Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise (21 page)

"Glory, child. I'll be counting the days. Rate I'm going, it could very well be my last peaches on earth."

"Now, don't go talking nonsense, Hazel."

"Oh, pshaw. I'm going to die. We all are. Or were you absent the day they taught that stuff in school?"

"I know that, Hazel. I just don't want you making a, what's it called? A self-fulfilling prophecy."

Hazel swallowed a bit of pie. "Well, aren't you all fancy talking?"

"The percolator is slowing down. I'll get your coffee."

After we chatted a few more minutes, I got back to the reason for my visit.

"Hazel, I was beginning to tell you my news."

"Oh, right, right. Go on. Spill it."

"I came to invite you to the first annual Paradise barbecue this afternoon."

"Barbecue? In Paradise? Have you been sipping cooking sherry, Charlotte?"

"Nope. I'm serious. Everyone is coming. Looks like they're closing down the whole place to get ready. Grills are firing up, lawn chairs are getting set up in the street and I even saw two or three picnic tables. The Frost sisters even slaughtered a pig and are fixing to roast it."

"My goodness. You don't mean it?"

"I do."

She sipped her coffee and smacked her lips. "Was this your idea?"

I nodded and she smiled so hard her top partial plate slipped loose. She popped it back in place like it happened all the time.

"I knew the day I laid eyes on you when you pulled that wonky-wheeled trailer onto your property and stood there looking at that bilious green eyesore. I knew when you didn't back down from that challenge that you'd pull Paradise together."

I swallowed. "Please, Hazel. It's just a plain old barbecue. Now, how about it? How about you come out to the party? We're celebrating summer and the beginning of the softball season. All the Angels will be there."

She shook her head. "I'm too old. Barbecues are for you youngsters."

"Who says?"

"I say." She shook her head and then finished off her pie."Sorry, Charlotte, but I'll just sit in my yard and watch from there."

"It's not like there will be fireworks in the sky for you to see. You'll need to mosey down where the action is. And besides, the team sponsor should make an appearance, even if no one knows your secret identity."

"No, no. Just bring me a plate of that roasted pork when it's ready. I'll be fine with my birdhouses."

I took a breath. "Hazel, I need you to come."

"Need?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What did you do, Charlotte? Did you tell them people about me?" Her face went marshmallow white.

"No. Well, not everyone. Rose knows."

Hazel nodded. "Figured you'd blab to someone."

"Well, I couldn't help it, and she practically guessed anyway. She saw me come out of your trailer a couple of times."

Hazel waved her hand at me. "Don't fret, child. Secret keeping can be a tough job."

"Thank you, Hazel. Now, what do you say? Come to the party?"

She clicked her tongue. "I don't know, Charlotte."

"But I need you to come on account of Fergus and Suzy Wrinkel."

"Fergus? What's he got to do with it?"

"I can't tell you right now. Just please trust me and say you'll come. Even for a few minutes. Just show up. I'll find fresh peaches and make you a pie."

"Will you serve it a la mode?"

"You bet. Nice big plopper of vanilla ice cream on the side and—"

"And don't put it on the side, child, just drop it right on top."

N
ow, I don't suppose there was any stranger sight than the one I saw when I left Hazel's that morning. Edwina and Thomasina hauled a dead pig down Mango Street.

"How come you didn't put that thing in your truck?" I called.

"Edwina couldn't get it running," Thomasina shouted.

"I told you the battery was dead last night," Edwina said.

They looked so funny. Thomasina had the front end while Edwina lugged the back, which she dropped every couple of feet. Lucky caught a glimpse or a sniff of it and went tearing over and started puffing and snuffing all around it. I called him away, worried he might take a bite out of it. I didn't want him getting that raw pig disease—trichinosis. But he barked and followed it like it was a compact car.

"Where are you going with it?" I called. But before they could answer, Old Man Hawkins was on them with his shotgun poised. I jumped behind a convenient oak.

"Whatcha got there, soldiers?"

"Uh-oh, must be fighting World War II," I whispered.

"Got us a Nazi prisoner, sir," Edwina said without missing a step.

Hawkins lowered his rifle. "Could be a medal in this for you," he said. "Carry on, men." Then he stood on his little makeshift porch and saluted as the pig went by.

I hurried to catch up with them because I just had to know."Where are you taking it?"

"Down to Asa's."

"Asa?"

"He's the only one that has a roasting barbecue. Scavenged it from the old Playtown Fair years ago—same place Rose got her hand. Must be six feet long."

"Oh, now I understand."

I stayed back and watched them lug our dinner down the street.

"How long does something that big take to cook?" I hollered.

"All day," they said. "All day. Course we'll slice it down the middle and spread it out like a butterfly on the grill, and that will hasten the roasting time," Thomasina said.

I baked four pies before the festivities really got started— apple, cherry, lemon meringue, and one peach made from canned peaches, but I wouldn't tell Hazel. I would have made more, but I ran out of flour and apples and cinnamon. Not too often that I ran out of cinnamon. But I did that day, and I didn't use just any brand of cinnamon. I preferred Madagascar cinnamon that came in sticks and enjoyed scraping them and making rust-colored snow on my apples.

My kitchen smelled like heaven. At least, it was heaven to me—spicy and sugary. The citrus from the lemon gave it a clean, summer smell. I covered all the pies in Saran Wrap and went to check on Rose and her potato salad.

"Come in," she called after I rapped gently on her door.

Rose stood at her kitchen sink crying her eyes out.

"What's wrong?" I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing."

"But you're crying, Rose."

"Onions. I'm crying from the onions. And once I got started, I couldn't stop."

"Onions are like that," I said. "Great way to get a good cry going."

She nodded and blubbered. I watched the tattoos on her arms and neck wiggle and dance as she burbled and sniffed.

"You want to cry some more?"

She nodded and kept crying.

"Okay. I'll just wait over here."

I noticed she had all the fixings for potato salad ready to go. Cooked potatoes, mayonnaise, celery, onions.

"Looks like you're making good salad, Rose."

She wiped her eyes on a dish towel. "The second batch of the day. My mama's recipe. Only one she ever gave me. Only one I know."

Rose had never mentioned her mother before.

"Is your mother still alive?"

"No. She died when I was fifteen. Believe it or not, she passed away right after making potato salad for the church picnic. Now, isn't that a hoot? She just sat down and died. Doctor said it was the oddest thing he ever seen."

I wrapped my arms around Rose. "Oh, dear, no wonder you want to cry."

Rose cried and buried her face in my shoulder. "I'll get over it, but I don't think I can make the salad myself."

"I'll help."

Rose and I made enough salad to feed fifty people. She was fine once we got to mixing and never mentioned her mother again. I didn't bring it up either. The only problem was when I suggested we put a little pickle juice into the mix.

"There is no way I am putting pickle juice in my mother's recipe, Charlotte. Besides, I hate pickles."

"Fine. No pickle juice. But did I tell you about the pig?"

Rose mixed the salad with a large spoon. "What pig?"

"The Frost sisters slaughtered and butchered a hog for today's barbecue feast. Can you stand that? Imagine killing a hog."

"Is that what I smell?" she asked.

I opened her kitchen window a bit more. The aroma of roasting pig, sweet and savory, wafted into the kitchen. "It does smell good, Rose. But I still can't get over killing an animal like that."

"Happens every day, Charlotte, and if I know Edwina and Thomasina, they did it with reverence and compassion."

Rose thanked Jesus for the pig.

"So when is this shindig scheduled to start?" Rose asked as she lifted her head.

I picked at the salad. "Yum, it's good. I figure folks will just start showing up, you know, assembling, finding their own way." I looked out the window. Folks were already starting to mingle in the street. It kind of looked like a scene from
The Night of the Living Dead.
But I figured they'd perk up once the festivities and food got rolling.

"Looks like they're all heading toward Asa's. There goes Greta and her kids. I see Clara and her husband."

"Yeah, Asa's got the largest property—next to the Frost farm, that is."

"And that giant barbecue."

"Right. The one he took from the fair."

"Took? You mean he stole a giant barbecue?"

Rose nodded.

That was when I started to laugh.

"What is so funny?"

"Nothing. I think I'm happy," I said. "My heart feels light, and my brain doesn't feel nearly as muddled as it did before, Rose. I think this is what it feels like to do good. To do something really good that makes other people happy."

Rose looked out the window. "Here comes Ginger. She's pulling a red wagon filled with—what is all that?"

Rose ran outside and I followed. "Ginger," Rose called."What do you have in that wagon?"

"Necessaries," she called.

Rose stopped. "I got hamburger buns, pickle relish, ketchup, mustard, gumdrops, cream soda, and more hamburger buns."

"Where did you get it all?"

"I went to the store this morning. And oh, yeah. I got a couple of new shuttlecocks for badminton."

Rose sucked enough air for the three of us. "You? You went to the store? But you never go."

"I know. Asa does all my shopping, usually, but, I don't know, this morning I got the notion to go alone, and it—"

"Wasn't so bad?" I said.

Ginger stared up at me, dropped the wagon handle, and put her tiny fists on her tiny hips. "No. It was awful. People stared at me and pointed like I had just walked out of the circus train bound for Freakville. Saw a few people snicker when I couldn't reach the pickle relish. But I ignored them, Charlotte. I ignored them, climbed up on the shelves, and got what I wanted."

Rose smiled and then started to laugh. "You really climbed the shelves?"

"Like a ladder. But then a grocery boy came and helped me. Nice young fella. But he was freaked out, you know. I mean, how often does he see a midget in tiny blue jeans, tie-dyed shirt, and love beads?"

If I were to venture a guess, I'd say there was close to forty people gathered at the end of Mango Street. Asa's trailer was small but tidy with a lot of ground around it. He had rose bushes, pink and purple azaleas, tulips, and the greenest grass I had ever seen, besides the grass on Angel Field. But that was when I realized—that man used the leftover sod on his own property. It was fine with me.

"Asa," I said. "You have such a nice place. I've been meaning to tell you."

"Thank you. It's home."

The oversized barbecue was set off to the side on the road, which was a cul-de-sac—just perfect for entertaining.

"That pig smells delicious already," Rose said. "When can we eat it?"

"Let me check on it," Asa said as he tightened the belt on his yellow apron.

Rose, Ginger, and I followed Asa to the barbecue. It was set up alongside three small ones that were manned by Jacob Pilkey. He was flipping burgers faster than I could count them.

"Howdy, Charlotte," he said. "Burger?"

"Not just yet. I'm waiting on that roast pig."

"Yeah, me too. But the younguns like the burgers."

That was when Charlie Lundy Junior and three or four other boys popped out from behind a tree. "Eww," Charlie whined when Asa lifted the lid of the grill. "It still gots its head. No eyes but it gots a head. I ain't eating no head."

"No, not the head," Asa said. "Just its brains. In a bowl like pudding." Then he made a bugaboo noise and frightened the children off.

Asa sliced into the hog with a long, sharp knife. "Looks like another hour, hour and a half."

"Maybe you should get the sauce on it," Jacob said. "Slather that piggy down."

"You go on and do that, will you, Jake? I have to go get Mrs. Crenshaw."

"Crenshaw? You mean that crusty old bird is coming to our party?" Jake asked.

"Why not?" I said. "She lives here too."

Jacob grabbed a pail of barbecue sauce with a paintbrush in it. "I ain't saying she ain't welcome, Charlotte. I'm just saying it's weird, is all."

Asa went off to get Hazel, and I watched Jacob paint the hog down with sauce like he was painting the side of a barn. The sauce sizzled as it hit the hot grill and charbroiled smoke wafted into the air.

"I can't wait to try it," Ginger said.

"Me neither," I said. "I never saw a whole hog cooked before."

"Well, we can thank the Frost sisters," said Rose.

"I heard," Jacob said. "Imagine them killing Beatrice for us. She was like their dog."

I swallowed. "Wait a minute. Hold on a second. You mean they slaughtered their pet? We can't eat their pet."

Jacob laughed. "No. I'm just yanking your chain. They raise pigs for market over there. I'm sure you must have smelled them when the wind blows west."

My nose wrinkled instinctively. "That's what that smell is. I was afraid to ask, thought something was wrong with the septic system."

Fortunately, the pigs were kept downwind of the ball field.

Ginger decided to go play badminton with the children, and Rose said she needed to head back to her trailer for a few minutes, so I settled down with Lucky under a large, sprawling oak tree and admired the Rockwellian picnic scene.

"I haven't seen Suzy or Fergus yet," I said. "I guess he changed his mind."

But then out the corner of my eye I spotted Suzy down the road, standing all alone. Fergus was nowhere in my line of vision. I even stood and looked, but didn't see him.

"I'm gonna go talk to her, Lucky. You better stay—" but before I could finish my thought, Lucky bounded off toward the woods.

I ventured closer to Suzy, and when I got within a few yards, Fergus popped out from behind a car.