by Rhett DeVane
Jerry glanced at Mary-Esther then slipped from the kitchen toward the rear of the house.
*
Mary-Esther knelt in front of the old woman and spoke with a soft voice. “Rose, honey. What happened?”
“Eustis has taken ill. He complained he couldn’t catch his breath, and he was sick on his stomach.” She motioned toward the tiny kitchen. “I felt better this afternoon and decided to do a little baking. Eustis loves my sour cream pound cake. I think he had four pieces.”
The old woman smiled. “That’s what he fell in love with me for, so he claims.” Her expression flipped to a frown. “He had me put in a call to the emergency people. I think it was carrying things too far, doing that. All he has is a sour stomach. Nothing a little antacid won’t cure. He insisted, though. Now those nice folks—a lady and a man—are back there checking him over. I hated we made them come out in the cold for such.” She shook a bony finger. “Men aren’t cut out for any kind of discomfort, you know. It’s why the Good Lord made it so a woman would carry a baby.”
A uniformed officer entered the side door, followed by a second man. They disappeared down the hall. Rose followed them with her gaze. “Eustis must be really carrying on, needing such a crowd of folks.”
Jerry returned to the kitchen. He looked Mary-Esther’s way. The grim set of his lips spoke of the events unfolding down the hall.
“You must be the Blount boy,” Rose said when Jerry pulled up a chair next to hers. “Mary-Esther has said such good things about you.”
Rose looked to Mary-Esther. “He’s handsome in that green uniform. I always did like the looks of a man in a uniform.”
“Miz Rose,” Jerry said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“Eustis isn’t insisting on going on over to Tallahassee Hospital, is he? I need to put a stop to this nonsense before it goes any further. He can be such a bother when he’s not feeling well.” She pushed away from the table and started to rise.
Jerry rested a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “No, Miz Rose. Please, sit back down.” He blew out a long breath. “Mr. Eustis has passed on. I am so sorry.”
Rose’s eyebrows crimped together. “What do you mean, telling me such?”
“Ma’am, I would not say this if it wasn’t true. Your husband has passed on.” His voice conveyed a blend of authority and empathy.
Rose’s face blanched. Her lower lip quivered.
“What do we do, now?” Mary-Esther asked Jerry. She smoothed the white curl that had worked its way from Rose’s hairpins.
“We need the name of the funeral home you wish for us to contact, Miz Rose,” Jerry said.
“Funeral home?” Rose blinked and squared her shoulders. “We’ll use the Burn’s boy when the day comes, but why would you need him?”
“Will you stay with her?” Jerry asked Mary-Esther. He stood and left the kitchen again.
Within minutes, the clang of metal and rolling wheels sounded in the entrance way. A suited man with a compassionate expression walked into the kitchen. People in the business of death must sleep fully clothed. How else could they be ready to drop and run at a moment’s notice? Mary-Esther envisioned a funeral home much like a fire station, with rows of tasteful black suits hanging in readiness, along with spit-shined black shoes.
“Joe . . . Joe Burns?” Rose took the funeral director’s extended hand. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”
“Miz Rose. I am so sorry about Mr. Eustis. You may rest assured, I will personally oversee all the details.”
“Now this has gone far enough!” Rose’s voice grew shrill. “Eustis has pulled some pranks on me over the years, but this one beats them all.”
The gurney made the turn with its cargo. Rose stood and lunged for the edge of the wheeled bed with a speed unexpected in someone her age and level of disability. “Eustis, this is absurd. Get yourself up from there and stop this foolishness!”
Before any of the attendants could react, Rose grabbed the sheet and flung it back to reveal her husband’s lifeless body. She stood motionless for a second then reached out and touched his face. Rose jerked her hand back as if it had encountered searing heat rather than the cooling stillness of death.
Mary-Esther circled an arm across the old woman’s shoulders and gently guided her away from the gurney. “Let’s sit down, Rose. I’m not going to leave you. I will be right here.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Mary-Esther marveled at the management of death in a small town. By mid-morning of the next day, local cooks arrived with their contributions: fried chicken, chicken ’n’ dumplings, beef stew, bowls of cooked, farm-raised vegetables, cold cuts, layered cakes, pies, and endless casseroles smothered with melted cheddar cheese. Other townsfolk brought paper towels and napkins, disposable utensils, hot and cold cups, coffee supplies, jugs of iced tea, and soft drinks.
Mary-Esther submerged her hands in a sink filled with bubbly warm water. Bits of ham and waterlogged flecks of lettuce clung to her skin. She looked up when she heard someone enter the kitchen.
“Where would you like this?” Hattie stood at the kitchen threshold, a foil-wrapped container in her hands. “It’s a hash brown casserole.”
Mary-Esther motioned with a tip of her head toward the countertop beside her. “Anywhere over here. Make a spot.”
Hattie shifted two glass dishes and set down the casserole.
Mary-Esther rinsed the suds from her hands and dried them on a paper towel. “Nice of you to bring food, Hattie. I didn’t realize you knew Eustis.”
“Everyone knows everyone in this town. Mr. Eustis was just always here, you know. Like a number of people Mom and Daddy knew, so many of that generation are leaving us.”
Mary-Esther stretched to find words, any words. Fatigue threatened to drop her.
“How’s Miz Rose holding up?” Hattie asked.
“Reality is beginning to sink in. I spent the night on the couch, and she was up and down all night. I wished I had something to help her sleep. The strongest thing I had to offer was aspirin.”
“I can speak to Doc Ricks and see if he can prescribe a mild sedative. I’m sure Rose is a patient there. Everyone in town has gone to the clinic at one time or another, even if they have a doctor in Tallahassee or Marianna. I’ll stop by there after I leave here.”
Mary-Esther tucked a sprig of hair behind one ear. “That would be great. I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“How could you? You haven’t been in town long enough to know the ins and outs.”
Mary-Esther’s gaze roamed around the small kitchen. “Can you believe all this food? We helped each other out in my neighborhood in New Orleans, but nothing like this.”
“It’s something people can do. And it really helps. After Daddy and Mama died, it was so nice to not have to think about making something to eat. Not that any of us had much of an appetite.”
Mary-Esther looked at the line of casseroles. “I’ll have to help Rose get these dishes back to the rightful owners.”
“The cook usually puts a piece of tape with the family name somewhere on the dish.” Hattie picked up several of the containers and looked at the bottoms. “That or it’s printed in permanent marker directly on the outside. Makes it easy for the bereaved family to send thank you cards too.”
Mary-Esther closed her eyes for a second. One more thing to do.
“Got some paper and a pen?” Hattie said.
Mary-Esther rummaged in a jumbled drawer beside the stove and extracted a pencil and yellow note pad. “I’m learning my way around Rose’s house pretty fast.”
“Since I know most of the folks, I’ll check the labels and tell you the first name of the cook. That way, Miz Rose can send out cards later.”
“I may have to do that too. She’s shut down. I helped her bathe this morning. She’s like a little orphaned child.”
“Everyone figured Miz Rose would be the first to go. She’s been sickly for so long. Mr. Eustis took such care of
her. Who would guess he’d be the first?”
Mary-Esther wobbled.
“You really need to get some rest. Why don’t you go on to your apartment? Sarah is with my sister-in-law, and I’ll be happy to stay. I can make this list too. Don’t worry.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Elvina is probably on her way, regardless of her leg. I would put money on it. She prides herself on her funeral food.” Hattie paused, a faint smile lifting her lips. “Aunt Piddie used to kid Elvina about how many funerals she attended. Said Elvina counted them as social functions and had more black outfits than most funeral directors.”
Mary-Esther offered a shaky smile. Hattie held out her hand. “Give me the apron and get your butt out of here. This is your maybe-sister speaking.”
Before she could stop herself, Mary-Esther gave Hattie a hug. Hattie wrapped her arms around Mary-Esther and rocked her side-to-side. Nana Boudreau used to do the same. Loretta never did.
Mary-Esther pulled back.
“Now go.” Hattie tied on the apron and motioned toward the back door with her head.
Mary-Esther trudged up the stairs to her apartment, barely aware of the clear blue, late-autumn skies overhead or the freshening breeze. She pulled off her shoes, piled the pants and shirt on the floor, and flopped into bed in just her underwear. Boudreau demanded a few pats before circling and curling up beside her.
She fell asleep with his purr-vibrating, warm body next to her heart.
*
At the Triple C, Elvina Houston appeared at the arched doorway to the stylists’ room, her aluminum walker leading the way. The usual din of conversation and laughter muted, as if the death of Eustis Herring had cast a somber pall. Two dryers ran, and Mandy and Wanda worked steadily.
“Sure is good to see you up and moving around, Elvina,” Wanda commented. “I know you were tired of that wheelchair.”
Elvina tapped her way into the room and lowered herself into a chair. “As soon as I get my balance back to my satisfaction, I’m kicking this metal contraption to the curb too. I’ll be even better when I can use a cane. That, plus I’m looking forward to moving back into my house.”
“Things aren’t going well at Joe and Evelyn’s?” Mandy talked around a hairpin clamped between her front teeth.
Wanda aimed the pointed end of a rat-tail comb in Mandy’s direction. “You missed your calling, hon.”
Mandy swung her head toward Wanda’s workstation. “What’d I do?”
“You should’ve been a ventriloquist. Never ceases to amaze me how you can carry on a conversation with stuff hanging out of your mouth. I didn’t even see your lips move.”
Mandy plucked the hairpin from her mouth and grinned. “I’ve had lots of practice.”
“I came back here to let you know Mary-Esther called,” Elvina said. “She’s bringing Rose Herring by around eleven for a wash and set.”
Mandy made a clicking noise with her tongue. “That poor, poor woman. I can’t imagine losing someone after . . . how long had they been married?”
“Sixty years, plus. I remember the anniversary party we had for them at the church. Can’t honestly recall if it was last year or the year before.” Elvina repositioned her cast.
“Your foot bothering you?” Mandy asked.
“Not so much anymore. A little toward the end of a day.” Elvina frowned. “It itches like all get out. If I could reach the skin, I do believe I’d scratch it raw as a plucked chicken.”
“You could do like I did when I had mine on a couple of years back,” Mandy said. “I took a coat hanger and straightened it out so I could jab it underneath.”
Wanda flinched. “Sounds painful.”
“Nope. It was close to bliss. Anyone who’s ever had to endure a cast knows what I mean.”
“Sounds a good way to court infection, you ask me.” Elvina smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “To answer your earlier question, Mandy, things couldn’t be better at Joe and Evelyn’s. They’ve treated me like the Queen of Sheba. I want to be back in my own home, is all. Plus, Buster misses me.”
Mandy took a long, appraising look at her patron’s completed style. “You want me to spray it, Miz Beatrice?”
“Lightly, please. I don’t like it so stiff.”
Mandy misted Beatrice Whigham’s hair as if she wielded fairy dust. “There you go.” She detached the drape and spun the chair around to face the mirror to allow a better view of the completed style.
Beatrice reached up and patted the sides as she turned her head from side to side. “Exactly what I had in mind. You always do such a fine job.”
“My pleasure.” Mandy beamed.
Elvina leaned forward to stand, but Mandy motioned her down. “I’ll check her out, ’Vina.”
“Thank you, sugar.” Elvina settled back.
Mandy returned after a few minutes and used a whisk broom and dustpan to collect the snippets of hair at the base of her chair. “Seems to me, from what I’ve been hearing, Mary-Esther is really helping out at the Herring’s.”
Elvina narrowed her eyes. “I may have to change my opinion of her.”
“Well, well. Elvina Houston. What am I hearing? You’re seriously going to cut that poor woman some slack?” Mandy stood with her hands propped on her hips.
Elvina held up a finger. “I like to be certain before I welcome a stranger in with open arms. In this day and time, it’s only prudent. I have to admit, Mary-Esther’s behavior of late has impressed me. She’s stayed with Rose every minute when she wasn’t working at Bill’s, and she’s made sure someone would take a shift when she couldn’t be around.”
Wanda motioned her roller-studded client to the last free dryer. “Pretty admirable, considering she’s only lived here, what, a month or two?”
“Hattie told me Mary-Esther’s tried her best to get Rose to eat,” Elvina said. “Even cooked her some of her grandmother’s recipes.”
“Cajun food? Might be a bit harsh. Her gumbo is really good, but it’s a smidge spicy,” Mandy said.
Elvina drummed her temple with one finger. “It was some kind of potato and chicken soup, from what Hattie described. Rose must have liked it. Hattie said she ate a bowl full. Other than a little dab of scrambled eggs, it’s the only thing Rose has touched since Eustis passed.”
The distinctive whoosh of the front double doors sounded. “I’ll bet that’s them.” Elvina pulled up on the walker and tapped her way into the other room.
After Rose settled into Mandy’s chair, Elvina motioned Mary-Esther back into the front room. “We need to talk.” Elvina pointed to one of the little-used reception room chairs.
Mary-Esther sat down, her face drawn and weary. Elvina felt a rush of compassion. When she managed a comfortable position on the chair next to Mary-Esther, she looked directly into the younger woman’s eyes. “Seems I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I might have misjudged you. You have to understand, Mary-Esther. We look out for one another here. The Davises, Joe and Evelyn, even Holston, though he’s a Yankee; they are like my family. When Piddie passed, God rest her soul, I swore a vow I would look after them.”
“That’s admirable, but—”
Elvina held up a stop-hand. “When you came barreling into town, claiming kinship, my hackles shot straight up. Jake’s much the same way. We were trying to protect them from anyone intent on stirring up trouble.” She paused. “I’ve seen a glimmer of Tillie Davis in you these past few days. You have that same selflessness Tillie had.”
Mary-Esther picked at one of her cuticles. “I wish I could’ve known her.”
“I am sorry for that, if indeed you turn out to be Tillie’s daughter.” Elvina reached over and patted Mary-Esther’s hand.
Mary-Esther glanced toward the door leading into the hair salon. “Elvina, there’s something I have been worrying about, pertaining to Rose.”
Elvina leaned in. She truly lived for good insider information. “You can tell me, honey.�
��
“This man and woman have come to the house since Eustis died. The only thing Rose will tell me is they are relatives of her husband’s.”
“Odd. No one has ever shown up to help them out before.”
“This is the part that concerns me.” Mary-Esther lowered her voice. “Rose had me search in the little fireproof safe in her closet for some paperwork. I came across this document. I know I shouldn’t have read it, but I did. Thought it might be what she was looking for, the paid-in-full funeral arrangements she and Eustis had made a couple of years back. But it was some kind of legal trust, and the trustee was listed as a Jonathan Watson.
“Later, when I convinced Rose to lie down and rest, she started babbling about some cousin urging her to sell the house and move into an assisted living facility. Might not be a bad idea. It’s not really for me to say. But I got an uneasy feeling about it. I’ve seen how relatives come crawling like rats drawn to cheese after a death in a family.”
Mary-Esther picked at the torn cuticle until a bead of blood appeared. “Frankly, I’m afraid for Rose.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“What’s to become of my lovely dolls?” Rose asked. She stood at the entrance to the kitchen wearing nothing but a thin cotton nightgown, feet bare. Her white hair stuck out in unruly tufts.
Mary-Esther looked up from the book in her hands. “Oh, Rose. You’re going to catch a chill!”
Rose shuffled over and slumped into one of the chairs next to the kitchen table. “Whenever I look around, all I see are their sweet faces staring back at me.”
Mary-Esther jumped up, returning shortly with a pair of slippers and a thick robe. She urged the old woman to stand long enough to don the robe then helped her put the slippers on, one foot at a time. “Would you like some breakfast? I can cook eggs, soft-scrambled like you enjoy them. I have a pot of coffee on.”