Perfect Piece

by Rebeca Seitz

  Then she glanced at her alarm clock and it came rushing back to her. This was her morning to bond with Zelda. Meg groaned. Why couldn’t Zelda like doing something in the middle of the day? Must the woman choose something that required a person to get up early on the weekend and present herself to the public?

  Shaking her head, Meg got out of bed and headed for the shower. She needed the smell of soap and shampoo to wake up her senses and prepare her for the day.

  An hour later she pulled the car into Kendra’s driveway. She’d considered taking the van, but Jamison might decide to take the kids somewhere and that meant he’d need the van. So she drove along in his car, breathing in the scent of his cologne, which permeated the car’s interior.

  Kendra came outside before she’d even cut the engine.

  “Wow, look who’s on the ball today.”

  Kendra pulled the visor down and flipped open the mirror. She folded the scarf in her hands once and began arranging it around her hair. “I cannot believe we agreed to do this. Did we lose our minds?”

  Meg backed the car out of the driveway and into the road. “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought.”

  Meg turned on the radio, hoping for some music to lift their moods and prepare them for the day ahead.

  “There isn’t enough music in the world, sister.” Kendra finished with her hair and put the visor back into position. “Only an insane woman gets up at this hour on a Saturday to go looking through things that other people have the good sense to throw out.”

  “Not throw out. Put up for sale.”

  “Because they hope to make a little money before they throw it out.”

  “I’ll grant you that.”

  Kendra’s hands flew all over as she talked. “And yet we think we should haul ourselves out of bed and go meet a stepmother we don’t even like all that much to go do this. I ask again, have we lost our minds?”

  “Yes.” Meg looked across the seat. “But we’ve got to befriend her sometime, and I for one am sick and tired of feeling awkward about scrapping in my own mother’s studio. So let’s put on our happy faces and get this done.”

  Kendra crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “I don’t get why Tandy and Joy got out of this.”

  “Because they’re obviously smarter than we are.”

  Kendra’s laugh overrode the music. “You’ll never get me to admit that in their presence.”

  “Me, either. You tell them I said it, I’ll tell them you’re a liar.”

  “Deal.”

  They arrived at the white gates with a black S on the front and Meg turned down the drive to the family house. She wound down the gravel path, noting the bare fields. Daddy must have harvested the winter wheat. Time to plant some corn.

  Zelda sat in a rocker on the front porch, looking like a countrified Buddha. She was dressed in a white button-up shirt—the buttons, of course, turquoise—and blue jeans. Big, silver hoops dangled from her earlobes. They matched the circles on her wrists.

  “What is with her turquoise obsession?” Kendra hissed.

  “Remember, we’re being nice today. Trying to make friends.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m with you.”

  Zelda came down the porch steps and had the back door open before Kendra could get out of the front.

  “Oh, I’ll move back there, Zelda.”

  “Don’t you worry yourself, Kendra.” The car rocked as Zelda got in. “I’m fine back here. Get to pretend like I’m being driven around all over town by hired help.”

  Meg decided to take that for a joke rather than a snub. “In that case, where can I take you, Mrs. Sinclair?”

  Zelda’s laughter rang out. “Oh, honey, let me check the paper again.” Meg heard the rustle of the newspaper and adjusted the rearview mirror to keep an eye on her stepmother.

  “I think we should start over on K Street and work our way through town. Then, if we have time, there are a couple of sales over in Greenfield that sound promising.”

  “Promising how?” Meg steered the car back down the driveway and onto the two-lane country highway.

  “They’ve got antiques and Depression glass. Generally speaking, anybody with Depression glass has some good quality furniture and knickknacks to go along with it.”

  “All right then, let’s hit the ones in Martin and see if we need to head on down the highway.”

  For the next hour and a half Meg and Kendra tagged along behind Zelda, hitting yard sale after garage sale after yard sale. By the time they’d finished the ones in Stars Hill, Kendra knew she needed either caffeine or a bed.

  “Uncle!” she said, getting into the car after the tenth sale.

  Zelda buckled her seat belt. “What?”

  “She’s crying uncle,” Meg explained. “It means she gives up. And I’m with her.”

  “You girls in need of a break?”

  Meg directed the car toward Clay’s. “I just need some caffeine and I’ll be fine.”

  “Me, too.” Kendra cut her eyes at Meg.

  Meg clearly read the message. What were they thinking? Zelda’s enthusiasm for yard sales rivaled the sisters’ enthusiasm for scrapbooking. Oh well. Once they got inside Clay’s, they could “realize” they were hungry and order accordingly. They shared no further conversation until Meg parked the car outside of Clay’s.

  “Y’all go right on in, I’ll wait here.”

  Meg twisted in her seat. “You’re not coming in?” Thoughts of a plate piled with eggs and bacon went flying out the window.

  “No, by the time I get these old bones in there, you two can have your caffeine and be back in the car, headed to Greenfield. If you’ll be so kind as to bring me a cup of coffee and a couple packets of sweetener, I’ll be fine.”

  Meg dared not look at Kendra, knowing her sister had probably intended to eat breakfast as well, not just grab a cup of go-juice. “Um, okay, then. Be right back.”

  The sisters left the car and went into Clay’s.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been homicidal, but I’m getting there,” Kendra said. “How many sales did she say there were in Greenfield?”

  They wove their way among the tables to the bar. “‘A couple,’ whatever that means.”

  “A couple better be two or less. I think we picked the wrong way of bonding with Zelda.”

  Meg went behind the counter and fixed Kendra a Diet Dr. Pepper and herself a Coke. “I think you’re right.”

  “Hey, what are you doing behind my counter?” Clay came through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  “It was either this or die of exhaustion in your dining area. I thought you’d prefer this.”

  He nodded. “Ah, yard saling didn’t go well?”

  “It’s still going.” She put Kendra’s drink in front of Kendra and went to get Zelda’s coffee.

  “You’re not done?”

  “No. We’re going to Greenfield now. Kendra and I needed a jolt, though, to keep up with her.”

  Clay threw back his head and laughed.

  “Hey, this is not funny, mister,” Meg grumbled.

  “Yeah, you tell him,” Kendra agreed.

  “That woman is three decades older than the both of you and she’s running circles around you. I’m sorry, ladies, but that’s funny in my book.”

  Meg put a lid on Zelda’s coffee. “Get a different book.”

  Clay clamped his lips together, but the mirth still lit his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Meg picked up her Coke and headed for the door. Kendra slowly followed her.

  “Next time we take her to the movies,” Kendra said.

  “Definitely.”

  They walked back into the bright sunshine of the day and got into the car. Meg thought about the different ways she could get out of going to Greenfield. She could claim a headache. Given her recent history, they’d believe it in a heartbeat. Or she could say she was simply too tired. They’d probably buy that, too.

  But both of those required her assu
ming the identity of the recovering surgery patient again and she’d just gotten out of that mode last week. She didn’t feel like reassuming the role, even if it would get her out of going to Greenfield to paw through a few more people’s junk.

  She drove down Lindell and turned right on University. Ferns and petunias dotted the porches of the various houses along the way. Summertime in Stars Hill—what a gorgeous sight to behold.

  Turning left onto Elm, she said, “So, Zelda, Joy told me she brought you some of her hosta. Did you have any luck with them?”

  “I sure didn’t. Planted those cuttings she brought over in the backyard. I knew I shouldn’t have planted them at all. No offense, honey, but Joy presented those things to me like they were the Queen’s jewels themselves. Should have told her thank you but no thank you because I could tell they meant a lot to her. But I tried anyway and, wouldn’t you know it, a week later they shriveled up and refused to grow. I had to dig them up and throw them out before Joy could see I’d killed her prized plants.”

  Meg cut a look at Kendra, whose eyes had gone wide.

  “You mean they died?” Kendra said.

  “Deader than a doornail, and for the life of me I don’t know why. I had your daddy look at them and he didn’t have a clue, either. And you girls know as well as I do that your daddy can grow a rosebush in the Arctic. You ask me, those hosta had gotten used to the fancy soil over at Joy’s and went into shock when I plopped them down into our everyday dirt.”

  She had a point there. Meg doubted the dirt in Momma’s old flower beds had been tended to since she died. Daddy spent all his outdoor time working on the farmland, not the land up by the house. He’d always said that was Momma’s territory.

  That meant that, no matter what Zelda plopped into the ground there, it would more likely than not die. Poor Zelda hadn’t had a chance from the get-go with those plants.

  “Have you tested the soil?” Meg looked in the rearview mirror to gauge Zelda’s reaction.

  “Tested the soil? What does that mean?”

  “You know, sent in a sample to the ag boys and asked them to tell you what it needed to prepare it for planting.”

  “I didn’t know such a thing existed.”

  “Oh, yeah. And it’s not expensive either. I think it’s around five dollars. They’ll come out and get the sample themselves then, a week or two later, bring out a report and tell you what to add to the dirt to make it a heaven for plants.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I sure wish I had known about that before I put those hosta in the ground.”

  Meg laughed. “I’m sure Joy will understand if you tell her what happened. She may even offer to bring you more cuttings once the dirt’s been prepared.”

  “I’m not about to tell that woman I killed her plants.”

  “Uh, Zelda,” Kendra cut in. “I’m fairly certain she knows.”

  They rode for a moment in silence. “Said something to you, did she?” Zelda finally said.

  Meg heard the longing in Zelda’s tone and frowned. Maybe Zelda really did want to be friends with the sisters. “She may have mentioned that she hadn’t seen the plants around the house anywhere.” Meg wished now she hadn’t brought it up. She didn’t want to make things difficult between Joy and Zelda. Especially if Zelda had made such an effort. But being honest was always the best policy, right?

  Zelda’s hearty chuckle put Meg’s worries to rest. “I might have known she’d check. Thank goodness she didn’t come over and see them lying dead in the ground. I think that might have been the death knell for any chance at a friendship.”

  Zelda’s voice once again told Meg that her stepmother seemed to be after a real relationship with the sisters. She resolved to try a little harder to befriend the woman. “Probably.” Meg took a long drink of her Coke. Joy took her plants as seriously as she did everything else in her life. From the high-end artwork carefully selected and placed throughout her home to the choices of flooring, molding, and light fixtures, Joy researched everything to death and did her dead-level best to settle on the best of whatever it was. Meg used to think she did it for show—to let the rest of them know she was somehow better than them. She’d since figured out Joy just cared a whole lot about quality and would rather do without than make-do with something less.

  Meg swallowed. So things between Zelda and Joy might not be the best right now, but the sisters had to start somewhere in forming a relationship with Zelda. If the past few weeks had taught her anything, it was that families had to love each other no matter what they thought of each other. Heaven knew she hadn’t exactly been the Meg they all loved before the surgery. Yet the sisters still showed her grace and love, and she doubted any of them had even thought of pulling away from her forever.

  Daddy had made Zelda family. She was Daddy’s choice. That meant the sisters needed to try to love her and befriend her even if she wasn’t the person they’d have picked. And the bridge-building might as well start with her. “Okay, we’re coming into Greenfield. Which way to the first sale?”

  “Go through town and turn left at the red light. Then it’s four streets down and turn right, fifth house on the left.”

  “Red light, left. Got it.” Meg tapped Kendra on the leg. “You awake over there?”

  Kendra lifted her head from where she’d rested it against the window. “Yep. Ready and rarin’ to go.”

  Meg looked at her sister’s heavy-lidded eyes. “Oh yeah, you look it. Drink your DP.”

  Kendra obediently took a drink and swallowed.

  Zelda leaned forward to better see Kendra. “How about you sit in the car for this one, finish that drink, and you can join us on the next one?”

  Kendra didn’t hesitate. Her head came back to the window and her eyes closed. “Good idea.”

  Meg stopped at the red light and looked in the mirror to meet Zelda’s eyes. “That was nice of you.”

  “I have a moment every now and then.”

  She started to respond but stopped when Zelda’s eyes widened—first with surprise, then something that might have been panic.

  “You know, now that I think about it, this first sale doesn’t sound as promising as I thought. How about we skip it and go to the next one instead?”

  “But we’re already over here near it. Just a few streets away.” Meg looked through the windshield, trying to find whatever it was that had made Zelda’s expression change. “Is something—”

  And then she saw it. Wimpy’s. One block over from them. Sitting like a giant blinking sign in the parking lot— her van.

  A thousand questions collided in her mind at once. Was that really her van? It couldn’t be, even though her license plate was clearly on the front of it. But if that was her van, where were the kids? Who was watching them while Jamison came over here for breakfast? And what was he doing here? He said he came over during her recovery, but that was over. Besides, they had Jenny now. No reason in the world for him to be at Wimpy’s, she didn’t care how good the coffee tasted.

  Had he brought the kids with him? They didn’t drink coffee. Okay, that’s a dumb thought. Get a grip, Meg.

  A horn honked behind her and she jumped. The light had turned green and here she sat like a frightened statue over … what? Nothing. She was jumping to conclusions and she knew it.

  She turned left and then right into the Wimpy’s parking lot.

  “Oh, honey, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

  There was a note in Zelda’s voice … Meg looked at her, saw the worry pinching her brow, and it dawned that Zelda knew something—which meant there was something to know.

  Meg let the engine die, then turned in her seat. “Zelda, do you have something you should tell me?”

  Zelda looked like a rabbit who’d run out into the middle of a freeway. “Um …”

  “Please, you need to tell me whatever it is.”

  “Look, let’s just go on back home. I don’t need to go to these yard sales, I’ve got enough junk—”

  �
��Zelda Sinclair, spill it or you’ll be walking back to Stars Hill.”

  Her stepmother turned to look out the window. Meg watched her debate with herself, the war playing out clearly on her facial features. A tick even began to jump above her left eye.

  “Come on, Zelda. If I knew something, I’d tell you.”

  That did it. Zelda’s eyes held tears when they came back to Meg’s. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean a thing, Meg.”

  “Then it won’t matter if you tell me.”

  “I came over here a couple of weeks ago. To go to a yard sale. The day y’all came over to scrapbook. Remember?”

  “Sure.”

  “I came down here, just like we did, and I saw Jamison going into Wimpy’s. It struck me as odd—you know, why would he come all the way here for breakfast when he can get it at Clay’s—so I stopped and went inside.”

  “And what did you see?” She’d deal with the fact Zelda had spied on her husband later.

  “He sat at the end of the bar, drinking coffee and talking to the waitress.”

  Meg was fine until the waitress part. “What do you mean ‘talking to the waitress’?”

  Zelda’s gaze went to the floorboards and her shoulders slumped. “I mean what you think I mean. They were laughing it up and carrying on and I felt like they knew each other somehow, or were sure enjoying each other’s company.”

  Meg struggled to maintain a stoic exterior. It wouldn’t do for her to break down here in the middle of the parking lot in front of Zelda. Besides, all Jamison had done was talk to a waitress. Big deal.

  But it hurt like the dickens. The most special part of their marriage was their ability to talk to each other, to have long conversations. He’d been sharing that with someone else?

  No wonder the receipt Meg found had been for one. The other woman worked here. Of course she wouldn’t have to purchase something to spend time with Jamison.

  Then again, Meg had been pretty awful to live with for a while. She didn’t even like herself during those weeks of recovery. It made perfect sense for Jamison to go elsewhere for conversation and laughter. He certainly couldn’t get those things at home. She couldn’t blame him for doing this.