Watermelon Days and Firefly Nights: Heartwarming Scenes from Small Town Life (4 page)

“What does he need?” Mayor Tinker already had his coat on. The phone had rung just as he was about to leave the office an hour early, which, forever mindful of giving a day’s work for a day’s taxpayer pay, he never, ever did.

“Says he needs to talk to you about getting a permit to build a slide of some kind.”

Shoot. Today was Mayor Tinker’s wife, Tiny’s, birthday. He’d hoped to get home from work before she did so that he could have dinner ready when she drove in. He’d had it all planned since last week. Pork loin, red potatoes, asparagus, sugar-free buttermilk pie. All of her favorites. Taking Windell Minter’s call would mean a delay of no telling how long. Feeling guilty, he shifted from one foot to the other and looked at his watch.

Ten till five.

Then without giving Alfred the chance to decide, Faye Beth spoke into the phone. “Windell, I’m sorry, but you’ve just missed the mayor. He had some business to take care of and left early. How about I put you down for first thing in the morning? That will be fine. Okay. I’ll sure tell him.” She hung up the phone.

“Faye Beth—” the mayor began.

“Shush. Get yourself out that door. Go on now, before Windell drives by and sees you’re still here. You’ve put in at least forty-five hours this week already—what with city council and library board meetings. It won’t hurt a thing for you to scoot out early. Why, if they paid it, the city would owe you overtime. Go home. Make Tiny a good dinner.
Tell her that I said to have a happy birthday. You baking
her a sugar-free cake?”

All the way home, Mayor Tinker stewed. A slide? Whatever did Windell Minter want a slide for? He was a bachelor with no kids. Even if he did have kids, they’d be too old for a slide. Best Mayor Tinker could recall, Windell didn’t have any young nieces or nephews either. And what was the deal with Windell thinking he needed a permit? Why, nearly every third house in Ella Louise had a minivan parked in the driveway. From where he sat, looked like the one command from God that young couples of Ella Louise had taken to heart was to be fruitful and multiply. Minivans were what mamas and daddies these days used to cart their kids from one place to another. And anyone with sense would know that where there’s a minivan, there’s gonna be a Sears Best swing set—with a seesaw and a slide—set up in the backyard.

A permit? For a slide?

Faye Beth must have heard Windell wrong.

But she had not.

“No, Mayor,” said Windell the next morning, “not a kid’s playground slide. I’m talking about one of those big yellow slides—high as a four-story building—where customers climb up, sit down on a tow sack, and slide down fast as greased pigs.”

“Like at the fair?”

“That’s right.” Windell was so excited that he sat on the edge of his seat, rapping his diamond pinkie ring on the mayor’s desk as he spoke. “My cousin Eddie put one in down in Houston. Folks pay two dollars apiece for the chance to slide. It doesn’t take ’em more’n about thirty seconds, tops. You do the math. This thing is going to be a money magnet. I realize that two dollars may sound steep, but I aim to offer group rates. Senior citizen discounts too.”

Wonderful,
thought the mayor.
Ella Louise’s elderly are going to be lining up in droves to climb four flights of stairs so as to hurl their arthritic bodies to the ground.
He struggled not to chuckle at the thought of the Senior Citizen Care Van making a stop at Windell’s slide.

“So. Do I need a permit?” asked Windell.

“Yes. For something like that you do. Where exactly are you planning on putting this slide thing?” He coughed. “Windell—you’re not planning on building it yourself, are you?” He was thinking of how Windell’s do-it-himself carport had turned out.

“No. Course not. I’ve got an outfit from Oklahoma coming. Man says that they’ll haul it in pieces on three big trucks. Take a week to ten days to assemble the thing. As for where I’m putting it, well, get this.” Windell stood for effect. “The town of Ella Louise can look for Windell’s Super Slide to go in right next to Lindell’s Clean-It-Quick Car Wash.” He sat back down. “Way he and I figure it, folks these days are busy, always looking to kill two birds with one stone. This way, they can have some fun at my place, then go right next door to my brother’s and take care of cleaning their car. Lindell’s all excited about it. He’s planning on getting some new sprayers for two of his bays, and’s even talking about putting a cappuccino machine in for folks who have to wait.”

“That’s quite a plan.”

“We’re real excited about it, Mayor, but I haven’t told you the best part.”

“No?”

“Our sister, Daphne, is moving back to Ella Louise so as to help us out at both places.”

“Daphne? Is she, I mean, how is she . . . ?”

Windell stopped tapping his ring. He ran his fingers over his almost-bald head, then folded them in his lap and leaned back in his chair. “Mayor, Daphne’s made it sixty-six days without a drink. The doc at the place where me and Lindell put her this time says that she’s done real good. Soon as she’s got a job lined up—that’s one of the requirements, that they have a set job before they get out—me and Lindell can bring her back home.”

“Bless her heart. She going to stay by herself or with you and Lindell?”

“With us. Less temptation. We’re gonna sell her place over in Pearly.”

“Windell, sounds like you’ve got a good plan, but I’m wondering, do you think it’s safe for Daphne to . . . ?”

“Don’t worry, Mayor. We’re gonna keep a good eye on her. Me and Lindell’ll have her making change, refilling
the soap dispensers in the restrooms, handing out two-
for-one coupons. Stuff like that.”

“I see,” said the mayor. “I certainly wish her the best. You know, Daphne went to school with my baby brother. She was a cute little kid. It’s been hard to see the turn she’s taken. You and Lindell have been real good to her.”

“Family’s family, and she’s the only sister we’ve got,” Windell said as he shrugged.

“Is she going to church?”

“No. She won’t set foot in the door.”

“Too bad. It’d help if she would.”

“I know it. But ever time I try to talk to her about it, she says she’s not interested. Claims there’s too many hypocrites in churches.”

Mayor Tinker laughed. “She’s got that right. Ever church I know of is full of sinners. Too bad she doesn’t understand that’s the whole point. I’ll be praying for her.”

“Appreciate it. Daphne is a good person. At least she never took drugs. We’re thankful for that. Maybe this time around she’ll give it a go.” Windell stood. “So—you think I’ll have any trouble getting that permit?”

“No. None at all. I’ll call down to City Hall and let them know to expect you.”

“Thanks, Mayor.” Windell had his hand on the door. “I almost forgot. Lindell and I are planning a big ribbon-cutting and grand opening. I’d be honored if you’d be the one to come down and do the cutting. I’ll even see to it that you get to take the first trip down my slide—at no cost, of course.”

Mayor Tinker hated heights. Moving past the third step of a ladder made his feet hurt so bad that Faye Beth had to be the one to change the lightbulbs in the Chamber of Commerce restrooms. “Thank you, Windell. Kind of you to ask. I’ll take a look at my book. Faye Beth keeps me pretty busy, but I’ll do my best to be there. Have a good day, now.”

W
HEN
P
ASTOR
J
OSEPH
T
EDFORD
of Chosen Vessel (Ella Louise’s only nondenominational church) heard of Daphne Minter’s impending arrival in town, when he learned of her
problem—
as it was delicately referred to at the monthly meeting of the Ministerial Alliance—he felt a stirring in his heart. When he heard of her reported disinterest in church attendance, he felt not discouraged but challenged. And a little bit afraid.

So he began to pray.

Which was a good thing.

Daphne Minter (who, after a fifth divorce, decided to keep her maiden name to save herself a lot of future trouble), was released from the rehab hospital on her thirty-sixth birthday, one week before Halloween, which just happened to be her very favorite holiday.

To celebrate their sister’s homecoming as well as her birthday, Lindell baked Daphne a coconut cake and Windell brought home some flowers—pink carnations with baby’s breath in a clear bud vase tied up with a variegated ribbon. They also went in together and got her some stationery and a bottle of cucumber-scented hand lotion, a fragrance choice that Windell questioned until the salesgirl told him that cucumber was among their most popular scents. “That and watermelon,” she said.

Daphne liked her gifts. Despite the weirdness of the first night in her brothers’ house, and despite dealing with them
watching her every move, enduring their unspoken
desires,
guarded expectations, and prayers that
this
time, please,
she would be okay
,
her first night went well.

Until the subject of Halloween came up.

“What do you mean, you don’t celebrate Halloween?” Daphne asked. “No candy? No parties? You don’t even dress up?”

No. They didn’t. But there was a nice community-wide
Harvest Festival at their church. Food, fun, and fellow
ship. Wouldn’t she like to go?

Would there be costumes?

Uh, no.

Scary decorations?

No again.

Pumpkins?

Why, yes! Always.

Carved?

Uh, sorry. No.

She thought she would pass.

Of course, just because her brothers held to crazy notions about Halloween being something bad didn’t mean that she had to go along. Hadn’t they said that this was her house too? That she was to make herself at home? Then she would. She’d be a witch, would carve a pumpkin, and would hand out candy. Lots of candy.

So there.

W
INDELL AND
L
INDELL WERE MINDFUL
of their sister’s precarious state. They’d been warned by her doctor that the upcoming holidays would be when she would most likely slip. Stress, they were told. Expectations. Memories of times past. And while Windell and Lindell had already thought ahead to how they would help Daphne make it through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s, they had never considered that Halloween would be a problem.

They agreed it was best not to get Daphne stirred up.

“What’s it going to hurt?” said Windell to Lindell after Daphne had gone up to bed.

“I agree,” said Lindell. “It’s not worth the risk. Let her have her way this year. Next year, we can take a stronger stand.”