Miss Julia Stirs Up Trouble: A Novel (12 page)

(Just as he gave it to me)

Take a large pot and put in a pound or more of good stew meat, cut in chunks and trimmed of fat if you’re a picky eater. Cover with water, add a large onion, quartered, and simmer until the meat is no longer pink. Skim off any scum. Add 1 or 2 large cans of tomatoes. Drain a small can each of green beans, lima beans, and corn niblets, saving the juice (except from the green beans—it’s awful) and add the vegetables to the pot. Add a bay leaf if you have it, and salt and pepper to taste. Cover and let simmer all morning or afternoon.

About an hour before eating, add 1-inch chunks of 2 potatoes and 2 or 3 sliced carrots. Cover and continue simmering until the potatoes are done.

At this point, taste again. You may need to add more salt and a small can of tomato sauce to make it richer. If your tomatoes taste too acidic, as they can at certain times of the year, add 1 teaspoon of sugar, stir, and taste. Keep adding sugar, a little at a time, until it tastes right. Throw out the saved juice. You don’t need it. Remove the bay leaf before serving.

You can add anything else you want to this soup: shredded cabbage, celery, English peas, and so on. You’ll need cornbread to go with it.

It’ll feed Ronnie and me for three or four days, so do the math.

(For heaven’s sake, Hazel Marie, talk to me before you try this. You won’t believe what Ronnie did.)

Rubbing my hands, which were half frozen from handling the hose I’d used to clean the steps, I went into our lovely new library and sank into a leather chair. Resolutely putting any decision about Thurlow’s recipe on the back burner and giving thanks that he apparently hadn’t known about the lessons, I turned my mind to dealing with Hazel Marie’s frenetic household. My first impulse was to go upstairs and discuss the problem with Sam. Or, even easier, go to the kitchen and ask Lillian’s advice.

But I couldn’t move—the whole state of affairs was weighing too heavily on me. Taking one problem at a time, I knew that the only thing under my immediate control was the recipe book and the hands-on cooks. I could table the book and cancel the cooks, which would immediately cut down on the number of people tromping in and out of the Pickens house. And also, I realized, make Granny Wiggins redundant. Hazel Marie would no longer need someone to watch the babies if she didn’t have to be in the kitchen.

But of course she
did
have to be in the kitchen—or
somebody
had to be—which brought up the problem I’d started with: feeding that crowd for as long as James was laid up. And I knew that two or three outstanding meals a week prepared by his wife could go a long way toward keeping Mr. Pickens content. Men do like to come home to a table laden with good food.

Be that as it may, though, good food and plenty of it wouldn’t be enough to balance out the discord in the rest of the house. And that brought me to a decision: The last one in should be the first one out, and that was Brother Vernon Puckett. I didn’t count Granny Wiggins because she was on a trial basis and didn’t live there anyway.

The ring of the telephone startled me and I hurried to the mahogany desk to answer it.

“Julia?” Mildred Allen asked as if she wasn’t sure who had answered.

“Why, hello, Mildred. I hope Hazel Marie told you how much everybody enjoyed your recipe. I know that Mr. Pickens just beams every time he thinks of it.” Actually, I didn’t know any such thing, but it never hurts to be complimentary whenever you can.

“Oh, she told me, and I’m so glad. Ida Lee and I talked about how much we enjoyed the morning, so if you need another lesson just let us know. But, Julia, I want to ask you about something else. Just what kind of preacher is Hazel Marie’s uncle?”

That stopped me for a minute. “Well, uh, why?”

“He called on me a little while ago and I must say he was most pleasant company. I’d never had the opportunity to actually talk with him, but I found him very courteous and attentive, and I’m intrigued by the new ministry he’s planning. So I wonder if you could tell me a little about his background.”

“I would if I could, Mildred. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t know that much about him. All I know is that he and Hazel Marie have had a testy relationship over the years I’ve known her, but if you’re asking about his educational background, I’m not sure he has any.”

“Oh, really? Well, he seemed quite earnest and sincere. I’d go so far as to say
burdened,
and it doesn’t take an academic degree to move a tender heart the way his has been moved for the downtrodden among us.”

“I daresay,” I murmured, wondering what Brother Vern was up to now, although it was plain to me that Mildred’s diamonds had whetted his interest.

“Anyway,” Mildred went on, “he has a special ministry in mind that would benefit the community, but he needs start-up money. I told him I would consider sponsoring him.”

“Mildred,” I said, immediately on my guard, “you’ve put me in a difficult position. I want to be honest with you, but I also don’t want to run Hazel Marie’s uncle down. He’s not well, you know, and for all I know he may have had an awakening that’s put him on a different track.” I paused, wondering how much to say, then decided that I couldn’t hold back. “And of course I don’t want to be unkind, so I’ll put it this way: From the experiences I’ve had with Vernon Puckett, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

Mildred laughed. “Oh, Julia, you don’t mean that. He is so concerned about Hazel Marie, and he’s determined not to be a financial burden on her. And he did tell me about his physical condition, which truly hampers him as far as an active ministry is concerned. But he’s anxious to pull his own weight and become self-sufficient again. And perhaps contribute to household expenses.” She paused as I had, then, as if deciding to say what was on her mind, she lowered her voice and said, “I didn’t know that the Pickenses were under a financial strain.”

“
What!
Did he tell you that?”

“Well, no. But he implied that they were having a hard time making ends meet.”

“The only hard time they’re having is putting up with him.” I was so furious I could hardly speak. “Mildred, don’t be taken in. I assure you that the Pickens family is well taken care of.” But at that point, I had to recalculate. I knew that Mr. Pickens had been reluctant to marry money—I’m speaking of Lloyd’s money, his inheritance from his father, Wesley Lloyd Springer. Which, of course, benefited Hazel Marie as well. I’d assumed they’d come to terms with that, but if they hadn’t, and Mr. Pickens was just bullheaded enough to demand that they live on his income, they might very well be under a financial strain. But I wasn’t about to discuss that with Mildred, and it infuriated me to learn that Brother Vern had brought it to her attention.

And, if it were true, how did Brother Vern know when I didn’t?

After ending the phone call, I tapped softly on the door of the old sunroom upstairs, newly turned into Sam’s office. I rarely disturbed him when he was working on that monumental legal history of Abbot County, which he might never finish, seeing that lawyers and judges kept getting into debt, tax arrears, and general all-around hot water, but this was one of those rare times. “Sam? It’s me.”

“Come in, sweetheart,” he said, opening the door. “I’m glad to see you.”

“I don’t want to interrupt you, but . . .”

“You can interrupt me anytime you want. Here, sit down—I’m more than ready for a break. What’s on your mind?”

I took a seat in a chair beside his cluttered desk, as he got comfortable in the creaky old chair behind it.

“It’s Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens,” I said in a rush. “Plus two babies, Brother Vern, James, Granny Wiggins, and now Mildred Allen. Add on Hazel Marie’s inability to cook decent meals day in and day out, and James’s inability to do for himself, and Brother Vern’s inability to keep his mouth shut. That’s what’s on my mind.”

“Whoa, whoa now,” Sam said, holding his hand up and looking at me over his glasses. “Back up and tell me slow.”

So I did, ending up by saying, “And now Brother Vern has gone poor-mouthing to Mildred, telling her that they’re under a financial strain and he wants to start some kind of new ministry to help out. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I hope you haven’t, because it’s not true, is it? I mean, they have plenty to live on, don’t they?” If anybody knew the true financial situation of the Pickens family, it would be Sam, who, along with Binkie Enloe Bates, was entrusted with the care of Lloyd’s inheritance.

By the time I’d finished, Sam was frowning. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I can assure you that they have plenty to live on. Hazel Marie gets a sizable check every quarter, just as you do. But what she does with it is another matter. She may spend it all on Lloyd, which is what it’s for primarily, or she may be saving it for him—it’s really up to her until he reaches maturity. But you know all that,” he said, absently moving some papers on his desk.

“Well, I think you should talk to Mr. Pickens and find out what’s going on. They’re certainly having unexpected expenses with so many in the house, and he needs to use whatever’s available.” I leaned forward. “Talk to him, Sam. I can’t bear to think of them having money problems when there’s no need for it.”

“No, honey,” Sam said, shaking his head, “it’s not my place to talk to Pickens about his financial affairs. And Binkie would be the one to talk to Hazel Marie. She can reassure her as to how the funds are to be used.” Sam pursed his mouth, tapped a pencil, then looked straight at me. “You do realize, though, that if Hazel Marie is putting it aside for Lloyd because Pickens won’t use it, Brother Vern will consider it ready-made to tap into. If he knows about it, that is.”

“Oh, Sam, she can’t give it to him, can she?” That possibility shot through me like a red-hot poker.

“No, no, she won’t do that.
Can’t
do that without running the risk of losing Lloyd. The court keeps a careful eye on how his money is used while he’s underage. No, what I’m talking about is the stress and strain of having to turn her uncle down if he should learn that that money—which she has access to—is just sitting there.”

“Oh, my goodness, yes,” I said, clearly seeing what Hazel Marie would be in for. “He’d be after her constantly and she’s just gullible enough to
want
to give it to him, but honest enough not to. She’d be whipsawed to within an inch of her life.” Then I saw the solution. “There’s only one thing to do, and that’s to encourage Mildred to sponsor his new ministry—whatever it is. She has more than enough to afford to lose some and, knowing her, she’ll keep him on a short leash anyway.”

“You really want to put your friend in a position to be taken for a ride?”

“I’ve already warned her in no uncertain terms. She knows what I think of him, so my conscience is clear. Now,” I said, rising to take my leave, “I need to find out just what he has in mind for this new ministry and how he expects to make money from it. Whoever heard of an honest ministry making money anyway? And if it involves Hazel Marie in any way, shape, or form, like having Bible studies at her house or anything of the like, we’ll have to put a stop to it.”

“Mildred?” I said when she answered the phone. “It’s Julia again, and I’m wondering if Mr. Puckett told you what kind of ministry he’s thinking of starting.”

“Why, Julia, I didn’t think you were interested. What’s changed your mind?”

“Nothing’s changed my mind and I’m not interested, except insofar as it affects Hazel Marie and her family. That’s why I’m asking. Mildred, she can’t possibly take on another chore, task, or burden, so if he has in mind anything that adds to her load, I’m going to be most upset.”

Mildred laughed. “Well, you don’t have to be upset, because Mr. Puckett’s idea is to rent a place somewhere on the other side of Main Street, maybe near the bus station, to catch, as he says, the wayfarers. He wants a place with a small office he can use to place orders, keep records, and oversee what goes on, all of which will keep him out of the house during the day. Of course he’ll have to hire a few people, although he intends to rely primarily on volunteers for most of the work. He’s not physically able to do any of the actual work himself, you know. He’ll only supervise.”

“I see,” I murmured, picturing Brother Vern enthroned as the ministry executive sitting behind a desk, answering the phone and giving orders. “But I still don’t know the kind of ministry he’s planning.”

Mildred laughed again, enjoying this entirely too much. “Well, you should know,” she said. “He got the idea from you.”

“
Me?
That’s impossible. The only time I’ve spoken to him was to tell him to put some clothes on.”

“Then he must’ve heard it secondhand, because he told me that when he saw Hazel Marie learning to cook, he knew what the Lord wanted him to do. He’s going to open a soup kitchen, Julia, which you have to admit is really needed. And you may not know this, but I’ve been feeling a call to finance some charitable organization. I’ve been awfully lax here lately, and Mr. Puckett’s desire to feed the hungry, both physically and spiritually, sounds like just the thing for me to do.”

I closed my eyes, swaying at the thought of a soup kitchen run by Brother Vern and financed by Mildred Allen. All they needed to do was to rope in Thurlow Jones and use his recipe for Throw-Everything-In Soup.