“I didn’t come to see Timothy. I came to see you,” she said softly. Her eyes rested on the glass shoe collection on the shelf between her chair and the couch.
“Those were my mama’s,” I paused, catching my mistake, but I didn’t bother to correct myself. “She only collected seven of those shoes. I’m always hoping to add a shoe or two, but they’re hard to find these days.”
Mrs. Hollingsworth stared bleakly at a spot on the wall just above my head.
“I owe you my life, Elizabeth,” she said in a barely audible voice. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad I was on hand to help,” I said.
“I should have called sooner,” she continued. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since the day of my heart attack. I needed time to take everything in.”
I nodded. “That’s understandable.”
She got up from her chair and picked up a framed photograph of Timothy and me from the end table.
“Timothy looks so content in this picture,” she mused. “I never noticed what a beautiful smile he has. He tends to be sullen in my presence.” She replaced the photograph. “There are so few things I know about my only child. As you said the last time I saw you, you know him better than I do, Elizabeth.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I hadn’t bothered to get close to him. Not once in his entire life,” she said with a sad little sigh.
She turned to face me. “I never wanted children,” she said. “But my husband, Bettis, insisted we have a male heir who could one day take over the family business. We compromised by adopting a baby. That’s how we ended up with Timothy.”
“You don’t like children, then?”
She rubbed her forearms as if she were cold. “I’m afraid I don’t like people in general. Children less so because they tend to be needy. I shouldn’t have married, but my social position demanded it.”
“I see.”
She shook her head. “No, Elizabeth, I don’t think you do see. You’re the opposite of me in almost every way. You have a genuine affection for people and it shows. You’re very like your mother, Lilly, in that respect.”
“Am I?” I said, experiencing a flush of pleasure at the unexpected mention of my mother’s name.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hollingsworth said with a nod. “Lilly was the sociable, warm twin, whereas I was the shy, guarded one. That was all right when I had Lilly. She was my link to other people. When she died I felt cut off from everyone.”
“You must have felt terribly lonely, losing your identical twin like that.”
“More than you can imagine,” she whispered.
I waited for her to continue. Two feverish spots of color burned in each of her cheekbones as she stood on the braided rug in my living room.
“Dwayne was a fling for Lilly,” she said. “He was so handsome, your father. And Lilly appreciated a good-looking man.”
Her eyes lingered on my face, but I could tell she wasn’t seeing me. She was tangled in memories.
“After she learned she was pregnant, the two of us stayed up all night, discussing her options,” Mrs. Hollingsworth said. “I urged her to have an abortion, but Lilly wouldn’t hear of it. After much discussion, she finally agreed to put her baby up for adoption. However, after she gave you up, she was inconsolable for weeks. She scarcely left the house and she vowed to find you as soon as you reached your eighteenth birthday.”
Ms. Hollingsworth’s voice diminished to a weak whisper. “Not a month after she gave birth to you, she was on her way to her morning classes at the University when she ran her Karmann Ghia into a telephone pole. Her little car crumpled like it was made of tissue paper. She was distracted and upset about the adoption. I’m certain that’s why she had her accident.”
I winced. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hollingsworth.”
Moisture shined in her eyes. I expected her to wipe her tears, but her hands stayed clasped tightly in front of her.
“Eighteen years after Lilly died, I searched for you. I was desperate to find you, as you were all that was left of my sister. I went to the adoption agency in Atlanta and they couldn’t tell me anything. My only hope was that you’d seek us out. And now here you are.”
I nodded.
A lone tear trickled down her pale cheek. “I’ve really made a mess of things. I don’t suppose Timothy will ever forgive me for trying to bribe you to leave him. I fear our relationship will always be damaged by my foolishness.”
“It might be,” I mused. “That is if Timothy knew about your monetary offer to me, but seeing how he doesn’t—”
“You didn’t tell him?” she gasped.
I shook my head. “I didn’t see any reason to.”
A look of genuine gratitude registered on her face. “Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you so much.”
She looked so helpless, so unaccustomed to reaching out to anyone. I took a deep breath before I spoke.
“I know Timothy well enough to say that he’d like nothing more than to be close to his mother.”
She bit her bottom lip and her hands shook slightly as she spoke.
“And what about you, Elizabeth? How do you feel?” she asked softly. “I know I said some terrible things to you.”
I looked at her face, which looked so soft and hopeful as she spoke. It was as if ten years had been washed away by her tears.
“Why don’t we just put all of that behind us, Mrs. Hollingsworth?”
The corners of her mouth turned upward and she exhaled noisily, as if she’d been holding her breath during our entire conversation. “Please, Elizabeth. Call me Daisy.”
Thirty-Seven
Fear knocked and faith answered.
~ Sign outside the new and improved Bottom Dollar Emporium
Daisy was initially disappointed that Timothy didn’t want to carry on with his position at Hollingsworth Paper Cups. However, she took his decision to buy the bait shop gracefully and decided that she would stay in Georgia indefinitely, so she could look after the corporation and be closer to Timothy and me.
Daisy and I had leisurely lunches at the Wagon Wheel at which she tried to tell me all that she remembered about my mother. Talking about Lilly after so many years of silence proved to be a real catharsis for her. And I was thrilled to learn so much about my birth mother.
During our lunches I also mentioned my interest in marketing. I told Daisy about the new business plan I’d developed for the Bottom Dollar Emporium and how certain I was of its success. I also told her I’d registered for the SAT and that if all went well, I would be applying to the business program at USC in Aiken.
She listened to my plans with rapt attention. Once I’d finished, she smiled broadly. What would I think, she asked, about coming to work in the marketing department of Hollingsworth Paper Cups? She really wanted a family member to be in a key position in the company and she thought I was the perfect candidate. I was so bowled over by her offer that I told her I’d have to think about it.
I tried to imagine me, a dollar-store girl, wearing tailored business suits and talking to the board of directors about quarterly profits and marketing strategies. The excitement of it kept me up at nights. After much hand-wringing on my part and lots of encouragement from Timothy, I told Daisy that I would be thrilled to accept a position at Hollingsworth Paper Cups. We agreed that I would start my new position right after I enrolled in the business program at USC.
Speaking of which, Mavis, Attalee, and I’d been working ourselves into a tizzy, trying to get everything just right for the grand opening. We were checking in merchandise and smartening up the interior in preparation for our big day. Timothy had seen to it that the soda fountain was assembled and shined up to a high gleam in the back of the store. He also signed the final papers to purchase the bait shop.
Meanwh
ile, Timothy and I found a cottage near the creek with a big, wide porch, a sunny kitchen, and a fenced-in yard for Maybelline. There was also a freshly painted room just off the master bedroom decorated with a border of teddy bears. We made an offer, and after a little dickering on my part, the cottage was ours. We planned to move in by the end of the month.
On the morning of the grand opening of the new and improved Bottom Dollar Emporium, Timothy tied the bow in the back of my frilly candy-striped apron. We all got new uniforms to go along with the old-timey theme of the Bottom Dollar.
“Are you nervous?” Timothy asked.
“A little,” I said, twisting in front of the hall mirror to catch a glimpse of the apron from the back. “Last night I dreamed that nobody came to the grand opening.”
Timothy laughed. “Well, you know that won’t happen. You sent press releases to every newspaper within a two-hundred-mile radius. Plus it’s the one thing this town has been talking about for days. Even the guys at the bait shop are excited. Lots of people are eager to hear that Elvis impersonator you booked for the opening.”
“Yes, well, I just hope he’ll go over with the crowds,” I said.
The Elvis impersonator I’d hired was Dun Woo from the House of Noodles. I’d been skeptical because Dun Woo was under five feet tall and Chinese to boot, but when he sang “Love Me Tender” to Attalee and me, we got shivers up and down our spines. Dun Woo also promised to wear elevator shoes for the gig.
Besides the Elvis impersonator, I’d lined up a clown, Pam’s Portable Petting Zoo, and the Cayboo Creek Cloggers. Buddy, who was a Shriner, had arranged for some of his fellow Shriners to wear their flowerpot-shaped hats and make figure eights in the parking lot with their little cars.
Matilda had agreed to read tea leaves for folks, and members of the Methodist Church were going to sell baked goods out front. I wanted the grand opening of the Bottom Dollar Emporium to be the biggest event to hit Cayboo Creek in decades.
Timothy pecked my cheek just before I left. “Everything’s getting underway around noon, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay, Sweetie. I’ll knock off at the bait shop and see you then.”
When I got to the store, Mavis and Attalee were just opening up. The porch was decked with an assortment of geraniums in gleaming copper pots and an old-time vending machine filled with ice-cold root beers. A line of rocking chairs swayed in the breeze.
Mavis’s hand shook as she worked the key in the lock. To match her uniform, she wore red lipstick, nylon stockings, and a pair of white pumps. Attalee had her teeth in and her hair in an elaborate bun swirled like the ice cream in a DQ cone.
“I declare, I’m more nervous today than I was on my wedding night,” Mavis said as she pulled open the door.
We bustled inside and although we’d all seen it the night before, the differences in the store still stopped us short.
Hank had restored a hand-cranked antique brass cash register he’d bought for Mavis at an auction, and it gleamed on the checkout line like an Aztec shrine. Beyond the cash register were rows of wooden barrels brimming with jawbreakers, Red Hots, and Chocolate Babies. Mason jars displayed gourmet lollipops and candy sticks in every flavor.
I could smell the roasted coffee beans in their burlap sacks, the bundles of cinnamon sticks, and the hand-dipped candles that came in every scent from English lavender to spiced pear.
In the grocery section, jars of home preserves like jams, jellies, relishes, and pickled fruits winked from the shelves. Along with the preserves, there were small sacks of stone-milled grits and boxes of buckwheat pancake mix and Moon Pies.
I personally favored the mysterious tinctures in the health-and-beauty section. There were dark bottles of Yager’s Liniment, tins of Cloverine Salve, and containers of pine tar soap.
The toy section was a child’s paradise. It spilled over with Chinese checkers, stick horses, cast-iron banks, and sock monkeys.
Finally, the houseware section was stocked with gadgets of all sorts, like cherry pitters, Jew’s harps, and Gerber knives.
Attalee picked up a drawstring bag filled with lye soap. “All of this stuff sure does bring back some memories,” she said in a wistful voice.
Although the merchandise was old-fashioned, the marketing behind the store was anything but. In addition to all the press releases I’d sent out, a Web site and distribution plan had been designed for the Bottom Dollar Emporium so eventually merchandise could be shipped to people all over the Southeast.
In the back of the store, cordoned off with a low picket fence, was the soda fountain. It was marble-topped with red swivel stools. Attalee had proclaimed herself the official soda jerk. She wore a starched white jacket, matching hat, and a jaunty red bow tie.
“In my day, the soda jerk was one of the most respected members of the community,” Attalee said, clapping her hat to her head. “It was a highly sought-after occupation.” She’d spent the last few days brewing up a menu of egg creams, phosphates, malteds, and floats.
Mavis stood in the center of the store, just taking it all in. She withdrew a handkerchief from her bag and dabbed at her eyes.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. Thank you so much, Elizabeth.”
Mavis and I embraced just as Birdie trotted into the store.
“Extra! Extra! Read all about it!” she said, holding up the front page of the Cayboo Creek Crier. “I used the biggest type I had. Just as big as back in 1969 when the first man landed on the moon.”
The headline, which splashed across half the page, said, “Bottom Dollar Emporium is a Blast from the Past! Grand Re-Opening Scheduled Today.” Sidebars included, “Elizabeth Hollingsworth, Store Manager, Is Marketing Maven” and “Attalee Gaines Named as Head Soda Jerk of the Bottom Dollar Emporium.”
“I almost forgot,” Birdie said. She rummaged into the miniature Igloo cooler she’d brought. “I have some orchid corsages for the three of you to wear on this auspicious occasion.”
Birdie pinned the corsage to my apron strap. “Elizabeth, it’s going to feel downright peculiar not having you with us. Mavis, have you found a replacement for Elizabeth yet?”
“There is no replacement for Elizabeth,” Mavis said in a soft voice. “But I do suppose I’ll have to hang a help-wanted sign in the window one of these days.”
Hank entered the store wearing an ill-fitting corduroy jacket over his overalls and carrying a horseshoe made of carnations with a banner that said “Congratulations.”
“I thought I’d come over and rub elbows with the women of the hour,” he said. “And maybe help myself to a stick of peppermint candy.”
Mavis patted her hair. “Oh, Hank, that’s a lovely arrangement. I’m putting this right up front so everyone who comes in can see it.”
Mrs. Tobias (or “Dear,” as I was trying to remember to call her) came in cradling three dozen long-stem red roses, which she gave to Mavis, Attalee, and me. When she toured the interior of the store, she kept squeezing my hand and marveling over what a wonderful granddaughter she had.
By 9 a.m. a sizeable crowd had arrived to watch Mavis cut through a strip of red ribbon that was stretched across the doorway. One half hour after we opened, the checkout line wound all the way back to hardware and every stool at the soda fountain was occupied. Chiffon assisted Attalee in preparing malts and egg creams, and Timothy had arrived to help me bag purchases at the checkout. Everyone who came in raved about all the new merchandise and most filled their baskets.
“This town has needed a community gathering place for a long time,” Birdie said to me. “Elizabeth, you’ve not only saved Mavis’s business but you’ve given Cayboo Creek a place to meet and socialize with their neighbors.”
By noon, the parking lot was mobbed. Folks had brought blankets and coolers and spread themselves out on the grass
y areas around the store to watch the cloggers and listen to Dun Woo, who wore wraparound sunglasses and a miniature rhinestone-studded jumpsuit, sing “Jailhouse Rock.”
That day everyone I knew dropped by the new and improved Bottom Dollar Emporium for a visit. Even Taffy and Daddy paid their respects—without Lanier. Turned out he was back in jail for hot-wiring a Miata.
Taffy, who looked like a matador in a bolero jacket with gold braiding, appeared to miss the point of the Bottom Dollar Emporium entirely.
“Betty D. About these washboards. Why in heavens would anyone buy such an old-fashioned contraption when they can toss everything into their Kenmore?” she said with a smirk. “And you really should consider updating your candy inventory. You’re selling sweets that were around when I was coming up.”
Daddy, on the other hand, beamed with a pride I would never have expected from him. He kept patting my back, saying he was proud to call me his daughter.
“Who’s my baby girl?” he drawled, slinging an arm around my shoulder. I started to deflect his question, but it occurred to me that I was my daddy’s baby girl after all. I’d certainly inherited some of his acumen for business.
“I’m your baby girl, Daddy,” I said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
I hadn’t yet told Daddy about the baby-switching or that Lilly had been my true mama. I decided that someday he and I would sneak off together, without Taffy, and I would tell him everything.
Boomer came by and bussed my cheek. “Your meemaw would’ve have been so proud of you, Elizabeth,” he said. “I just wish she was here to see this.”
“Boomer, I do believe she is seeing this.” I placed my hand on my heart. “As a matter of fact, I feel her here with us right now.”
Matilda had taken a break from reading tea leaves and asked to see me outside for a minute. “There’s something I wanted to show you,” she said in a mysterious voice.
We went around to the back of the store, where we could have some privacy.
Bet Your Bottom Dollar (The Bottom Dollar Series Book 1) Page 23