward and enveloped Merilee in an embrace. “Don’t you look charming today, Merilee? I absolutely love your haircut—so flattering.” Straightening, she winked in Wade’s direction. “And your skin is practically glowing. It must be the company.”

  As Merilee stammered incoherently, Wade’s arm made its way to Merilee’s shoulder. “Hello, Heather. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has. You’re looking good, Wade. And so are you, Sugar. You must tell me what vitamins you take, because you never seem to age.” She wisely didn’t approach Sugar for a cheek kiss or hug, most likely owing to the fact that Sugar was doing her best to stare her down with a glare that might have turned some women into ice.

  Heather continued to smile as if nothing bothered her, but Sugar knew she’d seen Wade’s arm. Knew it from the brief flash of those perfect blue eyes.

  “Before I forget,” Heather said to Merilee, “I need you to go ahead and block off next Saturday on your calendar so we can both go shopping for our gala evening gowns.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—,” Merilee began.

  “It’s all settled and I won’t take no for an answer. It will be so much fun. And it will give us the chance to get to know each other better.” She looked down at her watch and then behind Merilee. “Are the kids ready? I don’t want to be late—I want to make sure we get the best seats.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Great! I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to our shopping trip. I’ll text you when the movie’s over. Y’all have fun!” she said, wiggling her fingers.

  A flurry of activity curtailed any argument, and after just a few short minutes, the door closed and the house descended into silence.

  Sugar stood, leaning heavily on the arm of the sofa to push herself upright. “May we go now? There won’t be any of the chicken salad sandwiches left if we don’t hurry. I can’t taste them anymore, but I can still feel the crunch of the pecans on my good teeth.”

  Merilee picked up her purse from the back of a chair and spoke to Wade, carefully avoiding his eyes. “Please lock up when you leave.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “But I’ll probably still be here when you get back.”

  Merilee looked startled, which had clearly been his intention. “I’ll . . . okay,” she said, turning so fast that she nearly bumped into the chair on her way to open the door for Sugar.

  Merilee held open the door of the minivan for Sugar, and then drove down the driveway without speaking, although her jaw was twitching, as if she was thinking about all the things she could have said to Wade but hadn’t. It was her generation, Sugar suspected, raised with computers with backspaces and “delete” buttons that made them believe they always had a second chance to say the right thing.

  “So, what’s this Atlanta Woman’s Club?” Merilee asked suddenly, as if realizing Sugar could ask her about Wade any minute.

  “Well, let’s see,” she said, thoughtful. “It’s an old and venerable Atlanta institution. We’ve been around since 1895 serving our communities in all sorts of philanthropic ways. Wasn’t too popular with the men when it started, but they soon accepted it, knowing these strong and independent women wouldn’t be told no anyway, so they might as well at least pretend to go along with it.”

  “Doesn’t sound like your kind of group at all,” Merilee said, the corner of her mouth twitching.

  “Humph,” Sugar muttered. “It was the AWC who convinced the mayor back in the twenties to buy the land for an airfield—which just happens to now be the busiest airport in the world.”

  “Impressive,” Merilee said, signaling a turn onto Georgia 400, then heading south toward midtown Atlanta.

  “Oh, that’s just one small thing. We also established the Atlanta public kindergarten system and mobile libraries in the area, just to name a few. Not a lot of people know about us because we prefer not to toot our own horns like some other organizations that I will not name.” She pressed her lips together to show Merilee that she meant it, even though she couldn’t quite remember the names of the other organizations anyway.

  “Your husband, Tom—was he supportive of your membership?”

  Sugar looked down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap, and the single gold band on the third finger of her left hand. “He would have been. He died before I became a member.”

  Merilee was silent for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. “You were so young when you were widowed. Did you ever consider remarrying?”

  “Have you?” Sugar shot back.

  Merilee sent her a sharp glance. “It’s been less than a year. To be honest, I still feel as if I’m married.”

  “Humph. Your husband apparently doesn’t.” She pressed her lips together again. �
�Wade is single, you know, and about your age. And not too hard on the eyes, either, just in case you haven’t noticed, although I suspect you probably have. He’s a wonderful craftsman, but you should know that he’s also a very successful developer. Very.”

  Merilee had reddened to the tips of her ears. “I don’t care about that. Being kind and considerate and having a sense of humor is important. And being good with kids. And faithful.”

  Sugar studied Merilee, a soft smile teasing her lips. “Is that what you’d look for in your next husband?”

  “Yes,” Merilee said without pause. “Hypothetically, anyway, since I’m not looking for another husband. But especially the faithful part.” She was silent for a moment. “What about you? What would you look for in a husband if you were to marry again?”

  Sugar pretended to think. “You know what I’d want?” She regarded Merilee over the tops of her glasses. “I’d want a man who could drive at night.”

  The minivan veered out of the lane for a brief moment as Merilee barked with laughter. “I suppose our needs change as we get older.”

  “That they do,” agreed Sugar, feeling the aching place inside her chest again, the place where her heart had once been.

  Merilee plucked a pair of sunglasses from the dashboard and adjusted them on her nose. “So, what was Tom like? And how did you meet?”

  Sugar’s hands tightened in her lap. She never talked about Tom to anyone. Never. Especially not to someone she barely knew. She wanted to ignore the question, to dismiss it as simply an effort to divert a discussion about Merilee’s own life. Except Sugar knew that wasn’t true. Despite all her attempts to keep her new tenant at arm’s length, a tenuous connection had been formed, its foundation loosely based on proximity and loneliness, and a stubbornness to survive a life that wasn’t of their own choosing.