“What?” I said.
We stopped in front of Miss Odenia’s trailer, the one with the ceramic kittens climbing the shutters and the flower beds and the plaster frog in the birdbath.
She clucked her tongue as we walked to the front door. “I’d better tackle those weeds in the portulaca when it cools off. C’mon in. I have lemonade in the Frigidaire.”
We followed her inside. I gratefully dumped the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and shook my numb fingers to get the circulation stirring again.
“I’ll bring the drinks into the living room,” Miss Odenia told us.
Her living room was nothing like Lynette’s. Old dark wood chairs were covered in faded flower print material. Tables displayed black-and-white photographs in silver frames. But no people, at least not whole people…just hands.
There were framed magazine advertisements of hands touching toasters, holding telephones, flaunting diamond rings. Between the frames, statues of hands wore draped bead necklaces or fancy gloves. Over the sofa hung a gigantic photograph of a hand.
Creeped out, I elbowed Lacy Jane and whispered, “Next time, warn me.”
Lacey Jane’s eyes were practically out on stalks. “I’ve never been in here before either,” she whispered back. “Miz Odenia’s always watched us kids when she was outside working in her yard.”
I stared at a photo of a hand holding a carving knife. “What’s wrong with pictures of kittens?”
“I think it’s neat,” Rudy said. No surprise. His taste was all in his mouth, or else why would he have a crush on Bambi?
“Here we go.” Miss Odenia set a tray of glasses on the coffee table. She had taken off her gloves. I tried to see if her fingertips were sandpapered, like a safecracker’s. “Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. You girls are in sore need of help. I know for a fact Bambi Lovering has entered the pageant. She has a lot of experience. I can teach you how to walk and conduct your interview.”
I drained my glass of lemonade, then said, “What’s the catch?”
“In exchange for pageant lessons,” Miss Odenia said, “I’d like you girls to serve at my card parties on Tuesdays and Fridays. I’m tired of doing all that work myself.”
“Serve?” I lifted one eyebrow. I didn’t like the sound of this.
“Refreshments,” Miss Odenia said.
Handing out cookies at a party didn’t sound too bad. “When do we start?”
“Tomorrow at noon. Wear nice clothes. No shorts or T-shirts.” She looked pointedly at me. “The lesson will be first. My party is from two to four.”
Miss Odenia showed us to the door. Lacey Jane and Rudy burst excitedly outside, but I hung back.
“I’m supposed to babysit Rudy,” I said. “What will I do with him tomorrow?”
“Bring him. He can watch TV in my spare room. Or play in the backyard. You can keep an eye on him.” She paused. “What else is troubling you, Rebel?”
I glanced out where Rudy was spinning himself silly. “Why do you really want to give us these lessons? Like you said, you don’t know me.”
She leaned in closer. Her breath smelled like cinnamon. “No, but I do know Lacey Jane. I’ve watched her grow up. She used to be a happy, sweet child. But after her mama died last winter, that girl’s been nothing but a bundle of sorrow.”
You could have knocked me over with a wisp of dryer lint. Lacey Jane had never breathed a word about her mother being dead! That explained why she didn’t talk about her mother. A pinprick of guilt jabbed my side like a runner’s stitch. I felt sorry for her but I didn’t want to feel too sorry. It wasn’t like we were going to be best friends.
I wondered if I should say anything, and decided right then and there I wouldn’t. Lacey Jane would tell me when she was ready. Besides, I felt uncomfortable talking about dead people. Animals dead for thousands of years, no problem. But people—especially somebody’s mother—well, that was different.
“Balance on the ball of your foot,” Miss Odenia said. “Don’t put your heel down first. I know it feels strange, but it’s the way pageant girls walk. Try it, Lacey Jane.”
Lacey Jane raised up on her toes. “Like this?”
“Not so high.”
Lacey Jane took a few wobbly steps. “I keep wanting to put my heel down.”
“Practice and you’ll get it.” Miss Odenia eyeballed me next. “Okay, Rebel. Before you can walk you need to learn correct posture.”
Me? Hadn’t she seen how Lacey Jane pitched forward like she was dropping off a diving board?
But I sucked my stomach flat to my backbone and stiffened my legs like bed slats. My skirt promptly dropped to the floor in a crumple of denim.
Lacey Jane fell about laughing. “Oh, the judges will love that!”
I yanked my skirt back up. “I didn’t bring any dresses,” I mumbled. “This miniskirt of Lynette’s is the only thing that fits. Sort of.”
“Is that why you were late?” Lacey Jane asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” People didn’t need to know everything about me.
“You could’ve borrowed one of my dresses.” Lacey Jane smoothed her bright yellow sundress. Her barrettes and ankle socks matched, natch.
“Mistakes happen even in pageants,” Miss Odenia told me. “You picked up your skirt without any fuss, which is good. Now, shoulders back and down. Chin up.” She prodded and pulled me into position like a life-size Gumby.
I clutched the counter. “I feel like the Leaning Tower of Pisa!”
“You’re not. You’re actually standing straight for a change. Okay, girls, one at a time, walk for me. Don’t toe out, Rebel. None of that slew-footed business. Make like you’re following an invisible line. Long strides. Lift your legs! Point your fingers down—your fingers want to curl naturally, but that doesn’t look good.”
By the time I pageant-walked from one end of Miss Odenia’s living room and back again three times, I had cramps in my calves. Then Lacey Jane took her turn. She turned her toes in so far that her knees locked.
“Again, only this time, smile. Always smile at the judges. You first, Rebel.”
I remembered everything she told me—chin up, shoulders down and back, balance on balls of feet, follow invisible line, long strides, fingers pointing down. But I tromped on the back of one of my flip-flops and nearly landed on my face.
“Rebel, you can’t wear flip-flops in a pageant.” Miss Odenia checked the clock over the stove. “I’ll teach you pivot turns tomorrow. Now we need to get ready.”
As we fluffed a snowy cloth over the card table and set out hobnail glass luncheon plates, Miss Odenia instructed us to speak politely but only when we’re spoken to, serve plates to the left and clear from the right, and serve ice tea to the right. All that nice-manners stuff got on my nerves.
“I wasn’t raised in a barn, you know.” I glanced out the window to see Rudy, who was supposed to be playing in the backyard, heading for the sewer pipe.
Jerking open the front door, I yelled, “Rudy Parsley, get your scrawny butt back in the yard this instant!”
“What on earth?” complained a woman teetering at the bottom of the cement steps. “I’ve never heard such screeching!”
It was the lady with the Tastee-Freez hair, three colors swirled on her head like a triple twist cone. Bambi Lovering’s mother.
Behind her, two ladies bumped into each other like people in a fire drill. One was decked out in so much costume jewelry, it was a wonder she could stand up. The other had on a flowery pinafore over a white puff-sleeved blouse. Her outfit would have been fine on a nine-year-old, but she had to be pushing fifty.
Miss Odenia hustled me inside. “Go in the kitchen with Lacey Jane and remember what I told you.” Then she told her company to come on in.
They clattered into the little hall, jostling pocketbooks and clucking like hens.
“Law,” said Jewelry Woman. “I like to melted out there.”
“Every bit of the curl fell plumb out of my hair,” Pinafore remarked.<
br />
“Yes, it’s another scorcher. Some ice tea will fix you right up.” Miss Odenia cut her eyes toward me and Lacey Jane.
We poured four glasses and carried them into the living room to the card table. After some backing and filling, Lacey Jane and I figured out how to serve to the right without crashing into each other. Miss Odenia snapped her napkin open in her lap. Our signal to bring in the luncheon plates.
My mouth drooled at the sight of itty-bitty chicken salad and pimento cheese sandwiches in the shape of hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs, wafer-thin slices of buttered date-nut bread, frosty grapes, and tea cakes dusted with confectioner’s sugar.
“Miz Odenia,” I whispered as I set her plate down, “can we have the leftovers?” Lynette hadn’t gone grocery shopping. For lunch, I’d nibbled a few bites of Rudy’s hot dog spaghetti. It was either that or a pine float (glass of water and a toothpick).
“If my guests don’t want seconds,” she murmured. Fat chance. Those ladies ate like a pack of wolverines. They’d have seconds, all right, and probably lick the dishes sitting in the sink.
Lacey Jane served Bambi’s mother with a big smile, but the woman ignored her.
I followed Lacey Jane back into the kitchen and hung over the counter to listen to the ladies gab.
The older woman dressed like a Christmas tree was Viola Sandbanks. She sold Madame Queen costume jewelry. Palmer Sandbanks was her daughter, the famous Palmer who scared the mailman so bad, he stuck the mail in the wrong boxes.
Mimsie Lovering was Bambi’s mother, a fact she wouldn’t let anyone forget for a second. According to her, Bambi was the prettiest, most talented girl on this planet.
Then I saw a dark brown paw snake out from under the tablecloth. I knew the owner of that foot and prayed it hadn’t been splashing in the toilet lately. The paw waved around until its claws snagged the hobnailed edge of Mrs. Lovering’s plate and slowly began to pull. I shut my eyes. I couldn’t bear to watch.
Mrs. Lovering’s scream made my eyes fly open. The plate flipped in her lap, and buttery date-nut bread smeared all over her white dress.
“A rat!” she shrieked, jumping up and scattering the rest of her lunch. Tea cakes, sandwiches, and grapes tumbled on the rug.
The others screamed, too, and hopped up like they were sitting on an anthill.
Doublewide darted out, snatched a club-shaped chicken salad sandwich, and ducked back under the tablecloth. His paw flicked out once more to snick a stray grape.
“What is that?” Viola Sandbanks asked, one hand on her chest.
“Lacey Jane, bring me a damp sponge,” Miss Odenia said. “I’m sorry, Mimsie, but I do not have rats.” She dabbed at Mrs. Lovering’s skirt with the sponge. “There, that’s most of it. In this heat, that wet spot will dry in no time.” She looked at me. “Who let that lummox of a cat in here?”
“Doublewide must have slipped in when nobody was looking.”
“Fetch him and put him outside.”
But Doublewide wasn’t having any of it. When I raised the tablecloth, he growled and crouched over his sandwich, probably thinking I was going to steal it. Or maybe he was insulted because Bambi’s mother had called him a rat.
“He—he’s—” I searched for a polite way to say that a stick of dynamite wouldn’t budge him. “He’s indisposed at the moment.”
“Indisposed!” flared Viola Sandbanks. “Well, I never!”
“Let him stay,” Palmer said. “Maybe he’ll bring me luck.”
Miss Odenia said crisply, “Girls, would you clear, please?”
After the last crumb was swept off the tablecloth, Miss Odenia opened a shiny black box and took out a deck of cards.
“Y’all playing poker?” I asked.
“Euchre,” said Mimsie Lovering. It sounded like yuker.
“Bless you,” Lacey Jane said. “Need a Kleenex?”
“That’s the name of the game.”
Miss Odenia expertly dealt the cards, one at a time, around the table, then stacked the leftover cards in the center of the table. “Spades are trump.”
“First jack deals,” said Palmer, holding up the jack of spades. “Dealers rotate clockwise.” She shuffled the leftover deck and began dealing a second round.
Mimsie Lovering talked more than the other three put together. It was Bambi this and Bambi that till I wanted to gag. Or gag her. Every time Bambi’s name was mentioned, Lacey Jane’s lips pursed, and she rattled the dishes.
I didn’t know anything about euchre, or whatever it was called, but I noticed that Mimsie Lovering, who sat across from Palmer, gathered the cards after the first game and slung them around. She tossed the last four cards in the center of the table, facedown. They called that pile the kitty.
“Spades trump?” she asked, casually flipping the top card of the kitty. She slid the card into her hand with a satisfied smile.
“Hey,” I said. “Isn’t it supposed to be Miz Odenia’s turn? If you were going clockwise, I mean?”
“Caught stealing the deal, Mimsie Lovering!” Viola Sandbanks exclaimed. “And by somebody who doesn’t even know the game!”
“The card’s in my hand,” Mimsie said tightly. “It’s legal.”
“This time,” said Miss Odenia. “Do it again, you’ll take a penalty.”
Viola waved me over in a jangle of charm bracelets. “Rebel? Would you and Lacey Jane serve at my Madame Queen party tomorrow evening? I’ll pay.”
Money! I looked at Lacey Jane. She nodded back.
“We’ll be there!” I wanted to ask exactly how much she was paying but knew it wasn’t polite. Just so long as it was cash on the barrelhead.
I headed back for the kitchen, but Violet Sandbanks grabbed my arm.
“Stay here,” she said, “and keep an eye on Mrs. Lovering.” She laughed to show she was only joking.
Mimsie Lovering glowered at me. Clearly she was not amused.
The mother of my biggest rival in the beauty pageant was now my enemy.
The Marriage Turtle of Terrapin Thicket
The card game broke up at exactly four o’clock. Mrs. Lovering opened the door, turning to tell the others good-bye. Rudy, dirty from one end to the other, tried to squeeze inside past her, but stumbled.
“Sorry,” he said, slapping grubby handprints on her white dress. “Gotta go to the bathroom.”
“Didn’t I tell you to stay in the yard?” I said. “You listen real good.”
Bambi’s mother sniffed. “Were these children raised by cougars?”
At last the company left. Miss Odenia sagged against the wall as Rudy hurled himself into the living room. The hand he’d washed held a tan object.
“Look what I dug out of the ground, Rebel! An old tool from the Cool Age!”
“It’s Ice Age, not Cool Age.” I examined the pointy object. “Rude, they didn’t have plastic knives in the Ice Age with ‘Made in China’ stamped on them.”
“Aw! I thought for sure I found something.” He passed it to Lacey Jane. “Want to see?”
She backed away. “Keep your filthy mitts off my brand-clean dress.”
“March back into the bathroom,” Miss Odenia said to Rudy. “Wash your face and both hands. Don’t use the little pink towel. That’s for good.”
Miss Odenia turned on the kitchen faucet, squirted dish soap in the sink, and snapped on a pair of yellow rubber gloves.
“You look like you’re in a TV commercial,” I told her.
“I was in a TV commercial once,” she said. “I used to be a hand model.”
“Say again?”
“Hand model. That was my job.”
“So that’s why you have all these pictures of hands around,” Lacey Jane said.
Miss Odenia dropped silverware into the soapy water. “Those were ads for magazines and newspapers. The statues were cast from my hands. At one time, my hands were kind of famous.” She sighed. “But I never got to be an Avon hand model.”
Rudy staggered in carrying Doublewide, who
was as heavy as a Christmas ham. “Three guesses what I found on the toilet and the first two don’t count.”
“That cat better not be using my toilet!”
“Be still,” I ordered Rudy. “Miz Odenia’s about to tell us her life story.”
“Y’all don’t want to hear about stuff that happened way before you were born.”
“Yes, we do!” Lacey Jane and I said at the same time.
Lacey Jane took Miss Odenia’s place at the sink. “Rebel and me will clean up.”
I didn’t sign on to be waitress and busboy, but I didn’t want to miss this story.
Miss Odenia sank down on the sofa beside Rudy. Doublewide plunked his big self onto her lap, thinking he was forgiven.
“I grew up in Terrapin Thicket. When I was little, I’d sit on the porch with the Sears, Roebuck catalog. I cut out ladies in their evening gowns and day suits and pasted them on corn flakes boxes to make stand-up paper dolls.” She rested her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.
“Soon as I could thread a needle, I was sewing my own clothes on Mama’s knee-press Singer. I bought material with money I earned working in the garden. No bleached feed sacks for me. Sometimes Ercel Grady—he lived on the next farm—he’d come over and visit. Once he brought me a box turtle he’d found in the garden. I was painting my toenails with Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow polish.”
I began to wish I hadn’t made Miss Odenia tell her life story. Turtles and sewing and paper dolls. Yawn.
“Ercel took the little brush and painted ‘EG + OM’ on the turtle’s back. He liked me and I liked him, but only as a friend. That summer, the Simplicity Pattern Company sent their new spring fashions to our 4-H club. I was one of the girls picked to model the outfits. Oh, how I loved wearing those beautiful dresses. From that second on, I craved to leave Terrapin Thicket and be a fashion model.”
“What happened to the turtle?” Rudy asked, bouncing on the cushion.
“Quit interrupting,” I said. “And sit still.”
“The next summer,” Miss Odenia went on, “what should mosey through the garden but that turtle with our initials on its shell? We named him Job because he seemed to be carrying a world of troubles with him. Job came back the next summer too and the summer after that. Ercel said it was a sign that we’d be together forever. I didn’t want to get married. I had plans. When I was eighteen, I left home for Washington, D.C. That summer, Job didn’t come.”
Rebel McKenzie Page 6