"Can I do anything?" Chris wanted to be useful.
"Stand there and look beautiful." Vic smiled at her.
"Queer," Jinx mocked, emptying a bag of chips into one of the bowls Mignon placed on the tray.
"Takes one to know one," Vic good-naturedly shot back.
They could hear Edward booming. "Too many women. That's the trouble in my house."
"It depends on the kind of women, Edward." Frank gave him a sly glance, which had the intended effect.
Edward grunted, smiled, and leaned back in the chair for a long pull. He winced for a moment as he felt one of the little pellets that was embedded in his backside.
"Poppy, now Poppy, don't you fret. I'll carry you to the hospital if you're feeling weakish." Wrong word.
"Georgia, I've got some ratshot in my ass. I'm not feeling weakish." He looked over the rim of his depleted drink to R. J. "Pardon my French, R. J."
"I hear worse than that around here, Edward. Let me freshen your drink. It's Friday evening, and we all need to just kick back." She stood up, took the glass, and walked into the kitchen just as the girls were walking out. "Vic, the solution to this problem is to bring the booze out onto the patio."
"Yes, ma'am." Vic handed the tray to Jinx, turning to go back into the kitchen.
R. J. put her arm around Chris's waist for a moment. "Chris, there's never a dull moment around here."
Mother and daughter quickly gathered all the necessities for vodka martinis, margaritas, Scotch. Frank liked Scotch, so he was fine. He just needed a splash of soda water. R. J. rarely drank except on special occasions like her husband's birthday.
"Mom, should we put this on the coffee table or on the side table?" Vic asked.
R. J. thought a moment. "Side table. I'd better not let them fix their own drinks, in case someone loses their temper again. You keep an eye on Georgia. I'll watch Sissy and Edward."
"This is a drill." Chris laughed.
"We've done it many times." R. J. smiled as she picked up the tray with ice cubes in a silver bucket and lime, lemon, and orange rind peels in small bowls. Vic handed Chris the bottle of Absolut Vodka and Johnnie Walker Black while she grabbed the other bottles.
"Onward Christian soldiers." Vic opened the door with her foot just as Edward was pontificating.
"Women can't think straight. God love 'em, they just can't."
"I believe they say the same thing about us." Frank's tone was light.
"But I bet if we all sit here we'll come up with an amicable solution." "'Course we will. We're men."
Chris glanced at Vic and Jinx, who bore this sexism stoically. She wondered if Virginia women believed it or if they were obedient just to get their way. Apparently those myths about the Southern belle
were true. If it were up to her she'd knock the old man's teeth down his throat.
"If men are so reasonable, why do you get us in all those wars?" Georgia mentioned this without rancor.
R. J. pushed a lock of glossy black hair out of her eyes. "Georgia's got a point there."
"On top of her head." Sissy giggled as R. J. reached over, took her glass, and made her another.
"Don't be childish." Georgia scowled and then looked up at R. J. "You haven't a gray hair on your pretty head."
"Oh, yes I do. You can't see it out here. Put me under bright lights, and you'll find some."
"Georgia hits the dye pots. Her hair is a blonde not found in nature." She stared at Chris a moment. "I'm sure yours is natural, honey." "Yes, ma'am."
The tension ebbed, the older people chitchatted about goings-on, the younger people refilled chip bowls, the ice bucket, and whatever else needed attention.
At one point, R. J. reached for Mignon. "Sugar, I thought you were going to the football game tonight?"
"I'd rather stay here with you." Mignon didn't want to miss anything, since the Wallaces were capable of explosions in a split second. "Sure?"
Mignon smiled. "Sure."
"When I see your girls I regret not having children," Sissy said. "Don't you, Georgia?"
Georgia nodded in agreement. "Yes, R. J., you and Frank brought
two lovely girls into this world. Such young ladies. And you, too, Jinx."
"Where's your young man?" Sissy leaned over to pat Vic's leg.
Vic, sitting on the edge of her chair, replied, "Football, game to-
morrow. We don't see much of him here on Fridays."
"We like having a young buck around, don't we, Georgia?" Sissy sighed.
Georgia paused. "Any woman who doesn't like looking at a handsome man is dead. That's what Momma always used to say."
"What was that? What did your Momma say?" Edward had never truly recovered from his wife's death thirty-four years ago; he had kept his daughters too close to him as a result of it.
"Any woman who didn't like looking at a handsome man was dead," Georgia repeated.
"That's why she married you, Poppy," Sissy cooed.
He snorted a disbelieving laugh, but he loved hearing that. He pointed his glass in Chris's direction. New ears. "My wife, Dorey, passed away on April thirtieth, 1945. She was forty-one and pretty as a picture. I tell you, honey, it broke my heart. I loved that woman and she loved me. I never have understood that." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.
Finally Frank, seeing his charges were lubricated, made his point. "Now I know this contretemps was over the will, and I know, Edward, your patience can be sorely tried. However, if you return to your original intention and I believe Dorey's original intention, you'll divide your estate fifty-fifty, and I think both girls will discharge their duties faithfully as regards the church and other worthy charities, won't you, girls?"
"Yes," they sang in unison.
"Bring me the papers Monday," Edward said.
"Have you destroyed your former will?" Frank asked.
"Burned it."
"All right. I'll drop by around noon."
After draining the bar dry, the Wallaces repaired to their vehicles.
Sissy opened the door to her Plymouth. "I wish Don McKenna
would get a Cadillac dealership. Poppy, will you buy me a Cadillac?" "Don't push your luck." Georgia closed the door behind her sister
and walked to the Cadillac.
"I was kidding, Poppy," said Sissy, who wasn't.
Numb from the Scotch, Edward didn't wince when he shifted his weight in the passenger seat as Georgia started the motor.
"Frank, I wonder if we should let him drive home?"
"Honey, everyone knows those cars. They'll pull over." Frank laughed.
"Dad, are Vic and I going to fight like that?"
"We might now," said Vic as she put empty glasses on the tray.
"I mean over the will." Mignon couldn't imagine her parents dying, but the Wallaces were a vivid reminder that siblings will act like hyenas over the spoils.
"Everything will be left to you just as it is today," R. J. answered her, firmness in her voice.
A cloud passed over Frank's eyes as he nodded in agreement with his wife.
Later, after everyone was in bed, Chris, in the guest room next to Mignon's, had to laugh. Mignon kept slipping notes under the door. Things like: "Help, I'm held prisoner in this room." Chris would respond with a drawing or something else.
Jinx slept in Vic's room, which had two twin beds with a night-stand in between. Most of the clothes that hung in Vic's closet were Jinx's.
"What time do you want to go to your mom's tomorrow?" Vic propped up the pillows. The lights were out.
"I'll worry about that tomorrow," Jinx said. "Drives me crazy when old man Wallace talks about how irrational women are."
"Let men say and think whatever they want; then go do it your way. That's my motto," Vic replied. "I don't think Charly's going to be like that. I mean he's not that way now. He'd better not turn into a good old boy."
"Who knows? I look at my mother, and I can't imagine her young. Time really does have power." Jinx sat up. "I'm
hungry."
"Eat."
"I can't. It's too late. I've got to lose ten pounds."
"Well, don't think about food."
"I'll try."
"Jinx, you know how we talk about fate?"
Both of them believed in some kind of fate or karma that determined their destinies. Over the years and in many nighttime talks, this concept evolved into a belief that everyone did have a predetermined destination, but that there were obstacles in reaching it. Plus, things happened on the way. People had choices.
"Yes."
"I was thinking, despite fate we still have individual responsibility."
"That's where honor comes in." Jinx had a vision not of honor but of chocolate cake. "How you meet your fate. See? You can either have courage or not. You can face it or run away. Just because you might not be responsible for what happened to you doesn't mean you can't act with honor."
"Ah, you see into things more deeply than I do."
"Maybe." Jinx inhaled deeply. "Chocolate cake."
"Who said anything about chocolate cake?" Vic was slightly bewildered.
"Let's raid the kitchen. I have got to get a piece of that chocolate layer cake."
"All right." Vic wasn't hungry, but she was a good sport. She slipped out of bed and threw on an extra-large T-shirt.
"Fate." Jinx put on her robe. "It's my fate to eat chocolate cake."
y
ou already have enough holes in your head," Vic yelled at Mignon, glued to the backseat of the Impala. They had dropped off Jinx, not too happy about it, at her
mother's house and were on their way to McKenna Dodge. They'd pick up Jinx in two hours. She declared that was as long as she could abide her blood family.
Chris closed her eyes, tilting her head back toward the sun.
"Your ears are pierced." Mignon leaped up, her lips close to Vic's ear. "Mignon, we are not having this discussion. If you're getting your
ears pierced, Mom's taking you, not me."
Mignon now leaned toward Chris. "She is so selfish and hateful. I bet if you had a little sister you'd take her to get her ears pierced."
"Bet I wouldn't." Chris kept her eyes closed.
"What about someone else's little sister?" Mignon was nothing if not persistent.
Vic pulled into the dealership, parking right in front of the plate-glass window. She grabbed a large manila envelope from the top of the dashboard, it was full of sales figures that Aunt Bunny had inadvertently left at the house yesterday, and got out of the car. "Mignon can cruise the new cars."
Mignon clambered out of the car and made a beeline for the reception desk.
"Guess she's going inside to place her order." Chris laughed. "She's very bright, you know. She sent me notes all last night and some of them were very funny."
"Did that little worm keep you awake?"
"After the Wallace drama, how could I have slept?"
"Speak of the devil," Vic murmured.
Out traipsed Sissy Wallace on the arm of Don McKenna. Don's glossy curls reflected the sunlight.
"Vic!"
"Hey, Uncle Don. I was just going to drop this off for you. Chris Carter, meet my uncle, Don McKenna." She handed Don the manila envelope, which he took with his left hand.
With his right, he shook Chris's hand warmly. "Have you met the lovely Miss Wallace?"
"Last night," Chris replied.
"Girls." Sissy beamed. She turned to Don. "Just find out, please do."
"All right, Sissy. I will, and you stay out of trouble, hear?" He
smiled one of those ear-to-ear grins that women found attractive.
"If I'm away from you, I'll be out of trouble." She gave a half skip to
her Plymouth.
As she drove off, the three waved to her.
"Incorrigible," Don uttered through his smile as he watched her finally make it out onto the highway.
"She trying to seduce you, Uncle Don?"
"Always. Always." He let out a belly laugh. "You know what she wants? She wants me to get her a Cadillac at cost. I'm not a General Motors dealer, but she just knows I can talk the Cadillac dealer in Williamsburg or Virginia Beach or Norfolk into a brand-new Cadillac at cost."
"Where's she going to get the money?"
He hooked his thumb in his belt. "Says sooner or later the old man has to let go of some of his money. God knows he's got enough of it."
He walked the two young women into the showroom. Don, now forty-one, exuded a warmth that was irresistible. He genuinely liked people, especially women. And not just for sex—he really liked women.
"Where's Hojo?" he asked one of the salesmen.
"In the bathroom, I think. Said she'd be right back."
"Hot out there. You two like a Coke?"
"No, thanks."
"Me neither," Chris replied. "This is an impressive place, Mr. McKenna. You must be proud of it."
"Don, please. Mr. McKenna is my father." He smiled. "Thank you.
We're very proud of the place. My wife helped me every step of the way." Hojo, poured into a pair of bright orange pants, returned to her post.
Saturdays, a big day at the dealership, meant all hands were on deck. "Have you seen Mignon?" Vic walked over to command central. "She's in the bathroom adjusting herself." Hojo smiled.
Vic noticed that Hojo's plum-colored nails now had sparkles on the metallic polish.
Mignon emerged from the bathroom, flashed her uncle a smile, and walked quickly to the car.
"Such manners. She could have come over here and talked." Vic put her hands on her hips.
"She sees enough of me, I suppose." Don waved at one of his salesmen who was heading toward his office. "I'll be with you in a minute." He returned his attention to Vic after checking the clock on the wall. "Game starts in six hours. You going to make it?"
"No, I'm here for the weekend."
"Want to bet on the score?"
"No, but I'll bet on the touchdowns." Vic smoothed her hands over her Bermuda shorts. "Charly Harrison, two touchdowns."
"Never take a bet I know I'll lose." He clapped her on the back. "You kids come on by any time."
Vic got behind the wheel. "Jeez, these seats are hot."
Chris gingerly put her butt on the cracked leather. "Head for the shade."
As they drove along, Mignon was conspicuously silent.
"When do I get to meet Charly? I feel as if I know him already, sort of," Chris said.
"Next time he comes over, I'll call you. He's a great guy. You'll love him."
Mignon leaned forward. Teasing Vic about Charly was too good to pass up. "She sleeps with him. She won't admit it, but I know they're bumping uglies."
"You don't know anything, Mignon."
"Sexual revolution. Birth control. The sixties," *she sang out, her youthful voice loud.
"It's 1980." Chris laughed.
"Yeah, the sexual revolution started in the sixties and it gets better and better. I know about these things."
"Oh, and what are you doing?"
"I'll tell you if you'll tell me."
"Number one, I, value my privacy. Number two, remember what Grandma Catlett says, 'Men don't buy a cow if they can get the milk for free.' "
"Gross."
Just then Vic glanced in her rearview mirror. "Mignon!"
Mignon pressed her lips together, raising her eyebrows. "You wouldn't take me!"
Vic pulled the car over.
Chris twisted around. "Oh, boy."
"Well, everyone in school has their ears pierced. I mean, like, I am the only weirdo, chickenshit. Even Buzz Schonfeld has one ear pierced like the baseball player, what's-his-name."
"Your name is shit." Vic's face flushed crimson. "Goddammit, Mignon, Mom will never believe I didn't have a hand in this."
In Mignon's ears were two waxed strings, a tiny knot tied in each of the equally tiny loops.
Chris reached for them. "Is this fish wire?"
"I don't know what she put in there
. She told me to keep moving it around. See?" Mignon tugged on the wax string, wincing as she did.
"How much money do you have in that ratty purse?" Vic reached around to grab Mignon's purse, but Mignon quickly clamped her hands on it.
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