‘It’s th’ gospel truth. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, four hours a day. If you’d like to do it, you may start anytime.’
There was a small light in Coot’s eyes, but his passenger didn’t say anything right away.
‘I was thinkin’ I had to talk to Mama about it.’
For a long time after his own mother’s death, he remembered thinking the same thing.
‘But I guess I can start right off.’
‘Ten to two,’ he said.
‘I’ll start next day you an’ y’r dog are there.’
‘Thursday.’
Coot appeared thoughtful again.
‘Do you think when we’re workin’ an’ all, that maybe we could . . . have some fun that is funny?’
‘I can just about guarantee it,’ he said.
• • •
TWENTY-SEVEN PEOPLE GATHERED, frozen as popsicles, beneath a small tent whipped by the wind. In the old days, they couldn’t bury until spring when the ground thawed. Thank heaven for the backhoe, which got the job done.
‘The Lord be with you!’
‘And also with you.’
The tent shuddered, creaked on its poles.
‘Oh, God, whose mercies cannot be numbered: Accept our prayers on behalf of your servant Beulah Mae, and grant her an entrance into the land of light and joy, the fellowship of your saints; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.’
‘Amen.’
He’d been pretty amazed to see Esther Cunningham and Ray out in this cold, and Esther dressed for what looked like a summer garden party.
‘She’s campaignin’,’ somebody said.
‘Startin’ mighty early. The election idn’t ’til next November.’
‘You have to start early these days.’
‘Esther isn’t starting to campaign,’ said Bill Sprouse. ‘Esther has never stopped campaigning.’
‘Well, there you go,’ he said.
• • •
COOT HAD HOPED people could come to the preacher’s house afterward instead of to Route 4. Thus relieved of carting the whole business to the boondocks, they trekked to Wisteria Lane and did a mighty bit of damage to the offerings.
When their party of twenty-seven gathered in the kitchen and held hands for the blessing, he was surprised by his tears. Not for the dead, no, but for the living, and for how good it was to be alive and together, and to laugh and give thanks.
Chapter Twenty-one
Make it a rule never to give a child a book you would not read yourself.—George Bernard Shaw
He pinned the quote to the corkboard, thinking of Irene McGraw’s wise and charming habit. Irene would be driving Cynthia to Winston-Salem today, for lunch and the eye doctor.
He pinned one contributed by his wife.
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.—Marcel Proust
The corkboard was literally bristling with quotes from customers of every ilk. He stood back and reviewed their dispatches with satisfaction.
• • •
‘VANITA?’
‘Don’t tease me,’ she said. ‘Everybody’s teasin’ me. It’s th’ Palm Beach, I did it in th’ line of duty. You can’t write journalism on a subject you don’t know anything about.’
‘Really,’ he said. Talk about hot off the press. He could smell the ink as Vanita thumped the new edition on the counter.
‘One more week and we’re wrappin’ up your big story! Total votes for Father Tim Kavanagh as of today’s edition—one hundred and ninety-four! Yay-y-y! You’re definitely goin’ to be the town’s leading citizen.’
‘You know, of course, that I’m not the town’s leading citizen, nor do I wish to be.’
‘But why not? There’s no responsibility that comes with th’ recognition, it’s not like it’s a payin’ job an’ you have to clock in every mornin’.’
‘It just feels . . . it’s . . . I don’t deserve the title.’
‘But a hundred and ninety-four people think you do. Plus th’ winner will get a free spray tan treatment! For you, I think Fancy and Shirlene would definitely do th’ Palm Beach, which is their top of th’ line!’
‘So. I’ve been wondering,’ he said, ‘is there any way I can pass the torch to somebody else? I mean, give it to me if you must, but I’ll hand it over to someone more worthy. That would be a story right there.’
‘Who would you hand it to?’
‘I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.’
‘Don’t waste your time, there’s not anybody.’
‘Why not the mayor? That’s about as leading as you can get.’
‘Way too easy. Are you just bein’ humble?’
‘I’m not terribly humble, really. Let’s figure this thing out. I mean, it took off without me being . . . in the saddle, so to speak.’
‘You don’t have to go through a big ceremony or anything. I mean, it’s not like we have a big weenie roast on th’ lawn at Town Hall.’
‘So what will you do to make it . . . official?’
‘Like there’s not a crown or anything. We’ll just run your picture in the paper and I’ll write something really, you know . . .’
‘Embarrassing,’ he said.
She looked bewildered. ‘So you don’t like my idea that united our little town and gave us somethin’ positive to focus on? An’ a way to interact by writin’ in our votes? An’ a way to show respect and admiration for others?’
Vanita was blinking back tears.
‘So, yay,’ she said.
She turned and walked to the door and didn’t look back.
Good Lord. He stood rooted to the spot, then sprinted out the door and down the sidewalk and caught up with her at Sweet Stuff.
‘Vanita! I’m so sorry. I am really, really sorry. I was ungrateful. I hope you’ll forgive me. Please. I’d be honored to, you know . . .’
Vanita beamed—the sun broke forth, birds sang. She gave him a hug.
After five years of so-called retirement, he was once again prey to the stresses of public life.
• • •
HE CALLED HIS WIFE, told her everything.
‘Lighten up,’ she said. ‘Be the leading citizen, for heaven’s sake. Ride in the parade and wave to the crowd. You only live once.’
Fine. Okay. Done. End of sermon.
• • •
TO THE ROAR OF THE VACUUM CLEANER, he read Beulah Mae Hendrick’s obit.
Diligent to honor the deceased, Hessie had included lyrics to the Hendrick family ballad about a Mitford ancestor who shot and buried five AWOL Yankees during the Civil War. There was a brief mention of Tuesday’s graveside service and the ‘wind-tossed’ tent beneath which Beulah Mae ‘lay in eternal rest.’
Dear Vanita
I am sooo glad to share what I do to take care of our own! I have given a good and loving home to sixteen cats and here they are. Have you ever tried to get sixteen cats to stay still for a picture?? That is Elvis in front see his white jumpsuit and I added the rhinestone collar!! Anyways, sorry about all the red eyes my camera is old as dirt%^
He couldn’t do this anymore. He just couldn’t. As for the Hint, it was three home remedies for headaches, but he never had headaches. What they needed around here was some real news. Or maybe not, since that could be pretty frightening stuff.
On Monday, he would call the Charlotte Observer and sign up for a year, an act which would not only illuminate world events, but add serious volume to his stash of fire-starters.
• • •
MARCIE WAS SUBBING FOR HIM from eleven to twelve so he could have an early bite at Feel Good and a private chat with the boss.
‘Don’t stay too long,’ said Marcie, one of Esther Cunningham’s five good-looking daughters and mother of seven. ‘I’ve got to run home and start bakin’ and freezin’ for th’ swearin’-in, then get back to Avis and finish th’ payroll. I’m leavin’ you a note about th’ mice.’
He didn’t question this remark.
‘A prayer breakfast?’ said Wanda. ‘How many?’
‘To begin, five or six. Starting early January. I expect the numbers will grow.’