Still, I didn’t consider Jonelle a serious rival. She was something of a floozie and I didn’t think she could hold Clip’s attention for long.
I got up from my chair and looked out the window. Jonelle was tugging the arm of six-year-old Kimbro, who was grinding her Mary Janes on the asphalt. Jonelle gave Kimbro a sound smack on the back of her blue chenille, rhinestone-studded dress.
“That Jonelle must paint her blue jeans on with a roller,” Attalee said with a snort. “And she dresses that child up like a Christmas tree.”
Jonelle pushed open the glass door and waggled her hot pink fingernails at us. Kimbro trailed behind, her lower lip pooched out, sniffing back tears.
“Hey, Bottom Dollar girls. How y’all doing today?” Jonelle said, her voice as thick and sweet as Aunt Jemima syrup.
“Fine, Jonelle,” Mavis said. She knelt down to speak with Kimbro. “Hey there, sweetcakes. Why the long face?”
“Oh she’s got her Underoos all twisted in a knot, because we entered the Miss Dimple Darling pageant and she didn’t even place,” Jonelle said. She glared at her daughter. “It was her own fault. Little Miss Kimbro didn’t want any Vaseline on her teeth. ‘Vaseline tastes icky.’ Well, it sure cost her a bunch of congeniality points when her smile muscles seized up.”
Mavis tsked. “Well, maybe a Pixy Stix would help dry those tears? Can she, Jonelle?”
Jonelle shook her head. “Kimbro’s off of sugar right now. She weighed in a little heavy at her last doctor’s appointment. But you may pick yourself out a coloring book, Kimbro, as long as you don’t dirty your dress.”
Kimbro skipped to the toy department, holding up the corners of her pageant dress. Her brunette bouffant was coated with enough hair spray to qualify as a fire hazard. Jonelle raked her fingers through her dark mop of curls, which weren’t teased or sprayed up high like Kimbro’s. Instead, Jonelle had a just-crawled-out-of-bed look. She wore a tight, black blouse with a peek-a-boo back and her eyes were rimmed with dark blue eyeliner.
“What can we do for you today, Jonelle?” asked Mavis.
“Well, I didn’t come here to market,” Jonelle said. She turned in profile toward the door. I got a wee bit of satisfaction when I noticed her rear end revealed a strong resemblance to the hot side of a flat iron.
“Nothing personal,” Jonelle continued. “I’m just so finicky when it comes to what I buy and y’all sell so many strange off-brands.”
She picked up a can of peas and scrutinized the label. “I mean, who ever heard of Findley Farm Peas, for pity’s sake? I won’t touch peas to my lips unless they’re LeSueurs.”
“And I bet when you let loose a toot, it smells like designer perfume, Jonelle,” Attalee said.
“Attalee,” Mavis said.
Jonelle twisted her face into a scowl and narrowed her eyes at Attalee. Then she said, “Actually, I came here to see you, Elizabeth. I thought you should be one of the first to know.” She paused dramatically. “Me and Clip Jenkins are now engaged.”
“What?” I asked.
“Clip asked me to marry him last night.” Jonelle smiled sweetly. “I felt compelled to do the Christian thing and tell you myself, so you wouldn’t have to hear it on the streets.”
The Duchess honey bun I was nibbling on suddenly tasted like a wad of sawdust.
“This is certainly a surprise,” I said in a raspy voice.
Jonelle flashed a 150-watt grin. “It’s been a whirlwind romance. And I do believe Clip will make a wonderful stepdaddy for Kimbro.”
“That’s enough.” Attalee stomped over to Jonelle and stuck a finger in her face. “You didn’t come here to be Christian. You came here to gloat. Round up your young’un and get on out of here, since you ain’t buying nothing.”
A red flush crawled up Jonelle’s neck. “Mavis, you hear what she said to me?”
“Maybe you’d better just leave, Jonelle,” Mavis said. She slid a protective arm around my waist. “You all right, Elizabeth?”
“Mummy! Look what I found!” Kimbro said. She ran to her mama with a package in her hand. Jonelle snatched it. “Fingernail tattoos? Well, that’s just t-a-c-k-y. Come on, baby. I’ll take you to Kaybee Toys in the Augusta Mall where they have quality merchandise.”
I lifted my chin and looked Jonelle in the eye.
“Congratulations, Jonelle. I’m sure you’ll be very happy. Clip’s a fine fellow.”
“He is fine folks, unlike some people I know,” Jonelle said, sticking her tongue out at Attalee. “We’re leaving now.”
We watched her storm across the parking lot, dragging her little beauty queen.
“What a hateful girl,” Mavis said. “I hope you weren’t too hurt by her news, Elizabeth.”
“I’d like to slap the taste out of that boy’s mouth,” Attalee said. “Leaving you a note with no explanation. And right after your engagement party. Furthermore, I should have pulled Jonelle’s perm right out of her roots for sashaying in here with that announcement.”
“You want to know what’s the worst of it?” I asked, with a sniff. “It’s not so much losing Clip, though that did hurt like nobody’s business. It’s the uncertainty. I haven’t seen him since the night of our engagement party. I haven’t the foggiest idea why he broke things off.”
Mavis kneaded my shoulder. “Maybe it was just a case of cold feet.”
I tried to squeeze back the tears, but they dribbled down my cheeks. “Then why aren’t his feet cold with Jonelle?” I asked.
Mavis stooped down in front of my chair and stroked my cheek. “Oh, lamb, they just got engaged. Wait until they announce a date and she picks out a gown, then his feet will probably freeze up like Eskimos Pies. Or at least they ought to. That Jonelle is one scary woman.”
Attalee was still staring after Jonelle.
“And that Clip is full of mysteries,” she said. “First he breaks off his engagement with you. And then, right afterward, everyone sees him tooling around Cayboo Creek in that expensive truck.”
I wiped a tear from my cheek.
“It’s got everything on it: Nerf bar, KC Lights, and mud flaps customized with the Rebel flag,” I said in between sniffs. “That was Clip’s dream truck when we were dating. It costs thirty thousand dollars. There’s no way he can afford that truck just delivering RC Colas.”
Mavis rose from the floor. “I’ve heard rumors about him going around town flashing a big wad of bills. I wonder what that boy’s gotten himself mixed up with.”
“Whatever mess Clip might have gotten into isn’t my problem anymore,” I said in a ragged voice. “It’s Jonelle’s. And maybe she did me a favor coming in here and telling me about her engagement. Now I know there’s no point in pining over him anymore.”
“That’s right!” Attalee said. “Out with the old, in with the new.”
Of course we all knew that was easier said than done. With a population of just under six thousand, Cayboo Creek wasn’t exactly spilling over with eligible bachelors. Folks could hardly blame Jonelle for snapping up Clip. Good-looking single men didn’t have a long shelf life in these parts.
“Orson at the bait shop isn’t a bad sort,” Mavis mused. “Course, he’s missing his thumb on his left hand from that firecracker accident a couple of years back.”
Attalee snapped her fingers. “What about Garnell Walker? He might not be the prettiest fellow in South Carolina what with his overbite and all, but he’s got seniority out at that kaolin company across the river—”
“Attalee!” Mavis said. “Garnell Walker is fifty-two. He’s way too old for Elizabeth, plus he’s keeping company with Effie Stykes.”
“That’s not so old,” Attalee said with a pout. “And Effie has that big birthmark on her cheek. Looks like someone hit her on the side of her face with a tomato.”
I held up my
hand. “Stop. Both of y’all. I don’t need to be rushing into anything.”
“That sounds very sensible, Elizabeth,” Mavis said. “Young women are much more independent nowadays. My goodness, it’s gotten so a woman don’t even need a man to have a baby. She can just run out to one of those banks and withdraw her some sperm.”
Attalee made a face. “That don’t sound like a whole lot of fun.”
Mavis clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we break out Elizabeth’s birthday cake that Birdie dropped by?” she said. “There’s nothing like a slice of red velvet cake to cheer a person and I think everyone in here could use a lift in spirits. What do you say, Elizabeth?”
“My birthday isn’t until tomorrow.” I glanced at my watch. “And it’s only 8:30 in the morning.”
“That’s what makes it so naughty,” Mavis said. “Let’s live a little.”
“I’m game,” Attalee said. “Slice me off a big hunk. I need the energy. I was up all night with a twitching leg.”
I rubbed a hand across the soft bulge of my belly. Maybe Clip had left me because I was too plump for his tastes. Certainly Jonelle wasn’t toting any extra flesh.
“I don’t think I want a piece. Y’all go ahead,” I said.
“But red velvet’s your favorite,” Mavis said. Concern shined in her eyes.
“It would just get all caught up in my throat right now,” I said. I hiccupped. “Will y’all excuse me for a minute?”
I didn’t wait for an answer, but instead fled to the small bathroom in the back so I could cry in private.
Jonelle’s news proved the idiocy of any reunion fantasies I may have had. Clip was really gone from my life and my silly wishes would never bring him back. He probably didn’t think about me at all anymore.
As I caught a glance at my swollen face in the mirror, I got angry with myself. I had spilled enough tears over Clip Jenkins. If he could attach himself so quickly to another female—particularly one as sleazy and conniving as Jonelle Jasper—he didn’t deserve even one teaspoon of my salty tears.
I splashed water on my face and blew my nose. I just didn’t have time to be mooning over an ex-fiancé, not with the Bottom Dollar Emporium hanging by a thread and Mavis threatening to move to South Dakota.
I simply could not let that happen. Mavis was a Southern gal, born and bred. She should be surrounded by magnolias, not moose. And South Dakota was so far away it might as well be Jupiter. I’d probably never see her again if she moved.
One way or the other, I was going to fight this thing with the Super Saver.
Four
Nothing is less important that what fork you use.
Etiquette is the science of living.
~ Grace Tobias’s favorite quote from Emily Post
“Here comes Gracie Tobias, pulling up in her big, white Caddie,” Attalee hollered out. Her rag squeaked as she wiped down the glass window out front. Mavis and I were in the break area, nibbling on the remains of Birdie’s cake. I’d turned twenty-six today.
Mavis went to the window for her own peek. We were all curious about Mrs. Tobias because she wasn’t our typical Bottom Dollar Emporium customer. Her Southern accent was clipped and polished like a freshly groomed poodle, and she lived across the Savannah River in a rich area of Augusta, Georgia, called The Hill.
“Hello, ladies,” Mrs. Tobias trilled as she swept through the door. She peeled off her little white driving gloves. She wore a tailored pink suit with gold buttons and pumps with matching pink bows. “Mavis, Attalee...” Her eyes searched the store until she spotted me behind a display of Krack-O-Pop Party Mix. “Elizabeth, there you are. Happy birthday, dear!”
“Hey, Mrs. Tobias,” I said, sucking frosting from my thumb. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
Mrs. Tobias’s nose wrinkled up like she smelled something funky.
“What did I say?”I asked.
“Elizabeth,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “What have I said ‘hey’ is for?”
I blushed. “Horses. Sorry, Mrs. Tobias, I forgot myself.”
I was accustomed to Mrs. Tobias’s corrections of my English, and her gentle manner took the sting out.
“Of course I remembered your birthday,” she said. “October fifteenth is a red-letter day. In fact, I even have a gift for you.”
She pulled a long, slim box from her crocodile bag and handed it to me.
“Why, Mrs. Tobias. Thank you.”
I removed the lid and saw a gold locket lying on a bed of cotton. I spread the necklace across my forearm. It was a little slip of a thing, delicate as a whisper. I guessed it wouldn’t turn my neck green like most of my jewelry.
“Here, let me,” Mrs. Tobias said. I held up my bush of dirty-blond hair. Mrs. Tobias draped the chain around my neck and fastened the clasp. The links felt cool and watery as they brushed up against my skin and the locket nestled at the base of my throat. She stood in front of me, beaming. I felt like a ship being christened.
Mrs. Tobias expelled a sigh. “You look lovely, Elizabeth. The necklace is brand new, but the locket belonged to me when I was a very young woman. Unfortunately, the latch has been stuck for several years and it doesn’t open.”
“This is a family heirloom?” I gingerly touched the locket. “Mrs. Tobias, I can’t accept such a precious gift.”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Tobias said. “It’s a simple trinket. Show the others how lovely it looks on your neck.”
I hesitated, but the resolute look on Mrs. Tobias’s face made me slowly turn to Mavis and Attalee. “Look, y’all, at the necklace Mrs. Tobias gave me. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever worn.”
Attalee fingered the chain. “Lord, goodness,” she said. “That’s a fine piece of jewelry. I’ll bet you could get a nice sack of change for it at the pawn shop.” She glanced up at Mrs. Tobias and cupped a hand to her lips. “As an insurance policy for the hard times ahead.”
“I would never dream of hocking this, ever,” I said quickly. I patted the necklace protectively. “And hard times aren’t coming.”
Mrs. Tobias fluffed her caramel-colored curls. “What’s this talk about hard times?” she asked.
Mavis winced, and she abruptly turned her back on me to wipe down an empty shelf. This Super Saver business was taking its toll on her.
“Well, there’s a new dollar store coming to Cayboo Creek a few blocks away,” I said in a low voice. “It’s going to be bigger and fancier than the Bottom Dollar and we’re all a little worried—”
“Doomed is what we are, Mrs. Tobias,” Attalee boomed. Her bad eye flickered rapidly behind the lens of her glasses. “That Super Saver Dollar Store will sink the Bottom Dollar Emporium like it’s the Titanic.”
“Let’s not hear that kind of talk,” I whispered. “You’ll upset Mavis.”
“She’s got a reason to be upset,” Attalee wailed. “This is even worse than when that opossum died in the air vent last fall and stunk up the store for weeks. And poor, puny Elizabeth thinks she’s going to save us, single-handedly.”
“It’s not impossible,” I said, squaring my shoulders.
“Oh yeah?” Attalee said. “Tell Mrs. Tobias about your latest bright idea. The dead Indian scheme.”
“Well, I admit that didn’t pan out,” I said. “But I think my reasoning was sound.”
Mrs. Tobias’s hand drifted to her lace collar. “What’s this about dead Indians?” she said.
“I did some research on the Internet yesterday,” I explained. “I discovered that over in Arizona some folks opposed the opening of a new Wal-Mart because the store site was going to be on the ruins of a pre-Columbian village. Even though it was a long shot, I decided to research the Super Saver’s plat of land, hoping for something historical underneath—like Indian burial grounds. Unfortunately, I didn’t find an
ything like that.”
“All that running around to the Augusta library and the county seat, and she didn’t unearth one dead Indian,” Attalee sniffed.
“That’s true,” I said. “But I did find out something interesting. Cayboo Creek used to be the asparagus capital of the whole world back in the 1930s, which is pretty exciting when you think about it. People in exotic locales like New York or maybe even Sydney, Australia, dined on asparagus from right here in Cayboo Creek.”
“Oh my,” said Mrs. Tobias.
I shook my head sadly. “As fascinating as that is, I wished I’d found something to save the Bottom Dollar instead.”
Mrs. Tobias pursed her lips. Her pink lipstick matched the suit she was wearing to a T.
“What a shame!” she said. “These mammoth stores are always nudging out the smaller ones. It seems dreadfully unfair. I’m so sorry, Mavis.”
Mavis turned to Mrs. Tobias and responded with a quick nod.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said curtly. “Attalee, I got some boxes in the back that need opening and I’ll be requiring an extra pair of hands.”
Attalee trailed behind Mavis as they both trudged to the stockroom.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Mrs. Tobias. “I didn’t mean to be heaping our troubles on your shoulders. Is there anything I can help you with today?”
“I believe I’m just going to browse a bit,” Mrs. Tobias said. She hoisted a plastic basket on her arm and then paused.
“Elizabeth, I don’t mean to be forward, but just how is it that the opening of the Super Saver is your affair? It couldn’t be so difficult for you to get another job. If not here in Cayboo Creek, surely Aiken and Augusta are ripe with possibilities.”
“I suppose I could, Mrs. Tobias, but I’ve been working at the Bottom Dollar since high school.”
I could have stopped there, but decided to confide further. “Back then, I was in FCA, which stands for Future Cosmetologists of America. I had big dreams of opening my own hair salon one day. But then, on the third day of cosmetology class, my dreams were dashed.”
Bet Your Bottom Dollar (The Bottom Dollar Series Book 1) Page 3