Miss Julia Hits the Road (10 page)

“That’s an excellent idea,” I said, surprised that I hadn’t thought of it myself. “And we’ll certainly pursue it. Well, on second thought, I think the people they build those houses for have to help with the building. From what I saw at the meeting last night, most of them wouldn’t be able to hit a nail with a sledgehammer. But it’s still a good thought, Little Lloyd. Maybe,” I went on, musing over possibilities, “maybe there’re individuals or groups in town who’d sponsor a tenant and help get a particular house built.

“Thurlow Jones, for instance!” I said with sudden inspiration. “Lord knows he’s got the money, and this is just the sort of thing that might interest him. Although, with him, you never know.”

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” Little Lloyd said, “but he’s kinda strange, isn’t he?”

“Well, he has his quirks, that’s for sure. Still, he’s worth approaching for a sizeable donation to our efforts. Although I’d hate to be the one to do the approaching.”

“I bet you could talk him into it, if anybody could,” he said, and I smiled because I thought I could, too. Then he propped his chin on his hand and went on. “Miss Julia? Do you think that spring they were talking about really can renew a man’s strength?”

“Lord, Little Lloyd,” I said, my mind going ninety miles an hour, trying to think how to answer him. I started to tell him to ask his mother about things like that, but that would’ve just piqued his interest even more. I just had to give him a straight answer and hope he’d let it drop. “Don’t pay any attention to old wives’ tales like that, or old men’s tales, either.”

“Well, I was just wondering if it would make your muscles bigger.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” I said, hoping he didn’t have the specific muscles that those old men were referring to in mind. There are some things I just couldn’t discuss, regardless of the company. “Listen, people’re always looking for a quick fix and, believe me, they’re not going to find it in water bubbling up from a cow pasture.”

He grinned and said, “
I
sure wouldn’t want to drink it.” Then he got up from the table and put his cup and saucer in the sink. “I think I need some cereal. You want some, too?”

“No, thank you, but I’ll fix us some toast. I declare,” I said as I rose from the table, “we’re going to need all the nourishment we can get to face this day. The biggest problem, Little Lloyd, is going to be getting the whole town behind any kind of plans we come up with. Abbotsville is not noted for the kind of local charity we’re thinking about. Everybody gives to the United Fund and figures they’ve done their civic duty.”

Little Lloyd put down the cereal box and looked me straight in the eye. “Will it be because all those people on Willow Lane are black?”

“Oh, Lord, child,” I said, just stunned at his prescience. “I hope not, but if it is, then all the more reason for us to show them that charity begins at home, regardless of who happens to live in that home.”

I got the butter dish and a jar of grape jelly from the refrigerator, still thinking of the ugly problem that Little Lloyd had brought to the fore.

“You know,” I said, turning from the open refrigerator door, “I really don’t think that who those people are will affect the town’s generosity. No, I think it’s more likely that some will resent being asked for contributions of any kind, for any reason. There’re some people who believe what they call hand-outs are inherently wrong and encourage divorce, delinquency and a general deterioration of the American way of life. Until, that is, they need some help themselves. Then they’re quick to hold their own hands out.”

I pushed the refrigerator door closed with my hip, almost dropping the butter dish in the process. “That attitude, Little Lloyd,” I went on, “is what we have to overcome.”

“Well, my word, Miss Julia. How’re we going to do that?”

“It’s what I’ve been studying on all night,” I told him. “And I have at least one idea, which I’ll tell you about when your mother comes down. I want to see what she thinks about it.”

Hazel Marie came into the kitchen dressed for the day in a dark green pantsuit with a matching sweater. Her blonde hair was pulled back and up, making her look trim and fashionable—a far cry from the way she’d looked before I’d taken a hand in her shopping habits. The 18-karat gold earrings and necklace didn’t hurt her overall appearance, either, but none of it looked suitable for a moving day.

“Morning,” she said, patting Little Lloyd’s head as she passed him on her way to the coffee pot. “Lillian told me last night when J. D. and I took her upstairs that she’d been in such a turmoil that she’d packed up all of her clothes, and Coleman already loaded them in a truck he rented. So I’m going shopping for her this morning, but I’ll need to make a list of the basics. Will you help me, Miss Julia, so I won’t forget anything?”

“Of course, I will. But you mean she doesn’t know where her clothes are?”

“Coleman must’ve taken them out along with the other boxes,” Hazel Marie said as she reached for a cup and saucer. “And she doesn’t want to ask him to unload everything to find the right box.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get too much if I were you, since we’ll have to guess at sizes. Unless you think we should wake her up and ask her what she wears.”

“I don’t think so.” Hazel Marie put a slice of bread in the toaster and waited for it to pop up. “I looked in on her before I came downstairs and she’s sleeping like a baby.”

“All right, then,” I said. “If you’ll take Little Lloyd to school on your way, I’ll stay here until she gets up. Then I’ll take her to Willow Lane and be sure those men get everything.”

Little Lloyd looked up from his cereal. “I’d sure like to go and see Miss Lillian’s house before it’s gone.”

“To tell the truth,” I said, “I’m not looking forward to going at all. But I know Lillian needs to be there. I don’t expect it’ll be the last time we’ll go, Little Lloyd, so you’ll get your chance later today.

“Now, Hazel Marie,” I went on, “I came up with an idea last night about how we can start organizing a community effort to raise money. What do you think of having a home and garden tour?”

“You mean of this house?”

“Well, of course this house would be included. But I mean having several of the nicer homes in town open to the public. For a fee, of course. People just love to see how other people live, what they have in their homes, how they’re decorated and so on. What do you think?”

Hazel Marie brought her toast and coffee to the table and sat down. Then she drummed her fingers on the table and looked thoughtful. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see inside the Whitaker house. If we could get that on the tour, everybody would buy tickets.” She picked up the toast and bit into it. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. What other houses could we get?”

“We’ll need to think about that. I know a lot of people who’d love to be included, but whose houses are just not up to par.”

“Oh!” Hazel Marie said, apparently having a sudden inspiration. “Let’s see if we can get that real modern house with all the windows, up on the side of the mountain. Did you ever find out who’s building it?”

“Some retired football player, I heard,” I said. “No telling how it’s decorated, since it’s so stark on the outside. It doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

“Well, me either,” Hazel Marie said. “But if a celebrity has moved to town, we ought to try to get his house on the tour. Everybody’ll want to see inside, even if it’s awful.” She chewed a bite of toast, swallowed, and grinned. “
Especially
if it’s awful. And the publicity will be wonderful. Just think, we can say something like ‘Visit the home of the Home Run King.’ Everybody’ll buy tickets.”

“Ma-ma,” Little Lloyd groaned, shaking his head. “You don’t have home runs in football.”

“Well, you know what I mean.” Hazel Marie was not in the least abashed. She turned to me and said, “What do you think about trying to get that house? It is
the
most unusual house in town, and I think it would be a great drawing card.”

“I expect you’re right,” I said. “More’s the pity. I wonder about their yard, though. The last time I had my hair done, I heard that they’re bringing in huge boulders for their landscape, which doesn’t strike me as any kind of design at all.”

“You’re going to have gardens, too?” Little Lloyd asked. “Lots of leaves falling this time of year, and not much blooming. At least, not in our yard.”

The child continued to amaze me with the things he came up with. “You’re absolutely right,” I told him. “And the weather might not be conducive to wandering around outside, either. But we need something else to make the tour really attractive.”

“I know!” Hazel Marie said, splashing coffee as she set the cup down. “It’s not that long until Christmas. Why don’t we see if the garden club would decorate the homes for the holidays?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! By the time we get this organized, it’ll probably be November, and that’s perfect timing. And I know the garden club would love to do it. We’ll get the newspaper to print pictures of the winning arrangements and decorations. Most of the club’s members already know how to plan this kind of thing. You know, they used to have their shows in various homes back when I was a member. I need to call Helen Stroud. I think she’s still their president.”

“I didn’t know you were in the garden club, Miss Julia,” Little Lloyd said. “You don’t do much gardening.”

“Why, I certainly do. Don’t you see me out in the yard every time Raymond comes, telling him what to do?”

“Oh, yessum, I forgot about that.”

“Besides, the reason I resigned was that it got to be too much for me. They were into all these modernistic arrangements, with one stalk and one bud sticking up out of a piece of driftwood. And some just wanted to talk about bonsai and such. Nothing at all that would fit into my traditional decor, so I just lost interest.” I stopped, recalling some of the meetings I’d been to. “Then there were always some who were into growing orchids and wanted every program on that. And LuAnne Conover had a thing about African violets, and I hope I never have to hear another word about African violets. Besides,” I went on, smiling at Little Lloyd, “around that time you and your mother came along, and I decided I’d rather grow little boys than flowers any day. Especially African violets, which always need more water, or less; I never could get it right.”

Lillian pushed through the swinging door, drawing our attention. She looked considerably the worse for the wear, her hair frizzy and standing out from her head and the dress she’d worn to last night’s meeting misbuttoned so that it hung crooked and off-center. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, as if she’d not had enough sleep. But if the snoring I’d heard during the night was any indication, she’d had plenty.

“Y’all want some breakfast?” she asked, her hand reaching for the back of a chair to steady herself.

“We’re having it,” I said, getting up to lead her to the table. “It’s you who needs feeding. Sit down here before you fall.”

Little Lloyd jumped up to get her a cup of coffee, and Hazel Marie started two pieces of toast.

“You feel all right, Miss Lillian?” Little Lloyd asked as he put the coffee in front of her. “You don’t look so good.”

Trust a child to speak from the heart and tell the truth, for Lillian was nowhere near the neatly combed and pressed person she usually was. In fact, I’d never seen her in such an untidy state.

“I got a real bad headache,” she said, leaning her head on one hand while pushing away the coffee cup with the other. “An’ dizzy, my Lord, I might never get myself straightened out.”

“You need some aspirin,” Hazel Marie said, a tiny smile playing around her mouth, which I thought entirely inappropriate. “I’ll get you some, and I think there’s some tomato juice in the pantry. Little Lloyd, would you look for it and put some ice in a glass, while I get the aspirin?”

“You’ve had a shock,” I told Lillian. “And it’s no wonder you’re feeling under the weather.”

“I feel worse’n that,” she mumbled.

“I expect you do. We’re all feeling the effects. But Hazel Marie’s going to get you some clothes, and when you feel up to it, I’ll take you home for your last-minute things. Who knows, Lillian, you might enjoy moving to a new place, and all this anxiety will’ve been for nothing.”

I stopped then, realizing that I was sounding like a Pollyanna, which was not like me at all. If there was one thing I’d prided myself on ever since Wesley Lloyd had been gone, it was seeing things as they are and speaking out on them when necessary. There’s nothing worse, to my way of thinking, than someone who puts a happy face on reality and goes through life in a hypocritical haze.

I know what I’m talking about because I’d been one of those people for most of my life. But no longer, because if you can’t face reality yourself, sooner or later somebody’ll come along and shove it in your face, as happened to me.

“Lillian,” I said, determined to help her rather than smooth over the truth with pious platitudes. “I’m going to quit downplaying what’s happened. I think you’re going to have to face the fact that your house is all but gone. Surely, Sam would’ve let us know if he’d come up with something to stop the destruction. So you’ve got to prepare yourself for the worst, and if it’s better than that, well, that’s all to the good.”