A Piggly Wiggly Christmas (6 page)

Gaylie Girl did her dead-level best to keep the frown and desperation from her face while wisely deferring to her husband. “Hale, dear, won’t you give Lady Roth your input and expert opinion on this?”

Mr. Choppy responded quickly and firmly. “Well, Lady Roth, I do appreciate your viewpoint as always, but I wonder what either myself or my wife can do to persuade Mr. Bead. Do you think he would listen to either of us?”

“I’m here to tell you that you simply must prevail. At least one of you must, and I really don’t care which. That utterly odious man seems to forget that I make substantial contributions to the church. He has such an exaggerated opinion of himself and his authority.”

It took all the restraint Gaylie Girl could muster to suppress the obvious response about the pot calling the kettle black, but she acquitted herself beautifully. “I suppose I could have our Euterpe Simon meet with Mr. Bead and see if she can work something out on your behalf. She’s quite good at that sort of thing, you know.”

Lady Roth frowned before a spark of recognition overtook her. “Are you referring to that piano teacher with the poodle that’s come to town and put out her shingle at the old Piggly Wiggly building?”

“The very same. Among other things, Euterpe’s in charge of coordinating the caroling selections with all the choirmasters. I suppose that this would fall within her bailiwick.”

“Very well, then. I leave this up to you to handle since you seem to know her so well. But I will not accept anything less than a solo from one of the balconies on Christmas Eve,” Lady Roth concluded, rising up from her chair as crisply as her age and arthritis would allow. “That is all.”

Once she was gone, Mayor and Mrs. Hale Dunbar Jr. immediately huddled at his desk. “What are we going to do about Lady Roth’s ultimatum?” Gaylie Girl said. “I already feel guilty pushing this off on poor Euterpe.”

Mr. Choppy appeared momentarily stumped before a little gasp brought a smug grin to his face. “Didn’t you have Laurie Hampton with you when you went around to tell all the choirmasters about Caroling in The Square? There’s your answer. Put her on the case. She’ll come up with somethin’ brilliant. I know all the Nitwitts swear by her, and I still have the fondest memories of all that waltzin’ at the Piggly Wiggly that she came up with to try and help me keep my store open.”

Gaylie Girl remained slightly uncomfortable nonetheless. “Whether I saddle Euterpe or Laurie with this, it’s going to take a bit of maneuvering. But I think you’re probably onto something there. If anyone can keep Lady Roth from ruining this for everybody, it’s Laurie.”

Mr. Choppy sank back in his chair and smiled the way people do when they are about to say something complimentary. “I’m gonna have to give you an A plus, sweetheart.”

Gaylie Girl was caught off guard, managing only to tilt her head like a curious puppy.

“What I mean is—you held up pretty well just now. Not many secretaries have to put up with the likes of Lady Roth first time out. I think you’re gonna do just fine as my Gaylie Girl Friday. Hey, the worst may be over already!”

“You really think so? I have to confess that I was a lot more nervous than I let on.”

“I’d never have guessed. Cherish was really good at that ‘even keel’ business, too. I don’t think the office of Mayor Hale Dunbar is gonna miss a lick.”

It didn’t take long for a couple of the Nitwitts to call up and check on Gaylie Girl’s maiden voyage as a working girl. First to grill her later that morning was Renza, who seemed much more concerned with the latest Nitwitt gossip than truly finding out how things were going for Gaylie Girl at the Mayor’s office.

“I think Denver Lee is up to something,” she told Gaylie Girl, after inquiring perfunctorily about the initial go-round of secretarial duties. “She keeps hinting that we ought to have our next Nitwitts’ meeting to discuss the progress of the caroling project at her house instead of mine. Well, I’m still president of the Nitwitts, so I see no reason to drag everyone over to Denver Lee’s. Besides, that house of hers is beyond bizarre. I get the heebie-jeebies every time I’m over there.”

Gaylie Girl could hardly disagree. She had visited the house that Eustice McQueen had built for his Denver Lee only once since moving down and had been completely unable to figure out what the man was trying for. Oh, it was conventional enough on the outside with its two-story brick façade and evenly spaced shuttered windows. Inside, however, every room was cluttered with his failed inventions, none of which had offered much eye appeal to begin with and all of which had aged badly by now. As a result, the overall effect was of an unkempt museum of the arcane, if not downright deranged. The center of the living room, for example, was occupied by something that resembled either an enormous broken-down unicycle or perhaps a futuristic spinning wheel. It was truly impossible to tell which, but all the seating was grouped around it, making conversation a distracting proposition.

The long central hallway featured a lot of metallic bits and pieces dangling from the ceiling on wires, the lot of which Denver Lee had explained away as the intricate parts of a large mechanical nutcracker that had worked just once and then exploded rather violently in front of the only corporate executives who had ever expressed any interest in purchasing the patent. It seemed to remain a point of pride with Denver Lee, however, that no one had been injured as a result of that explosion. Her Euss, she insisted, had lovingly preserved what was left of the mess, being unable to let go of yet another of his contraptions that would have taxed Rube Goldberg’s imagination.

“I can appreciate what you’re saying about that house,” Gaylie Girl began. Then she suddenly decided to emulate Laurie in trying for the role of peacemaker. “But I think Denver Lee’s been having a very difficult time controlling her diabetes lately. Maybe humoring her and letting her host one of the meetings wouldn’t hurt.” Gaylie Girl knew better than to leave it at that, however. “You’re still the president, though, no matter what. It’s up to you.”

Renza fell silent for a while, apparently placated by Gaylie Girl’s careful maneuvering. “I’ll think about it. I still believe Denver Lee has some sort of ulterior motive. She always does, you know.”

“I’ll go along with whatever you decide,” Gaylie Girl continued. “Oh, by the way, all of you must be doing something right with the publicity. Lady Roth was in here earlier demanding this and that as a result of her interest in our project.”

“Why, we haven’t done a thing yet, other than talk to Powell Hampton over the phone. We’re supposed to meet with him around the first of November to plan the actual ad campaign. Of course, I’m not really surprised that Lady Roth already knows everything there is to know. She has her flies on every wall in town.”

As there seemed to be nothing Gaylie Girl could think of to top that, she begged off, claiming piles of work in front of her. In fact, she spent the next fifteen minutes filing a stack of important documents in their proper folders as Cherish had taught her to do with utmost efficiency. Then she announced Councilman Morgan Player, who strolled in for a meeting smelling of smoke from one of the many cigarette breaks he took throughout the day in The Square below.

Euterpe Simon was the next to phone up, and, oh, what a welcome respite from Renza’s sharp, suspicious tongue! “Just think of your day the way you think of your piano exercises,” Euterpe offered in that musical voice of hers. “One note at a time, one task at a time. And before you know it, everything will be flowing beautifully—whether a playful little tune or your office routine. You’ll be a winner at this just as you are every time you sit down at the piano, my dear.”

“You’re always so full of encouragement!” Gaylie Girl exclaimed. “But, really, I’m managing just fine at the moment. It’s a snap so far.” Then she remembered Lady Roth’s obstreperous solo demands as well as the quarrel with Lawton Bead, and her mood immediately darkened. It hardly seemed fair to saddle such a lovely, thoughtful person as Euterpe with this pressing quandary, and she made up her mind then and there to wait and broach the subject first with Laurie Hampton, as her husband had advised. “Thanks for calling, Euterpe,” she continued. “There’s no metronome in front of me on my desk, but I’m definitely into a comfortable rhythm already.”

By the time lunch had come and gone, Gaylie Girl was convinced that no one, not even Renza Belford at her most curmudgeonly, could possibly disturb that rhythm. But then came the unexpected long-distance call from her son Petey in Lake Forest, and her composure was manifestly shaken.

“You’ll never guess, Mom,” Petey began, sounding like a mischievous little boy at the other end. “Meta and I are getting married, and you’re the first to know. Don’t you feel special? Anyway, they say the third time’s the charm—so I’m bound and determined to make this one work!”

Gaylie Girl was speechless at first, though she had her suspicions that something like this might be in the offing. Petey had met and fallen hard for Meta Belford, Renza’s tall, artistic daughter, during the pre-wedding, whirlwind weekend the Nitwitts had staged to win him over—along with his sister, Amanda—to the cornucopia of eccentricity that was Second Creek. They had succeeded, of course—perhaps a little too well. Given Petey’s track record of two divorces before the age of forty, however, Gaylie Girl wasn’t quite as sanguine as her son about this newest alliance.

More important, she didn’t relish the prospect of suddenly being related by marriage to the Nitwitts’ current president and most outspoken member. All she could envision was one annoying phone call after another from Renza, who no doubt would be taking her daughter’s side against Petey on every marital issue known to husband and wife. Whatever else occurred as a result of the impending union, that much would be a given.

“Well, sweetie, you and Meta have been thick as thieves up there in Lake Forest all this time, haven’t you?” Gaylie Girl said, doing her best to disguise her misgivings. “My warmest congratulations are certainly in order. Have the two of you set the date yet?”

“Maybe sometime around early spring, we’re thinking. No real rush, though,” Petey replied. “Meta and I had such fun at your wedding to Hale that we want the Nitwitts to throw us the same sort of shindig. Think you can get together with the ladies and conjure up something like that for us? That reception tent out at Evening Shadows was beyond spectacular, especially with all those fireflies flitting around the way they did there at the end. It was like a magic show.”

Gaylie Girl’s smile was effortless as she recalled the mysterious display. “And the magic continued even after that, Petey. Those fireflies followed us in the honeymoon getaway car all the way up to the Memphis airport. God’s escort, I like to think of it. But to answer your question, I’m sure Myrtis Troy would be more than happy to offer her Evening Shadows again, especially with that kind of lead time.” She paused briefly, continuing to search for small talk. “So, Meta enjoyed her visit to Lake Forest and Lyons Manor, I take it?”

“That she did. But we’ve made another couple of momentous decisions. She’s going to pull up stakes from St. Augustine and open a new Meta, Unlimited, Art Gallery on The Square down there in Second Creek. I know she’ll just fit right in. Meanwhile, I’ll be moving down myself to keep an eye on my newest corporate investment. I’ve decided I want to adopt a hands-on approach—maybe even get to know some of my key employees real well. Dad always told me that that was what kept Lyons Insole on the up-and-up all those years. Of course, I’ll want you to help me pick out one of those beautiful historic Second Creek mansions, and I’ll let Meta decorate it to her heart’s content. She can hang her artwork all over the place—even over the johns in the bathrooms if she likes. Bet you thought I would never desert the old manse up here in Lake Forest, huh?”

Indeed, Gaylie Girl would never have dreamed of such a turn of events. She had considered his recent purchase of Second Creek’s largest employer, Pond-Raised Catfish, to be strictly a matter of the business acumen he had inherited from his late father. She was certain he would hire a competent plant manager to run the place for him and settle for being one of those successful but absentee owners of a profitable industry.

“What’s the real estate market like down there right now?” Petey continued even before Gaylie Girl could react to his many revelations.

“Oh, I’ll have to ask Renza Belford’s brother-in-law Paul about that. He was the one that got us such a great deal on our new place. As you know, Hale and I finished the renovation in record time and moved in right after the honeymoon. Everything couldn’t look spiffier, and I’ve spotted more than a few fixer-uppers around town that could use some tender loving care.”

“Excellent! Meta and I really want to become Second Creekers and do the whole thing up right just like you’re doing with Hale!” He let out a peculiar little snicker that went on a bit longer than it needed to.