The exquisitely dressed and coiffed Ms. Beulah looked me up and down and turned her attention to Luke. “Well, Pretty Boy, if you say so. Now, I’m not judging you understand, because when my first husband went off to fight the war 3 weeks after we got married, I became a working girl myself.”
Neither Luke nor I responded to that right away, which turned out to be a good thing.
“Of course, I was working at the refinery since they were short on men,” Ms. Beulah explained, as she dusted a leaf off of her burgundy sweater dress and adjusted her pearls. “But I don’t judge. A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.” Once she had her outfit and jewelry arranged nicely, she looked up at Luke, nodded toward me and said, “Do any of those donuts in that bag she’s holding have sprinkles on them?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” I offered, anxious for the ho to redeem herself in Ms. Beulah’s eyes. I regretted that it hadn’t occurred to me to offer them without her asking, but the back of my legs were still burning from her attempt to run me over. I know there’s probably an etiquette rule for offering sweets to the scooter driver who nearly mowed you down like a bowling pin, but I’m afraid I’m not well versed in that ruling. I unrolled the top of the bag and held it out to Ms. Beulah so she could choose a donut.
She leaned up, looked in the bag, and said, “Pretty Boy, I didn’t bring my glasses, but that looks like sprinkles on the one on the end there. Does that one with the chocolate frosting have sprinkles?”
Luke leaned over, looked in the bag, and chuckled, “Let’s see, Ms. Beulah. Ah, yes, the one on the end with the chocolate frosting has sprinkles. Would you like me to get that one for you?”
Ms. Beulah grinned up at Pretty Boy, I mean Luke, gave him a playful tap on his arm and explained, “Oh heavens no, I can’t have sprinkles. I have the diabetes. Of course, I don’t have it bad like my sister. She has it bad, so she can’t have chocolate. I can have the donut, and I can have the chocolate frosting, but you’re gonna have to scrape off those sprinkles, because I can’t have the sprinkles.” Ms. Beulah turned to me, because I guess she was feeling rude that she wasn’t including the ho in the conversation. “Those sprinkles are made entirely of sugar, don’t you know.”
While Ms. Beulah cleared that up for me, Luke silently chuckled to himself as he held the donut and scraped off the offending sprinkles for Ms. Beulah. Once he was finished, he handed her the donut on a napkin he’d pulled out of the bag.
“Oh, how delightful,” Ms. Beulah practically sang as she admired her donut. “You know, Barney was so proud of Pretty Boy here,” she smiled and said to me. “Barney said he didn’t understand why a young man would just drop everything to hang around with an old coot like him, but that’s what Pretty Boy did. Of course, Barney called him by his name, but I can never remember his name, so Barney said that’s okay, just call him whatever you want.” Ms. Beulah turned her adoring eyes toward Luke, gave him a big smile, and said, “I told Barney, I’ll just have to call him Pretty Boy, because he’s just so darn good looking. Don’t you know, I thought for sure Barney would be jealous, but he told me he looked just like Pretty Boy when he was younger,” Ms. Beulah shook her head and laughed. “I sure am gonna miss Barney.”
Ms. Beulah pulled a tissue out of her pocket and began to dab at her eyes, but it was clear the tears were about to exceed the tissue’s absorbency capacity. Luke and I looked at each other at the same instant, and I think the silent request to ‘do something’ was coming from both of us simultaneously.
“Ah, Ms. Beulah,” Luke began carefully, which gave me the impression he was stalling while he came up with an idea. “I don’t think Uncle Barney ever told Maggie about the time you had to call 911 for him. Why don’t you tell her that story, because it’s a classic.”
“Oh, dear! You never heard the 911 story?” Ms. Beulah asked wiping her eyes and shoving her tissue back in her pocket, “It’s a doozy. You see, Barney came to my house for coffee and my famous buttermilk drop cookies every Thursday. About a year ago, I was busy with my sewing and didn’t realize the time, so I had the machine going 90 to nothin’ when Barney rang the doorbell. Well, of course I didn’t hear him with my bobbin flying the way it was. He thought I must have had something come up to take me away from home at our regular coffee time, so he just left. Wouldn’t you know, I finally took a breather, looked at the time, and realized I’d missed our coffee time? I decided to hop on my scooter and high tail it over to Barney’s to tell him come on over. So that’s what I did. I hopped on my scooter, went out through my garage, and turned the wrong way. So of course, I throw it into reverse, back up at my usual speed, and just about get bucked off my scooter. All of a sudden I hear, ‘MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!’ I turn around and see what nearly bucked me off my scooter was when I ran over Barney. He had me so flustered, I called 911, and all I could tell them was ‘MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!’ Turned out he was coming back, because he got worried that maybe I was hurt, so he wanted to see if he needed to call 911. That Barney sure could make me laugh.”
Luke and Ms. Beulah were both laughing when she finished her story, and I admit I was smiling, but I felt I had to ask, “Was Barney hurt?”
“Oh, no, he wasn’t hurt,” Ms. Beulah assured me. “He had a tiny little fracture in his foot and a little bitty hairline fracture in his leg, but he wasn’t hurt. Ah, that Barney. We always did have fun when we got together.”
I looked at Luke for a clarification, and he said, “Uncle Barney sent me a letter about his incredibly kind friends and neighbors who were taking such good care of him while he was recuperating from his horrible ordeal with a biker gang that tried to kill him. That’s why I came to visit for a couple of weeks last year to see how he was doing. I discovered Ms. Beulah here was the leader and only member of the scooter gang that was after him, so he told me to go back to my life and not worry about him.”
“Don’t be fooled, Missy,” Ms. Beulah informed me with her finger pointed in my face for emphasis. “Pretty Boy here is not someone to be trifled with. Just because he’s good looking doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on upstairs. You get my meaning?”
“Uh, yes ma’am,” I assured her, even though I had no idea if she meant to snatch him up because he’s a good one, or leave him alone because I’m a ho. Truth is, I didn’t think I’d look very attractive sprawled out on the ground with scooter tracks on me, as I yelled, WOMAN DOWN, WOMAN DOWN! That’s why there’s not much she could say that I wouldn’t agree to at the moment.
“I’ll say this just one more time,” Ms. Beulah informed Luke, as she crooked her finger and beckoned him closer. Whatever she whispered in Luke’s ear made him smile and nod. She waved at us, pointed her little scooter of death toward her driveway, and headed home, as she drove with one hand and munched on her donut-sans-sprinkles with the other.
I knew it was none of my business. I knew it was likely nothing to do with me, since not everything is about me, you know. I knew I had no right or reason to ask.
“What did she say?” I had to ask. If Luke was really as perfect as Ms. Beulah and CeCe said he was, I think he would have offered the info without making me ask. Now that’s chivalry.
“Um, it wasn’t anything, really,” he lied.
“Yeah, that’s a pretty big smile on your face, but it’s because of nothing really?” I mocked.
“No, no, no, wait,” Luke tried to backpedal faster. “I’m not smiling because of what she said. It has more to do with – uh,” Luke paused and gave his head a quick shake.
I hoped that shake would help him find some clever words, ‘cause he seemed unable to locate any at the moment.
“I mean, yeah, I’m smiling because what she said was — wait, what was the question?” he asked in an obvious attempt to stall for time.
Nope. Clever words apparently still M.I.A. Before I got the chance to remind him, he must have decided his avoidance made the truth look worse than it actually was.
He did the little head shake again before he said, �
��Oh yeah. What she said,” he paused either to add to the suspense or because he was enjoying himself, as he took a sip of his coffee. “She just reminded me again that she has a granddaughter who isn’t married. She wanted to point out that even though her granddaughter isn’t our age, she also isn’t a ho, so I should keep that in mind.”
Okay, now I was getting a little tired of being referred to as a ho. I felt we’d run that joke into the ground, and she had driven her scooter over it several times. To make matters worse Luke was still chuckling.
I let out a big sigh and asked, “Does she really think that about me?”
“Of course not!” Luke stopped chuckling and looked for a second like he felt bad for me. “Maggie, she’s a joker. That’s why she and Uncle Barney got along so well, because he would never let go of a joke either. To regular people, that was funny only the first couple of times, and that’s not what I was laughing about.” Luke paused, suddenly very interested in choosing a donut. I got the impression he didn’t want to say anything more about Ms. Beulah’s whispered information.
“Look, it’s really fine. You don’t have to tell me what else she said if you don’t want to,” I generously offered, letting him off the hook.
“She didn’t tell me anything else,” Luke the liar said.
“Uh huh,” I agreed to let him get away with it.
“Look, if you must know,” he cracked, “Ms. Beulah tried to sweeten the deal by telling me what her granddaughter does for a living, and I found that kind of funny. Truth is I really don’t want to tell you what she does, because you’ll tell Fry. Just because I think it’s kind of funny doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of it every time I see you guys.”
“Let me guess. She’s an exotic dancer?” I asked.
“NO!” Luke hooted.
“Topless waitress?” I guessed.
“NO! And let me clear up something here,” Luke laughed. “First, get your mind out of the gutter. Second, when Ms. Beulah said she wasn’t our age, it’s because her granddaughter is more mature than we are — not less. Her granddaughter is 48 years old!”
“Oh, okay, then I can see I might have been in the wrong ballpark,” I admitted, “but you didn’t give me any hints. I was trying to think of something that would be embarrassing, or why wouldn’t you just man up and tell me?”
“All right, all right – I don’t think I can take any more of your awful guesswork anyway. Her granddaughter is a psychic in New Orleans, and even though she can’t pick the winning lottery numbers, Ms. Beulah wanted me to know she has had some success with picking winners when betting on football teams. There. Are you happy now?”
“Oh yeah, I’m extremely happy now,” I said biting my lip to hold it down to a smile and keep the laugh inside.
“So you won’t tell Fry, will you?” Luke asked still grinning at me.
“Sorry, but I’m definitely going to tell Fry. And CeCe, but that’s all,” I acknowledged truthfully. “But look, I really didn’t mean to hold you up this long.”
“You’re not at all,” he insisted. “I appreciate both the breakfast and the distraction. I’m not on any schedule. I just decided to get away for a while, since my second in command at the library job can handle things without me for a few days. Uncle Barney wants, uh, wanted to be cremated. He also left specific instructions that he didn’t want a memorial service of any kind. I’ll respect his wishes, but I also feel I have to say goodbye to him. I don’t think I can do that here. Fry’s family has a fishing camp on the Tickfaw River, and he graciously offered to let me use it for a couple of days.”
“Oh, uh, I wanted to offer my help with any details in making the arrangements,” I told him, “but it sounds like Barney didn’t leave much undecided.”
“I think that’s why Uncle Barney was such a successful business man. He made smart decisions, left nothing to chance, and did whatever needed to be done. The problem with his dementia was that he had brief moments of confusion with lots of moments of clarity. During the time his mind was clear, he knew he was becoming confused for ‘spells’ as he called them, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t used to having so little control over his life, and I think it frightened him.” Luke paused and swallowed hard. “Sorry, but I’m hoping I can make some kind of peace with Barney’s death with these few days to process everything.”
I assumed he was trying to force down a lump similar to the one I had in my throat at the moment. Poor Barney. I felt my eyes begin to moisten and decided I should leave before I started blubbering in front of Luke. That would probably make my visit to cheer him up a complete and total failure.
“I should let you get on the road, and I hope everything — I hope you find — have a good trip. Also, I have to get to the shop, so I’d better get going,” I explained as I walked the few steps to my car door, opened it, and slid in. I really need to get a self-help book or something to try to improve my comforting skills. At the moment, I think Sassy Cat, with her aloof little strut and nose in the air would be considered more comforting than I am.
“Thanks for the coffee and donuts, Maggie,” Luke said, all charming and showing off the fact that he wasn’t flawed in the interpersonal communication department. “And the conversation. I really appreciate your stopping by like this.”
“See you when you get back,” I said through my open driver’s side window, as I cranked my car and put it in reverse. I very carefully backed out, since I didn’t want to hit anything, run over anybody, or be delayed in leaving for any reason. This was an emotionally exhausting visit, and I needed to go.
When I walked into the Big and Blessed shop, Fry was sitting on the bar stool behind the register reading, Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Pregnant: An Expectant Mother’s Guide to Dealing with Mood Swings.
“Learning anything?” I asked.
By the way he jumped, I gathered he was so engrossed in the book that he didn’t hear the door bells tinkle when I entered.
“I see by the smile on your face that you are mocking me,” he responded. “This is actually riveting stuff. If you and CeCe would just take the time to study . . . .”
“Speaking of CeCe, where is she?” I inquired, noticing I didn’t spot her anywhere in the shop. The added benefit was cutting off one of Fry’s lectures on our responsibility to the pregnant masses before he got going.
“She’s still gathering supplies for – well, speak of the devil. Here she is now.” As Fry was speaking CeCe stumbled in through the door, both hands maxed out with bags. Fry and I rushed to her aid, each of us taking some of her purchases off her hands.
“I got Halloween decorations,” she declared beaming. “I thought we could go ahead and decorate the shop. I love holiday decorations? Don’t you?”
“Yeah, fun,” mocked Fry. “Where’s the coffee?”
Since he was busy peering in bags, he didn’t notice CeCe wince at his question.
“Uh-oh,” CeCe whispered, but not softly enough because Fry looked up from his rummaging.
“CeCe, the reason you decided to go get supplies this morning was because we ran out of coffee yesterday,” he pointed out. “Please don’t tell me I have been waiting patiently all this time for Halloween decorations, because they look, smell, and taste NOTHING like coffee!” Fry’s voice was increasing in volume as he spoke, and I suspected our usually mellow assistant was suffering from a caffeine deficiency. Either that or the book he was reading when I came in was inducing sympathy mood swings in honor of his pregnant clientele.
“Hey Fry, why don’t you take some money out of petty cash, and go down to the coffee shop? Take a little time, sit down, and read the paper while you enjoy your coffee. Then when you’re finished, maybe you could bring back some coffee for all three of us?” I asked hoping that suggestion would soothe the savage beast he was contemplating turning into while craving his java fix.
“Sure, I can do that,” Fry agreed, his easygoing manner reinstated, along with his smile, just as God intended.
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I smiled back, relieved that it took so little to keep Fry happy. I wasn’t sure if his attitude adjustment was due to the expected coffee indulgence or the anticipation of gathering the latest gossip while hanging out at the coffee shop, but I suspected it was a combination of both.
“I’m really sorry, guys,” CeCe apologized. “I did get the tape and staples and stuff, but then I saw the Halloween section and coffee went out of my mind completely. You know, I blame that Stock and Save Warehouse. Sure it’s cheaper, but it’s not natural to have one place where you can get your nails and taxes done, then purchase tires, groceries, and appliances. It’s too much sensory overload for mere mortals!”
If there’s one skill CeCe and I share it’s the ability to rationalize away our guilt in any given situation. We learned that from our mothers. CeCe executed this maneuver like a pro, and I should know. It takes a master, to know a master.
Fry shoved the petty cash bills he’d scored from under the counter into his pocket and headed for the door. On his way out, he generously allowed, “It’s okay CeCe. I understand the lure of so much shopping, yet so little time. Anybody needs me I’ll be at Coffee Lovers Lane until I return with coffee and a receipt.”
There was no time to wish him Godspeed or even respond, for that matter. His last words were spoken just as the tinkle bells on the door jangled. CeCe started pulling Halloween stuff out of her bags to show me her decorating plans, and I tried to think of a subtle way to steer the conversation to my visit with Luke without making it obvious that I wanted to talk about him. Let’s see – how should I finesse this?
“Don’t you want to hear what happened with Luke?” I whined. Sometimes finesse takes too much time and energy.
“Oh, I completely forgot.” CeCe stopped plowing through the bags and gave me her undivided attention, adding, “Tell me everything.”
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