The Pecan Man (6 page)

“How come?”

I thought about this a minute.
It was a perfectly reasonable question and it had a perfectly reasonable
answer. I was sure of it.

“Well, it’s important to meet
the right people if you want to increase your business.”

“Can I have some more polish,
please?” Danita spoke up from the other end of the table. She had finished her
stack of serving pieces. The quiet ones always finish first, I’ve learned.

“‘
May
I have some more
polish?’ is how you ask that question, Danita.”

I ignored the roll of eyes as I
passed the jar of silver polish to ReNetta and nodded toward her twin sister.
ReNetta held it out for Danita, but kept on with the conversation.

“So, you used the silverware to
meet people?” ReNetta had a knack for making me feel ridiculous, although I’m
certain that was not her intent. She was genuinely puzzled by the whole idea.

“Okay, Miss Nosy, enough with
the questions. I’m going to tell you a story. You just listen and then, if you
have any questions, I’ll be happy to try to answer them.”

“You gonna tell a story?”
Danita perked up at her end.

“Mmm-hmm. That okay?”

“Is it one Grace can hear? She
likes stories.” Danita was the more maternal twin, always thinking of her
little sister and trying to include her in things. ReNetta didn’t intentionally
leave anyone out. It was just that she was a bit single-minded by nature.

“Grace is more than welcome to
listen, although it may be a little boring for her.”

Danita was out of her seat
before I finished speaking. She dashed from the room nearly causing Blanche to
drop the armload of linens she was bringing into the dining room.

“Whoa!” was all Blanche could
manage.

“’Scuse me, Mama,” Danita threw
over her shoulder. “I gotta get Grace. Miz Beckworth’s gonna tell us a story.”

Blanche raised an eyebrow at
me. “They botherin’ you, Miz Ora?”

“Not a bit,” I replied
honestly.

It was Blanche’s turn to snort
before she turned around and headed back for the kitchen.

When Grace and Danita were
settled back down at the table, I began to tell my story.

“I met Walter Beckworth in 1928,
when I was home from college for my father’s funeral. Walter was new in the
insurance business, but he had inherited my father’s account and was helping my
mother with the paperwork to collect on Daddy’s life insurance policy. Daddy
died unexpectedly and Mother had never dealt with paperwork of any kind before.
Needless to say, she was a bit overwhelmed. Now, I was perfectly capable of helping
her with it, but when I saw how kind and honest Walter was, I stepped back and
let him handle everything for her. As a matter of fact, I remember pretending
to be a little overwhelmed by it myself, just so Walter would show up more
often. I think that’s when I knew Walter had the potential to be my husband.
I’d never met a man who could make me feign ignorance when my intellect was my
greatest pride.”

“You sure use a lot of big
words, Miz Beckworth.” It was Grace’s turn to make me feel silly.

“Nothing wrong with using big
words, Grace.”

“Except if you don’t understand
‘em.”

“Which ones didn’t you
understand?”

“All of ‘em.”

“Perhaps I’d better get to the
point, then.”

“Yeah, perhaps.”

Grace wrinkled her nose and
grinned. She may not have understood the words I was using, but she sure did
know how to tease an old lady.

“Grace!” Danita was horrified.

“Shhhh!” ReNetta just wanted to
hear the story.

“Okay, where was I?”

“You met Mr. Beckworth and
decided to marry him.” ReNetta was as concise as she was curious.

“It wasn’t exactly that fast,
ReNetta. He courted me for a year before he asked me to marry him.”

“And when did you?” ReNetta
asked. “Marry him, I mean.”

“Not right away. I finished
college first.”

“Why’d you do that? Weren’t you
just going to get married and live happily ever after?”

“Well, I certainly hoped so,
but I did have the good sense to know that things could happen. My father was
not old when he died, remember. I think that had the most to do with my
finishing my degree. I could always teach if being a wife and mother didn’t
work out.”

I hesitated then. Motherhood
hadn’t worked out for me. My empty womb had made me doubt myself in ways I
hadn’t imagined were possible. That was another story, however, and certainly
not one for young children.

“You a mother, Miz Beckworth?”
Leave it to ReNetta to leave no stone unturned.

“No, ReNetta, I was never
blessed with children.”

“You didn’t have no babies at
all?” Grace looked at me with innocent surprise. My stomach pinched into a tiny
knot.

“Not a one.” I smiled feebly
and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” was Grace’s reply.

“Me, too.” I took a deep
breath. “But, we were talking about silverware, not children, weren’t we?”

Grace flopped her elbows onto
the table and rested her face in both hands. It gave her a comical expression
with her mouth pulled into a wide flat-lipped grin and her eyes twinkling
behind three rolls of cheek pushed high on her face. I laughed out loud.

“But, if I’d had a child, I’d
want her to be just like you, Gracie-love.”

She wiggled happily in her seat
and pushed her cheeks even higher.

“Okay, let’s see,” I searched
my ever-fading memory. “Mr. Beckworth and I married in June of 1931. It was
right after my graduation from Agnes Scott College in Atlanta. My mother had to
plan most of the wedding without me, but that didn’t bother me a bit. I never
was big on pomp and circumstance, but I’d go along with just about anything
Mother said was the right thing to do.”

“What’s pop and circus hands?”
Grace demanded.

“Pomp and circumstance,” I
corrected. “It means fancy stuff.”

“Oh,” she sighed.

“Grace, hush!” ReNetta
complained. “We’re never gonna hear this story if you keep askin’ so many
questions.”

I continued, “I picked out my
china pattern and a wedding dress when I was home on spring break and got home
from graduation just in time to have a bridal shower and help my attendants get
fitted for their dresses. Mother picked out the flowers and everything else.”

“Was it pretty?” Danita wanted
to know this. Danita, the dreamer, I was coming to know.

“I thought so. But, mostly it
was suitable. Suitable for a young lady from a good Southern family. The right
china patterns, the right customs, the right number of bridesmaids and the right
food at the rehearsal dinner. I was a suitable bride for a suitable man.”

“Sounds kinda boring to me,”
ReNetta grunted.

“I honestly didn’t think so,”
was my bemused reply.

“So, what’s all this got to do
with silverware?” ReNetta was not going to let up at all.

“Well, the silverware was just
part of the whole thing. When you got married, you had things you just did,
like the things I told you about. You got fine china and your mother’s
silverware pattern and you went from being someone’s daughter to being
someone’s wife and then that had its own set of expectations, which you just
fulfilled, same as everything else.”

“Were you happy?” Danita wanted
to know.

“Well, of course I was happy,”
I replied. “What’s not to be happy about?”

“You never said why you only
used the silverware sometimes, though.”

“Too much work,” I replied a
little too sharply.

“So how come we’re using it for
Thanksgiving?” Grace quite logically asked. I sighed and shook my head.

“Some things are worth the
effort,” was all I could think to say.

Seven

Thanksgiving that year was the first time in a long, long
time that I filled my house with so many happy, laughing people. Marcus arrived
home on Wednesday, and on Thursday the whole troop of Lowerys arrived on my
doorstep at 10:00 a.m.

Blanche and I had baked pies
the day before and the turkey was stuffed and ready to be put in the oven.
Marcus found several things to do around the house which I felt certain Blanche
had mentioned to him in advance. Patrice set the table as if she had been doing
it for years. Blanche had obviously been attentive to her training all along,
if Patrice’s confidence were any indication. The twins were charged with
entertaining Grace, which they happily did. Close to noon, Blanche appeared in
the doorway of my living room where I had retired to rest my feet.

“Reckon Eddie has anywhere to
go today?”

I felt a sudden twinge of
guilt. It had been over a month since my yard had been mowed for the last time
that year. I had offered to find a few things around the house to keep Eddie
busy, but he had allowed as how he might take a few months off to rest. I
hadn’t argued and assumed he was doing exactly as he said.

“I hadn’t thought of it,
Blanche, but I’m sure there’s something going on at one of the churches. The Episcopals
still have their event every year.”

Blanche dried her hands on the
towel she was holding. “That’s clear across town.”

“What are you getting at,
Blanche? Do you want to invite him to dinner here?”

“Well, not exactly, but I was
thinking maybe Marcus could take him a plate later on.”

“He could, but wouldn’t it be
kinder to just ask him here to eat?”

“He may not be comfortable with
that, Miz Ora.”

“Why don’t we give him the
option?”

So, that’s what we did. Marcus
was dispatched to the general area of the old man’s living quarters, if you
could call it that. He reappeared a half hour later with the news that Eddie
would indeed like to join us and would be along in an hour or so. I must say I
was a little surprised at that, seeing as how the man had never ventured past
the left corner stoop of my house.

An hour later he showed up
looking somehow neater than I remembered. His face was clean shaven and his
hair so closely cropped that you could see the distinct tiny curls of gray and
white that littered his scalp like a field of dandelion. They looked equally
fragile, too, as if one good puff of air might blow them all away. Gone was the
cap in hand, gone the threadbare shirt. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have
thought he’d gotten a real job and a roof over his head somewhere. But Marcus
had found him where he always stayed, so I knew that wasn’t the answer.

“I’m so glad you could make it.
Won’t you come in?”

I assumed my hostess role by
habit I suppose, despite the fact that I had relieved myself of all duties the
moment Walter was laid in the ground. I had always assumed we would retire
together, but Walter worked right up until the moment he succumbed to a massive
heart attack in the men’s room at the Rotary Club downtown. Bless his heart, he
hadn’t even managed to pull his pants up before he slumped to the floor in
front of the toilet. It was an undignified ending for such a fastidious and
dignified man and I hadn’t quite gotten over that yet. I decided to retire
immediately. I told myself it had nothing to do with having to face all the
whispers at the Woman’s Club and the Ladies’ Auxiliary. I imagine I wasn’t the
only one who felt relieved by that decision.

Anyway, there I was with a
homeless man as a guest in my home. My instincts took over and I did my best to
make him comfortable. We chatted as we made our way to the living room.

“Thank you, Miz Beckworth. I
‘preciate the invite, I sho do. I wasn’t lookin’ forward to walkin’ ‘cross town
to the shelter for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“You’re most welcome, Eddie.
I’m delighted to have you.”

Was that what I was? Delighted?
It didn’t really seem to fit. Pleased to have him? Maybe. Certainly not
displeased; I was glad he wouldn’t go hungry today. Come to think of it, I was
rather pleased. Pleased with myself for not hesitating in my offer. Pleased
that Blanche had not successfully called my bluff, whether she intended that or
not. Pleased that I had been tested and passed.

I did a quick mental comparison
of this particular feeling of pleasure and the one I felt each year before,
when I had helped plates down at the Episcopal Church’s Annual Thanksgiving
charity meal. It‘s easy to feel benevolent when you‘re wearing an apron and
gloves over a Chanel suit and dishing out turkey and dressing to a long line of
the “least of these.”

This was different. I’m not
sure I would have invited Eldred Mims to my home for Thanksgiving if I hadn’t
been backed into this corner and that’s just the plain truth. But, there he was
and there I was and, by God, I had an audience. I wasn’t about to fall on my
face.