Mother (22 page)

“Babs?” Pris said. “Are you listening?”

“Why no, I wasn’t.” She gave Pris a sheepish smile.

“Aida? Are you listening?” Prissy crossed her arms.

“Oh, sorry. I was trying to eavesdrop on Geneva-Marie and Burke.” She lowered her voice. “I think he’s tipping the bottle.”

“Shame on you, Aida, for condoning gossip,” Prissy said. “As it says in Proverbs, ‘
For lack of wood the fire goes out, and where there is no whisperer, quarreling ceases
.’”
 

“Oh, Miss Pris, lighten up.” Phyllis laughed. “Without gossip, the sac would be a very dull place.” She stared across the street at the Collins house where Burke tilted a beer, wobbling a bit, while Geneva-Marie glared at him from her table. “I believe you’re right, Aida. I think he’s two sheets to the wind and working on the third.”

“Listen up, ladies,” Priscilla said, her eyes drilling into them. “I’m seeing a lot of problems out here today. People aren’t adhering to our rules. And one of the rules is we don’t call it ‘the sac.’”

Phyllis rolled her eyes again and Prissy glared daggers at her.
 

“Why, whatever do you mean?” Aida asked. “What other rules are being broken?”

“Well, I’m not going to name names but a certain unmarried man on this block got someone else to bake cakes for him instead of doing it himself.”

Babs gasped. “No!”

Prissy’s look could have left a polar bear shivering.
 

“What’s so awful about that?” Phyllis asked. “I didn’t even know there was a rule.”

“Why, Phyllis Welling Stine!” Prissy exclaimed. “It’s in our Morning Glory Circle bylaws, and I pass out a new edition every January. You mean you haven’t reviewed your copy yet?”

“I didn’t know I had one.”

“What about you, Aida?” Prissy asked. “You’ve read them, haven’t you?”

“I … Guess I missed that.”

“Barbara?”

Babs shook her head.

“My Good Lord!” Prissy blew out a load of hot air. “I gave a whole stack of those to Daphene and Delphine Dean to pass out. Why I pay those little good-for-nothings a dime apiece if they didn’t even deliver them! I’ll have to speak to their parents.”

“Be nice,” Aida said. “Those little girls aren’t too bright, you know. You’d be better off paying Billy Sachs. He’s a very reliable young man.”

Prissy made a disgusted sound. “That boy wanted five dollars to do it. That’s highway robbery!”

“No, it’s not.” Phyllis shook her head. “That’s pretty good, actually. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for ten.”

“Obscene. I’ll see that everyone gets a fresh copy myself. And there will be an update. A new rule. No more of this raucous blaring music. It drives away customers.”

Phyllis rolled her eyes yet again. “All I hear is
Candle in the Wind.
Elton John is
hardly
offensive, Prissy.”

“Elton John, not offensive?” Prissy glared. “I don’t think I need to get into the dirty specifics of that fancy Nancy’s lifestyle choices. From now on, there will be no more of this racket. If we
must
have music, it will be family-friendly, and it will be uniform. I don’t want to hear a different song at every house, and neither does anyone else!” Prissy glanced across the street and stared for several moments. “Barbara, Aida, come along with me while I speak with Geneva-Marie about the Ladies Auxiliary.”

Babs followed her gaze. Burke Collins had disappeared; Geneva-Marie was alone, ready to be pounced upon. With a frown for Phyllis, Babs followed Prissy across the street to the Collins house, Aida close behind.

Given that Geneva-Marie was the only woman on the circle who wouldn’t roll over for her, she was Priscilla’s only real rival, and Babs knew Geneva-Marie was going to challenge Pris for president of the Ladies Auxiliary. As they approached, Babs felt her stomach tightening. She looked at Aida, who seemed eager for the drama.

“Geneva-Marie Collins,” said Prissy as they approached the woman’s table of fragrant cinnamon-pecan rolls. “How are you today?”

Geneva-Marie wore a red felt jacket that complemented her glossy dark hair and dark red lipstick.
She looks like a scarlet harlot,
is what Pris always said, but Babs didn’t think so. Next to Candy Sachs, Geneva-Marie was the prettiest woman on the block - and that was just the beginning of Pris’ problems with her.

Geneva-Marie stood. “Priscilla.” She nodded at the women. “Babs. Aida.”

“Hello, Geneva-Marie,” said Babs.
 

“Good day,” said Aida.

“And how are sales?” asked Prissy, craning her neck to examine Geneva-Marie’s product.

“Oh, not too bad. We’re running a little behind and weren’t able to get set up as early as we wanted, but-”

“Yes, I noticed that.” Prissy’s voice frosted the air. “And where is Burke? I thought I saw him a moment ago.” She gave her the snake smile.

Geneva-Marie looked at her well-manicured hands. “He wasn’t feeling well and decided to go inside.”

The poor woman,
thought Babs.
It must be so difficult living with an alcoholic.
 

Prissy made a sympathetic noise. “Is there anything we can do for him? Perhaps he’d like some of my special chicken noodle soup.”

“No, Prissy, it’s fine-”

Pris plowed on. “Aida. Go to the door and ask Burke if he prefers chicken noodle or cream of mushroom.” Geneva-Marie’s eyes shifted nervously. Pris continued. “Both are very good for the stomach, you know.” Prissy turned to Aida and glared. “Aida? Are you listening?”

Aida was staring at the cinnamon rolls, her mouth practically watering. She didn’t respond and Pris repeated the request.
 

“Oh, of course!” Aida bustled toward the Collins home.

Geneva-Marie stood. “I’d really rather you didn’t bother him.”

“Nonsense,” said Prissy. “Burke will just love my soup. I assure you, it will fix him right up.”

Defeated, nervous as a call girl in church, Geneva-Marie sat.

The Dean twins, Daphi and Delphi, came to a stop several yards away, hands clasped. Upon seeing Priscilla, they obviously changed their minds about buying a cinnamon-pecan roll. Babs smiled at them but they stared on with pale blank eyes, then turned and ran, still holding hands. It was probably a good thing. Prissy would surely lay into them for not delivering her bylaws.
Such strange little girls.
Their parents, Earl and Earlene, were odd themselves, very clannish, but the twins were … well, it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them.
Maybe something genetic, a little syndrome of some sort.

“So, Geneva-Marie,” said Prissy, all smiles. “Is there any truth to the rumors I’ve been hearing?”

Geneva-Marie’s eyes darted. “Rumors?”

Prissy was silent just long enough - Babs knew - to make the woman sweat. Babs glanced at the Collins house. Aida was rapping on the front door.

“I hear you’re running for president of the Ladies’ Auxiliary.” Pris’ voice was buttery.

“Yes,” said Geneva-Marie. “I haven’t made the announcement yet, but-”

“I do hope Burke is giving you his full support.”

Something flashed in Geneva-Marie’s eyes. “Of course he is, Priscilla. Why wouldn’t he?”

Prissy laughed. “Well, just seeing you out here by yourself … most of the couples on the circle work
together
on these events. I’d hate to think there was any trouble at home.”

Babs felt sick. She’d expected this to be awkward, but Pris wasn’t even trying to be pleasant.

Geneva-Marie challenged Prissy with an unwavering gaze. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Priscilla. Things are just fine.”

“That’s wonderful, dear,” said Prissy. “Now then, if you
do
win, I certainly hope you’ll have the homeless shelter moved out by the airport.” She wagged a finger at her. “I’ve put a
lot
of work into bringing it this far along, and I’d hate to see my efforts go to the wayside.”

“I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with you on that topic, Priscilla. I don’t feel that-”

“
Feel
? This is a matter for the mind, Geneva-Marie, not the heart.” She tapped her temple then turned to Babs. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Babs was stricken, staring at the house. Aida gave the door another hard rap.
 

Geneva-Marie smiled. “Well, in order for the-”

There was a sudden
Bang!
as the Collins’ front door slammed open. Burke stumbled down the steps toward them, beer in hand. Aida trailed behind him, her face a stark mask of worry as
Candle in the Wind
extinguished, and Billy Joel’s
Big Shot
blasted.

Prissy raised a hand to her throat and gasped.

Geneva-Marie was on her feet, trying to head him off.
 

But Burke plowed past her. “You ladies tried the pecan cookie things?” His words were slurred. “Pretty goddamn fucking good, if you don’t mind my saying so!”

“Burke …” Geneva-Marie tried to corral him, which earned her a hard slap on the ass. “My little lady’s been hard at it all morning and all last afternoon.” He pointed at Prissy with his beer hand. “I hope you ‘preciate all the work she does for you and these goddamn causes of yours, Pris!” He laughed. “Ever goddamn week, it’s something, and ever goddamn week, I say to Genever-Mree, I say, goddamn it, honey, quit participle-tatin’ in these goddamn time-wastin’, money-suckin’ events!” He roared with laughter and gave Geneva-Marie another ass slap. “But she don’t listen, do you honey?”

Geneva-Marie’s cheeks went red with humiliation. “Burke!”

Burke turned to Prissy. “What’s this that Aida here is asking me about
soup?
She says you’re making soup or somethin’?” He took a pull on his beer, teetering a little. “Instead of makin’ me soup, why don’t you stop by the store and buy a new sofa? I’ll give you a helluva deal!”

Prissy cleared her throat. “I heard you weren’t feeling well and thought you’d enjoy some chicken noodle soup. Or perhaps-”

Burke guffawed. “Not feeling well, huh?” He eyed his wife, then leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s her gentle way of saying I’ve got myself shit-faced too early in the day!” Another hearty laugh.

“Burke! That is enough!” Geneva-Marie was mad now, and it wasn’t lost on her husband. “Go. Inside. Right. Now.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

Prissy was rubbing her hair necklace, eyes wide.
 

“Fine,” said Burke in a drunken slur. “Fuck you, too!” He laughed, turned and staggered into the house.
 

“Well,” said Prissy. “I didn’t realize-”

“Just go.” Geneva-Marie stared Prissy down. “Just go.”
She turned and power-walked into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Babs’ heart broke for the poor woman.
 

Prissy clucked her tongue sadly and picked up a pecan roll. “I hope this doesn’t affect her election plans. It certainly reflects poorly on her stability. The poor, poor dear.”
 

Aida’s eyes were wide with excitement. “I’ve never
seen
a man so drunk!”

“Mmm. Delicious.” Prissy turned to Aida and Babs. “Remember, ladies, we mustn’t gossip.” She gave Aida a meaningful look.

Babs looked at Aida and could already see the secret burning a hole in her tongue. Something told her things had transpired exactly as Priscilla had wanted them to. They usually did.  

Claire felt terrible for being so angry at Jason. After going upstairs, she’d had a good cry. She was glad she’d spoken to Dr. Putnam about her emotional swings and had been reassured that they were totally normal and expected. Still, she hated being controlled by her emotions. And control her they had.

She came downstairs with an icy Pepsi for Jason. “I’m sorry,” she said as she placed the cold can in his hand. “Stupid hormones. Forgive me?”
 

He turned in his chair and studied her face a long moment before smiling. “Forgiven,” he said.
 

She rubbed his neck. “Normally, she wouldn’t get under my skin like this. I’ve always prided myself on being impervious to her.”

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” She thought she heard something unpleasant in his voice but decided to ignore it.
It’s probably just my damned hormones again
. “Have you sold any cannoli?”

“Half a dozen each to her friends Babs, Aida, and Phyllis.” He grinned. “I think they’re afraid
not
to buy.”

“I saw Phyllis fluttering around here. I don’t think it’s the cannoli she’s eyeballing.” Claire gave his shoulder a playful squeeze. “I think you have a fan.” She watched a little girl in a green Girl Scout uniform talking to the Lowells next door. She handed over two cookie boxes and took some cash from Crystal then began walking toward them. “There’s a kid who’s going into marketing some day.”

“Hi!” said the little girl. She had long dark braids, dimples, a big smile, and a huge backpack on her back. “My name’s Tracey. Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”

“Is it that time of year already?” Jason dug out his wallet.

“Well, next week, but my mom bought some extra that I could sell myself.”
 

“Do you have any Do-si-dos?” Claire asked.

“Lemonades?” Jason chimed in. “I’ve been fantasizing about citrus all morning. I must have sensed you coming.”

“Yes!” The girl slipped off her pack and opened it. She put a box of each on the table. “Anything else?”
 

“That’s all for now, Tracey,” Claire said as Jason forked over the money. “But come back soon.” She pointed at the garage apartment. “We live up there.”

“Okay!”

“Don’t forget us.”

“I won’t!”

The girl slipped on her backpack and was ready to leave when Mother appeared out of nowhere. Fury blazing in her eyes, she commanded, “Get those cookies off my cannoli table. Right. This. Instant!” Her face was purple with rage, her eyes bulged, her neck pulsed. “And turn down that bull-honking music right now!” she yelled in the Lowell’s direction.

Claire scooped the cookies up and held them close, not willing to get into another tug-of-war with Mother.

Mother turned on the little girl.

“What’s your name?”