Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits)

by Martha Rogers

  Sue Ellen came from the storeroom wiping her hands on a towel. “What’s all the commotion?” She glanced from one to other and then back again.

  Sassy pointed at Dottie Jean. “It’s time for Dottie Jean to have a new hairstyle. And a good cut will do it.”

  Dottie Jean’s heart leapt. Cut her hair? She fingered the long tresses and frowned. “Since when do you care about how a person looks?”

  “Since you decided to socialize with the rich and famous of Jackson. Now, let Sue Ellen work her magic.”

  Sue Ellen grasped Dottie Jean’s shoulder. “Is that what you want?”

  Dottie Jean slumped in the chair. “Well, I admit I need to do something, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything drastic today. Besides, you won’t have time. I only reserved time for a shampoo and styling.”

  She grinned. “I’ll make the time if necessary to do whatever you want.”

  Dottie Jean closed her eyes. Hank loved her hair long although she always wore it in a braid or bun. He said he liked the feel of it at night after she brushed it out. It was a lot of trouble now, and took so long to dry. Suddenly she sat up in the chair. “Let’s do it. Cut it short.” If she was going to a new phase in life, she needed a new look to go with it.

  Sassy chortled and Sue Ellen grabbed her scissors and refastened the cape. Before Dottie Jean knew what had hit, her hair had been shampooed and divided up into sections for cutting. She closed her eyes and shuddered.

  Nancy Sue rested her hand on Dottie Jean’s shoulder. “Are you sure now? After the first cut, there’s no turning back.”

  She squeezed her eyes tight and wrinkled her nose. “Do it while I still have the nerve.”

  Then she heard that first snip of the shears, a tear made its way down her cheek. The cutting didn’t hurt, but the memory of all the years with hair halfway down her back did. She didn’t open her eyes until Sue Ellen was almost finished. She peeked at the floor and discovered a towel with long strips of her hair laid out nice and neat. What in the world? She pointed to the hair. “What’s that?”

  Sue Ellen laid another strip on the towel. “This is your hair and I’m going to braid it in one long braid so you’ll have it to keep.”

  Dottie Jean choked back a sob. What a sweet thing for her to do. She had wondered what Sue Ellen would do with all that hair. Dottie Jean avoided looking into the mirror until it was all over.

  Sue Ellen said, “Okay, it’s all done.”

  Dottie Jean opened her eyes and stared into the face of a woman she barely recognized. Her hair now ended just below her ears and fell softly around her face. “Sue Ellen, I can’t believe it. I really do like it.”

  Sassy slapped her knee, “Honey, you look like a million bucks. We should’ve done this sooner.”

  “What’s with the ‘we’? It’s my hair.” Then Dottie Jean giggled. “But I’m glad you talked me into it. Wait until Jenny sees me.”

  She jumped up from the chair. “I’m supposed to be helping Jenny with ordering food for the week before I leave. Fletcher will be her in less than an hour. I gotta go. How much do I owe you, Sue Ellen?”

  She waved her hand. “Not a thing. I’ve been itching to do this ever since I got back. Maybe you can treat me to lunch one day soon.”

  “That I will.” But it’d take more than a lunch to repay her friend for such a transformation. After one last look at herself in the mirror, Dottie Jean hurried out the door.

  Jenny didn’t look up at first, but Dottie Jean cleared her throat and Jenny glanced up. Her eyes opened wide and she jumped up to grab Dottie Jean’s shoulders. “Mom! You did it! You cut your hair. I love it.” She turned Dottie Jean to see the back. “It looks great.”

  “Thank you. Now let’s get busy with our order. Fletcher will be here soon. At least all my packing is done.”

  Twenty minutes later she headed for home. Her bag sat by the door, and her dress hung in its protective bag, ready for the trip.

  Fletcher arrived promptly, and Dottie Jean opened the door. He stepped back and frowned. “Dottie Jean, you cut your lovely hair.”

  Had she made a mistake? “Hmm, yes. It was getting to be so much trouble.”

  His frown became a grin and lit up her heart like the lights on Broadway. “I like it. Very nice.”

  Dottie Jean breathed a sigh of relief then led him to her luggage. He carried her large tote and hanging bag to his car and helped her in. She settled herself against the buttery softness of the leather seats.

  His car rode like a dream and was so quiet. The contour seats fit her body to perfection. Fletcher slipped a CD into the player and the car filled with the magical songs from one of her favorite musicals. Her eyes misted over. How could she have been so lucky to have a man care for her like Fletcher did? She hoped he didn’t expect her to talk because her tongue had become thick as the ham slices she served in the restaurant. At this moment she wasn’t sure she could say anything even if her life depended on it.

  Finally the tension between her shoulders began to ease, and she relaxed enough to carry on a conversation. Fletcher told her more about the evening.

  “We’ll be at table for ten. Most of the others will be board members, but I do think you know them. Adelle Winston, now Robbins and her husband Jack will be there and also Liz Green Barker with her husband, Howard. The other two couples are Ellen and Jim Barstow and Amanda and Sam Goodson.”

  She recognized the ladies’ names from their high school years, but she didn’t know the men they’d married. The memory of her experience with them tightened a band about her heart. The girls hadn’t even been on speaking terms with Dottie Jean back then. Except for Liz, who had been a cheerleader also, she had no contact with those girls at all.

  Dottie Jean breathed deeply. She could handle anything for one night. But that didn’t still the tingling of her nerves at the thought.

  They finally arrived at the hotel and Mac escorted her to the room he’d reserved for her. Dottie Jean’s mouth dropped open at the elegance of the surroundings. She snapped it shut quickly. No need in looking the country bumpkin she felt herself to be at this moment.

  Fletcher opened a small refrigerator. “I’ve stocked this with your favorite sodas and snacks, so help yourself whenever you feel like it.”

  She gasped in delight. “How did you know what my favorites are? You’ve thought of everything.”

  He laughed. “I have my ways.” Then he stepped toward the door. “I’m going to leave you now so you can rest and have plenty of time to get ready. I’ll be back for you at six.” He grasped her hands in his. “I want this to be an evening you’ll never forget.” Then he was gone.

  She did as Fletcher had suggested and lay down on the bed for a brief nap. Although she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep from the excitement building in her chest, she found her eyes closing and her thoughts drifting. Indeed, she felt like the Queen of England.

  Dottie Jean awoke suddenly and glanced around the room, not sure where she was. Then she remembered and jumped from the bed. She shook her head in relief. Still plenty of time to dress and be ready for the evening.

  At a few minutes before six she whirled around for one last glance in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Sue Ellen had been right, the tiny sparkles of glitter in her hair danced in the light. They looked so glamorous, but she didn’t have the nerve to dust them on her shoulders.

  She stowed her purse with her billfold in a tote and shoved it into the closet. She checked the contents of the evening bag Jenny had given her. Lipstick, hanky, small comb, room key card and mirror nestled in the silky lining.

  Dottie Jean’s fingers trembled as she snapped the bag shut. She closed her eyes. Lord, I know I’m out of my league tonight. Please help me to have a good time and not make an idiot of myself. I don’t want to embarrass You or Fletcher. I’ve never done anything like this, but I know You will be with me every step of the way. Thank You.

  A knock on the door ended the prayer. Dottie Jean took i
n a deep breath then expelled it slowly before opening the door.

  Fletcher’s smile of admiration bolstered her confidence, as did his words. “Dottie Jean. You look lovely.”

  What a good way to start an evening. Confidence filled her. She could conquer the world with Fletcher by her side. He slipped his hand into crook of her elbow and led her to the elevator. When they entered the hotel’s grand ballroom, Dottie Jean swallowed her gasp. Never had she seen such decorations and opulence in one room. Her knees shook, and she grasped Fletcher’s arm.

  She gazed about in awe. The committee for the benefit had chosen an Arabian Nights theme for their décor. Swaths of filmy chiffon in vivid hues were secured with vivid floral bouquets. The tables echoed the jewel tones in their sheer fantasy. The whole place appeared twice its size because of the mirrors along one wall.

  Fletcher guided her to a table at the front of the room where they joined several other couples already in place. As he introduced her to the guests, she recognized her former classmates.

  They welcomed her, but Dottie Jean sensed their scrutiny and couldn’t mistake the dawning recognition in their eyes. They remembered her, the daughter of the drunk from the trailer park. She smiled and settled into her seat.

  Adelle leaned toward her. “You were the cheerleader who ran off and married Hank Weaver. I understand he passed away several years ago.”

  Dottie Jean swallowed hard. “Yes, five to be exact.” Maybe this date hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Although the ladies smiled, it didn’t reach their eyes. A smirk of disdain passed between Adelle and Liz as Dottie Jean reached for her water.

  Heat rose in Dottie Jean’s cheeks as she lowered her gaze to her lap. Fletcher reached over and squeezed her hand. She lifted her gaze to peer at him, and he winked in reassurance.

  During the dinner, conversing with nine other people became difficult. Besides, the women made little effort to include her in their conversation. When they did, she answered with her brightest smile and kindest words. This was one night she refused to be intimidated.

  After the meal ended, the other guests moved to the silent auction tables. Fletcher covered her hands with his. “We can sit here. I’ve asked them to bring us coffee.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” She slipped her hands from his and reached for her glass of water. Would the evening never end? Why had she allowed herself to be talked into coming tonight? But then no one had talked her into it. She’d made the decision herself.

  “I think the ladies were a little surprised to see you as my date tonight.” Fletcher grinned and sat back in his chair.

  She shook her head and set her glass back on the table. “Shocked is more like it. This is the last place they expected to see little Dottie Jean Miller from the trailer park.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

  A waiter arrived with their coffee, and Fletcher waited until he had left then said, “Does it matter what they think? I’m pleased to have you here.”

  “I like being with you, Fletcher, but I’m out of my element here.” She gripped her cup with both hands. Why did Fletcher still have the same effect on her today he’d had back in high school? Hank had been her true love, but Fletcher had been the forbidden fruit that she, like so many of the girls from the trailer park, coveted.

  At that moment a photographer stepped up. “Mr. Cameron, may I have a picture of you and your guest?”

  Fletcher glanced at her when she nodded slightly, then turned to the cameraman. “Yes, you may.” He leaned toward Dottie Jean as the flash bulb lit up the space. Dottie Jean’s heart thudded in her chest. A newspaper photographer? Now she wished she’d declined.

  “Her name is Dottie Jean Weaver of Calista, Mississippi.” Fletcher waited while the reporter made notes.

  When the man left, Dottie Jean picked up her handbag. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to powder my nose.” The air in the room suffocated her. Anywhere would be better than sitting here at the moment.

  “Sure. I won’t be going anywhere.”

  ***

  Fletcher gazed after the departing figure of Dottie Jean. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. She looked lovely tonight, and he was proud to be with her. Adelle and Liz returned to the table with their husbands. Adelle asked as the whereabouts of Dottie Jean.

  “She’s gone to powder her nose as you ladies say.”

  “Oh, I see. Tell me, how did you two get together after all these years?”

  Fletcher sipped his coffee and peered at Adelle. It really wasn’t any of her business, but he didn’t mind answering. “We ran into each other when I went down to Calista for dinner. We dined together at the Catfish House.”

  Liz bent forward, her elbows on the table. “I remember her family. Her mother was my mother’s seamstress. Dottie Jean had some nice looking clothes her mother made from remnants of my mother’s things.”

  Fletcher recognized the remark for what it was. He’d never really cared for Liz and had tolerated her only for Barbara’s sake. Now he understood exactly why he had steered clear of her as much as possible. He didn’t plan to sit here and let them talk about his date. He’d had enough. “Excuse me, please. I’m going over to check out the dessert buffet.”

  The two women grinned, their dark red lips glistening in the light. “I hear the pastries are really decadent. Full of chocolate, whipped cream, and nuts,” Adelle quipped.

  True to Adelle’s words, rich, luscious desserts filled the table. Whipped cream topped many of them and several, covered with chocolate, also tempted the palate. He could at least kill some time making up his mind as to what he’d choose. He figured Dottie Jean would probably choose something chocolate.

  He turned his gaze toward the restroom area and searched for her only to see Adelle and Liz pushing through its doors. His heart jumped and he shuddered. What were those two up to now?

  ***

  Dottie Jean’s hand reached for the lock on her stall, but jerked back when a voice on the other side mentioned her name. She stood silently, aware they wouldn’t notice her in the last cubicle by the wall.

  “Can you believe Fletcher actually brought Dottie Jean to an affair like this?” One voice said. She recognized it as belonging to a flame-haired former classmate, Liz Barker.

  Another woman laughed. “No, I can’t. She’s certainly out of pocket here. Her daddy a drunk and her mother taking in sewing; not exactly the background you’d expect to see with a Cameron.” That sounded like Adelle.

  The bile rose in Dottie Jean’s throat and her dinner threatened to revisit. She rested her forehead against the cool steel of the stall door. Why didn’t they go away?

  “You must admit she looks good. Hasn’t lost her figure, and not much gray in her hair.” Liz offered.

  “Ha. She may look good, but I bet her dress is right off the rack, not more than a hundred dollars or so. Bet she had to save a while to buy it.” The second one snickered.

  “Well, I hear she’s a waitress at some catfish diner down in Calista. What was Fletcher thinking, bringing her here where so many remember who she was and who her family was?”

  Dottie Jean swallowed hard. This had gone far enough. She didn’t have to listen to them. She gathered her courage, unlocked the door, and stepped out. “Good evening, ladies.”

  The two women spun around at the sound of her voice. They raised their eyebrows then shrugged. The red-haired woman spoke. “Why, hello, Dottie Jean. We didn’t know you were in here.” The mirror reflected her smirk.

  “Obviously.” Dottie Jean strode to the sink and squeezed soap from the dispenser into her hand. Please, Lord, calm my anger.

  After washing her hands, she reached for a towel to dry them. The other two women busied themselves with applying lipstick and patting their hair.

  “I do want to correct one mistake. I’m not a waitress, but I am cook, cashier, and whatever else I can do because I own the diner.” She dropped the towel into the bin and opened her purse.

  “Th
at’s nice. Do you also sew like your mother did?”

  Dottie Jean ran gloss over her lips then pressed them together. She turned and smiled at the women. “No. I haven’t had time. In addition to the diner, Hank and I owned a fishing fleet and a seafood company. Perhaps you’ve heard of Gulf Bay Seafood. They do supply most of the fish for the fine restaurants along the Gulf Coast and in Mississippi.”

  Their surprised looks and open mouths tickled Dottie Jean and she had to stifle the giggle in her throat. “Now, I do have to get back to Fletcher. Ta ta.” Oh, how she wanted to swagger out of the room, but she grasped her beaded handbag and strolled out to the ballroom in search of Fletcher.

  Chapter Seven

  What could be keeping her? How long did it take to powder her nose? Then he remembered Barbara telling him how women liked to visit and gossip in the ladies’ room. That could take a while. Her voice at his side startled him.

  “I see you had the same idea I did. Don’t these desserts look delicious?” She reached for a pastry covered with chocolate and topped off with mounds of whipped cream and nuts.

  “Just what I thought you’d pick. Looks good. Think I’ll have one, too.” He made his selection then grasped her elbow and guided her toward sliding glass doors. “Let’s go out on the terrace. It’s getting stuffy in here.”

  Fletcher located an empty table and set his dessert on its glass top surface. “Feels good outside. I love June evenings.”

  He glanced at Dottie Jean and furrowed his brow. Something had happened. Her face looked as forlorn as a lost kitten. His dessert turned to sawdust.

  “Fletcher, when you finish your pastry, I’d like for you to take me back to my room.”

  He almost choked on the bite in his mouth. “What? Take you back to your room?”

  “Yes, I’m feeling rather tired, like maybe I’m coming down with something.”

  He noticed the trembling in her hands before she clasped them together in her lap. Her face now looked pale in the light of the terrace. Clearly something was wrong. Did she really feel sick? “Your face is rather pale. I’m worried about you. I hope you’re not getting a virus or something.”