The Whole Town's Talking

by Fannie Flagg

“Because, Darlene, it makes them feel like they’re still in the game. And they look forward to it…and everything is not about money, Darlene.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then why won’t you lend me and Buster any money?”

  “So you and Buster can buy more of that white stuff to snort up your nose? I don’t think so. You’re lucky I don’t call Ralph Childress on you.”

  “You drink beer.”

  “Yeah, and the last time I looked, it was still legal. I’m not harboring any criminals under my roof.”

  “We’ll just move out then.”

  “Oh, Darlene, quit flapping your lips. You know as long as there is a free meal to be had, you and Buster ain’t going nowhere.”

  The old adage “Your children will be a comfort to you in your old age” did not ring true to Tot, at any age. Darlene and Dwayne Jr. had married every idiot that came their way. She had paid for seven divorces between them. Tot was not happy with the way the world had changed, either. There was no Disco City anymore. Years ago, it had become the Red Barn, a country-western boot-scootin’ line-dancing joint. Even the radio was now “less talk, all country, all the time.”

  “I miss disco,” she said.

  —

  IN 1990, AT AGE EIGHTY, when Beatrice Swensen came up to Still Meadows, her parents were excited to talk to her. Her father, Olaf, asked right away, “How is my precious grandbaby, Hanna Marie?”

  “Oh, Daddy, she’s wonderful. She’s married to a nice man named Michael. He works at the dairy with Ander. And she’s so pretty now. Everybody says she’s the most elegant lady in town. I’m so proud of her.”

  A year later, when her husband, Ander, came to Still Meadows and was asked about his son-in-law, he said very little.

  It’s funny, in a small town, how certain people are always referred to in a certain way. All her life, Tot Whooten had had such bad luck that everyone always called her Poor Tot. The same thing was true of Dottie Davenport. She was only five feet tall, and so everyone always referred to her as Little Miss Davenport. She was a dream employee, had worked for Mr. Swensen as his office manager for more than thirty-five years, and was loyal to a fault. Even after Mr. Swensen had retired, she’d stayed on at the office, just to keep an eye on the son-in-law. She didn’t trust him.

  Michael Vincent had been taken into the company right away and seemed to be doing well. Everybody, including Little Miss Davenport, had been pleased that Hanna Marie had found someone so nice. Her new husband was so loving and so good to his young wife, at least in public. But after a while, some people started seeing right through him. His father-in-law for one. He and Little Miss Davenport had begun to figure out that he was pilfering money out of the business account. And it was so unnecessary. All he had to do was ask, and he would have been given anything he needed. Ander hadn’t said anything to his wife or Hanna Marie. As long as she was happy with him, and he treated her well, whatever else he did didn’t really matter.

  Then, when Mr. Swensen died, he left his entire company, the house, and the land to Hanna Marie. Pretty soon, people at the dairy began noticing a change in her husband’s behavior. Michael Vincent had started barking orders at employees and telling them to forget how Albert Olsen, the dairy manager, wanted it done. He was in charge. Everyone was confused. After the head of the packaging department had a run-in with him, he went into Little Miss Davenport’s office. “Dottie, are you sure there was no mention of Vincent in the will?”

  Little Miss Davenport said, “Absolutely. Mr. Swensen put everything in Hanna Marie’s name. So he may be strutting around acting like he owns the place. But on paper, he’s still just another employee working under Albert.”

  “Well, he’s causing a lot of trouble, going behind Albert’s back, threatening to fire people. Three guys in my department have quit already.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “Excuse my French, but it’s too bad Hanna Marie don’t fire his ass. But I guess it would be hard to fire your own husband.”

  She sighed. “I guess. I’ve got a good mind to tell her what’s going on. I’d hate to be the one to burst her bubble. But down the line, if he keeps it up, I just might.”

  1994

  Late Saturday afternoon, the neighbors were all sitting in Elner Shimfissle’s backyard, looking at the sunset, discussing life, wondering why some people acted the way they did. Tot said, “Hell, I don’t know what it’s all about. One day Darlene says she hates life, then she meets another deadbeat to marry and loves it again.”

  “I think most people are confused about life, because it’s not just one thing going on,” said Elner. “It’s many things going on at the same time. Life is both sad and happy, simple and complex, all at the same time. Take my sister Ida. She was always looking for things to make her feel better…the rich husband, the big house, the perfect child, the right garden club, you name it. And by and large, she got them all, but she was never happy. No matter how much she got, it was never enough. She just kept buying more things and putting them in storage. I sat down and figured it out, and I said, ‘Ida, did you know that in twenty-five years, you have spent over thirty-two thousand dollars to store things that you don’t have room for?’ But it didn’t stop her. She just kept buying in case she wanted to use something in the future. I tell you that girl had the energy of a chipmunk, always running here, running there. She never gave herself time to feel sad. Even when Herbert died. The day after the funeral, she was already out shopping at the Sit and Sleep store. Ida was a piece of work all right, but with all her faults, I miss her, and I miss my sister Gerta, too.”

  “Oh, so do I, Elner,” said Ruby. “Since the bakery closed, you can’t find a good pie anymore. The stuff they sell at the supermarket is terrible. I bought one of their pies, and it was so bad I threw it out to the crows.”

  Elner said, “I’ll tell you who makes the best pie in town is Edna Childress. And she makes it right from scratch. You know me. I love a good apple pie, and you can’t beat Edna’s apple pie.”

  “No, you can’t,” said Verbena. “That’s why Ralph’s got such a big belly now. Edna said he comes home from the police station every day and has his pie and coffee for lunch.”

  Tot said, “Can you blame him? If I was married to Edna, I would, too.”

  “She spoils that man something awful,” said Verbena.

  Verbena’s husband, Merle, looked at her. “Why don’t you spoil me a little?”

  “Hey, listen, bub. I cook you three hot meals a day, that’s enough.”

  Tot Whooten took a drag off her cigarette and said, “Hey, speaking of missing people, has anybody seen Hanna Marie lately?”

  Elner shook her head. “No, not much, not since her daddy passed away, and I worry about her. I hope she’s all right.”

  “Me, too,” said Verbena. “Little Miss Davenport told me she used to come down to the office, but now she mostly just stays alone all day in that big old house. But, of course, I see that husband driving around town in Ander’s big car all puffed up with himself. I feel sorry for Hanna Marie is all I can say.”

  Elner said, “You know, it isn’t like Hanna Marie to not come and see me or at least drop me a note.”

  “She’s probably just busy with all her charity work,” Ruby said. “I’m sure she’ll contact you soon.”

  “I hope so. I’m a little worried about her,” Elner said.

  “Me, too,” said Tot. “And it’s not like you can call her on the phone.”

  “No, you can’t,” said Ruby.

  —

  THE TRUTH WAS THAT Hanna Marie had not been busy, as Ruby had thought. She had been devastated. Almost immediately after her father had died, her husband had told her he didn’t want her to come to the dairy anymore, and he hardly ever came home, except to change clothes and go out again. She didn’t know what she had done. When she tried to ask him, he told her she was imagining things.

  On the rare occasion when someone spotted her in town, she looked so sad. Then in November,
the housekeeper happened to mention to Verbena that she had heard Hanna Marie crying up in her room. When Elner heard this, she decided not to stand on ceremony and went over to see her. The maid answered the front door, and Elner went in and walked straight up the grand staircase to Hanna Marie’s bedroom, where she found her sitting at her desk. Hanna Marie looked up and was surprised to see her and came around and hugged her.

  “I haven’t heard from you for a while. How are you?”

  Hanna Marie smiled and jotted down on her pad, “Just fine, and you?”

  “Oh, you know me. Same as ever.”

  Elner noticed for the first time that Hanna Marie had aged. Her brown hair that she wore pulled back from her face was now peppered with gray, and the youthful sparkle in her eyes had begun to fade. Elner said, “Are you sure you are all right?”

  Hanna nodded that she was.

  Elner then looked around the room. “Hey…where’s your kitty?”

  Hanna made a sad face and wrote, “He ran away.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Well, honey, I know you are a grown woman. But just the same, I promised your mother I would look out for you, and if you ever need anything, you send somebody to get me. I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

  Hanna Marie smiled and nodded and hugged her goodbye.

  Just as Elner was leaving, Michael Vincent was coming in the door. When he saw her, he was taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just visiting a friend,” Elner said, and walked down the stairs.

  He called after her, “You better not have brought another damn cat.”

  Verbena’s cousin Virgil A. Newton had been with the dairy for more than forty years. He’d been up every morning at 3 A.M., dressed in his starched white uniform, black leather bow tie, and cap, and was out at the dairy loading his truck by 3:40 and in town by 4:15. As he drove through the empty streets, the whole town would be sleeping. It was Virgil’s own private world, a world before the town woke up and all the clatter of cars, machines, and people began. A few dogs barked, and a couple of roosters crowed now and then, but mostly, it was quiet, and Virgil went out of his way not to disturb the silence of the dawn. At each house, he would ease his truck up to the curb as quietly as he could and stop, then carry the wire basket of milk up on the porch and place it down as softly as he could. He even wore black leather shoes with double thick soles. When he picked up the empty bottles, he tried not to have them rattle too loudly.

  Later that morning, people all over town would open their doors, pick up the milk he had left, and never give him a thought. But Virgil had been there every day, rain or shine, in the heat or freezing cold of winter, long before the paperboy, the bread truck, and the mailman arrived.

  But the years had gone by, and his route became smaller and smaller. The A&P grocery store started selling milk and cream in cardboard cartons, and people didn’t want to fool with bottles anymore. And then one day, the dairy stopped home deliveries all together, and he was put to work counting inventory. His new hours were from 8 to 4, but still, he could never sleep past 3 A.M. And sometimes when he woke up, he would get in his car and drive around town before dawn, remembering a time when he was still delivering milk.

  He would drive his old route and watch the older people’s lights come on at around 5 A.M. Elner Shimfissle was usually in her kitchen by 5:15, and her neighbors by at least 5:30. Elner was like him. She never wanted to miss a sunrise. He remembered when Glenn Warren and his family used to live in that house. There used to be around seventy-five houses in this part of town. Now there were only a few of the older houses left, but he could still remember each one and who had lived there.

  Sometimes while driving around in the early mornings, Virgil, who could whistle, would start whistling one of his favorite tunes.

  The way you wear your hat,

  The way you sip your tea,

  The memory of all that…

  No, no, they can’t take that away from me.

  Virgil had loved being a milkman. Old Mr. Swensen had been such a nice man to work for. But he had died, and the son-in-law had pretty much taken over, and a few weeks ago, Little Miss Davenport had died. Nothing stays the same. Life for him had been just a series of transitions. From glass bottles to cardboard cartons, driving a truck to counting inventory at the plant. Working for a nice man, then working for a bastard. The dairy had always been a local family business before that guy wangled his way in.

  Nobody liked working at the dairy anymore. It used to be a happy place. Not now. What did that sweet lady see in that guy? He heard things from the girls who worked in the office, things Vincent had done. Somebody should tell her.

  1998

  Almost everybody has a secret they take to their grave, and Bonnie Gumms, a recent arrival at Still Meadows, was no exception.

  Bonnie had taught line dancing out at the Red Barn for years, and being a professional of sorts, considered herself to be in show business. She had once met Tammy Wynette, and she certainly knew all the country-western songs. Although she had reached a level of local semi-celebrity, she was restless and not satisfied with her lot in life. Bonnie was always waiting for something exciting, always looking for a new face, craving some unknown thrill.

  And then one night, it happened. As she was showing her class a new move, she’d looked up and thought she spotted the famous singer Willie Nelson quietly slip in the back door of the Red Barn. And he was now sitting alone at the bar. She had heard that he sometimes did that; just sneaked in and out of a place, not telling anyone who he was. Between sets, her heart started to pound as she casually walked over to get a closer look. It was him all right. The same old, wizened face, the scraggly hair and beard, the telltale red bandana wrapped around his head. Bonnie tried her best to just leave him alone, let him have a little incognito, but her proximity to greatness was just too much to handle. Finally, she could no longer contain herself, and she sidled up beside him at the bar as quietly as she could, hoping he would appreciate that she was professional enough not to blow his cover. Besides, if she had, he would have been mobbed, and she would miss her chance at rubbing elbows with the great Willie Nelson. After a moment, she leaned in and said in a low voice while looking the other way, “By the way, I know who you are. But don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Just wanted you to know I’m a big fan.”

  He looked at her, somewhat taken aback, but answered in the same low tone, “Thank you, honey, I really appreciate that.”

  “Just passing through?” she said, glancing up at the ceiling.

  “Yep,” he nodded. “Nice place you got here. And those are some pretty fancy moves you have out there on that dance floor, young lady,” he said with a dangerous twinkle in his blue eyes. “Whatcha drinking, sweetheart?”

  The next morning, Bonnie woke up at the motel with the world’s worst hangover, and Willie was gone, obviously on the road again.

  It was bad enough that she’d had sex with Willie Nelson, a man twice her age, but then later she found out that the man wasn’t even Willie Nelson. How horrifying. Now, some twenty-four years later, when she was actually in her grave, Bonnie still kept her mouth shut.

  —

  THE NEXT PERSON TO ARRIVE at Still Meadows was none other than Bess Goodnight, and Lester Shingle’s friend, as promised, immediately called out, “Hey, Lester…wake up! One of the Goodnight women is here.” Bess had been one of the four women out at the Blue Star Bowling Alley the night he had been murdered and was a prime suspect.

  Then, as fate would have it, only six months later, Bess’s twin, Ada Goodnight, joined her sister up on the hill. Now two prime suspects had arrived!

  From then on, Lester Shingle was wide awake and carefully listening for clues. He was on the alert to hear if he was mentioned in any of their conversations. So far, nothing. Just a bunch of chatter about births and weddings and crap like that.

  2006

  A couple of years earlier, Elner Shimfissle had fallen out of her fig tree and bee
n taken to the hospital. Her neighbor Verbena Wheeler immediately spread word all over town that Elner was dead. Which had not been exactly true but Cathy Calvert didn’t find out until after she had written Elner’s obituary. When Elner came home from the hospital she had gotten a big kick out of reading it. Sadly, this time when word got out that Elner Shimfissle had passed away in her sleep, it had been true. Cathy printed the same obituary that Elner had liked so much. And because Elner had been such a strong presence in everyone’s lives for so long, Cathy decided to ask people in town to give her a one- or two-word description to add.

  She got “funny,” “sweet,” “childlike,” “wise,” “good cook,” “generous,” “hilarious,” “wonderful neighbor,” “best fig preserves I ever ate,” “one of a kind,” “loved animals,” “loved bugs,” “true Christian,” “unique,” and two “irreplaceables.” You can’t do any better than that.

  Although Elner Shimfissle’s death was a sad occasion in town, it was a happy time at Still Meadows. Word spread quickly. “Elner Shimfissle is here! Elner is here!” Lucille Beemer was particularly delighted.

  She knew that Elner would be such fun for people to chat with. She always had such interesting opinions on things.

  But then, everybody liked Elner, and being so old, Elner knew an awful lot of people and had quite a few relatives out there. It took almost an entire week for her to say hello to everybody. And after she had been thoroughly greeted, she said, “Well, you can’t imagine how surprised I am. I just couldn’t wait to see everybody again, but I thought I’d be traveling way up in the clouds, way up to heaven, and all the time, you were just right up the street!”

  Her husband, Will, laughed, “What I want to know, woman, is what took you so long to get here? I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I know you have, honey. I wasn’t trying to live so long. Just too healthy, I guess.”

  Her nephew, Gene, was so glad Aunt Elner had arrived. The first thing he asked about was Dena and whether she was okay. “Oh, yes, honey. She’s married to the nicest doctor and so happy.”