“But, Jessie,” Candy said, “Wilson’s way more trustworthy than Ian ever was, okay?”
“And you know this how? You’ve met my ex-husband maybe three times?” I turned to Karen. “And I don’t believe you’ve ever had the pleasure.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I know Wilson, and Kiddo’s right.”
I mumbled something about Tiffany La-Dee-Doo-Da Sass under my breath and changed the subject back to my mother—surprisingly, the less touchy topic.
“Let’s just hope she understands enough to pretend she doesn’t know me,” I said. “And let’s just hope no one sees the family resemblance. And let’s just hope I don’t walk right up to her and wring her scrawny old neck in front of the entire Wade On Inn crowd.”
“Gosh, Jessie.” Candy glanced at my hairdo. “I don’t think anyone will guess you guys are related.”
Karen also scowled at me and reminded me how short my mother is. “Even if you do have the exact same nose and eyes.”
“I wonder how long we can pretend we don’t know each other,” I continued fretting. “And how we’ll keep our names straight all evening. Mother’s alias is Martha Smith.”
“And you’re still Tessie Hess? Gosh, this is getting confusing,” Candy said.
We all agreed with that understatement, and as we cleared the table, we also agreed to make it a short evening.
“I’m tempted to just walk in there, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her out,” I said as I loaded the dishwasher.
Candy handed me the remaining plates. “I hope Wilson won’t be too mad when he finds out about this.”
“He’s gonna kill you,” Karen reminded me for the umpteenth time, and I asked if anyone else would like an Advil.
***
“Another great outfit,” Elsa Quinn complimented me a bit later, and I had to agree my friends had outdone themselves on my behalf once again.
My new red bra had inspired my ensemble that evening. I was wearing a red blouse, and Karen had hunted around in Candy’s jewelry box until she discovered what she insisted were the perfect earrings to accessorize my get-up. I was far too preoccupied to argue when I had agreed to hang what looked like Christmas tree ornaments from my unsuspecting earlobes.
Speaking of red, Candy found herself a seat between Mackenzie and the Red-Headed Ogler, whose eyes immediately attached themselves to Candy’s cleavage.
Karen ordered a pitcher, and I lingered at the bar to actually drink a bit. Perhaps some beer would give me the courage needed to turn around and face the pool table and my mother. My mother. At the Wade On Inn. I took a large gulp of the watery yellow substance and concentrated on the barflies.
Despite my bizarre outfit, no one was paying particular attention to me, except for Goldilocks the Cop. She stared aghast, likely admiring my stunning attire. I resisted the urge to wave and tuned in to the conversation between Elsa and Karen.
Unfortunately they were discussing the music. Thus I ascertained we were listening to the wondrous sounds of Heidi Perkins and the Pink Flamingos, who were chirping some ridiculous ditty about their beloved pink cowboy boots.
Karen informed me she loves their stuff, and I grimaced accordingly.
“Are you planning on dancing all night again?” I asked her and winked at Elsa. “Karen’s been making lots of new friends in here.”
“She’s made quite an impression on my bouncer,” Elsa agreed. “I’ve never seen Henry have so much fun.”
“Melissa tells me he’s worked here a long time?” I asked, oh so cleverly guiding the conversation in useful directions.
“Oh yeah. Henry’s a fixture around here. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“I think the feeling is mutual.” Karen tilted her head and tried looking coy, but Elsa wasn’t following. “He likes you, Elsa,” she said bluntly.
“Noooo thank you.” Elsa took a step backward. “Henry’s a loyal soul and all. But a guy who wants to take me to church? He’s all yours, honey.”
She was about to wander away, so I quickly asked another question. “I’ve heard Fritz Lupo was nice looking. What about him?”
Elsa stopped short. “You ladies have something against my hard-earned independence?” Karen and I shrugged in unison, and she took the bait. “First of all, Fritz is dead. So, I’m guessing there’s not much chance of a romance there. And Fritz wasn’t exactly my type, if you know what I mean.”
She knocked on the bar and walked away before I could inquire further.
Okay, so much for procrastination. I took a deep breath and turned around to locate my mother. She was nestled between Ethel and Doreen, clutching her Queen Elizabeth purse in her lap and looking about as pleasant and pleased as a person can look at the Wade On Inn.
“Help me,” I begged Karen.
“Oh boy,” she whispered as she, too, took in the surrealistic scene.
Courage, I scolded myself and stalwartly began my trek across the room. But my legs refused to cooperate, and I stumbled about halfway to the pool table. I knew I must have been really bad off when the Drunken Dancer caught me before I fell. Mr. Leather and Chains also came to my rescue. He popped onto the floor and asked me to dance.
Now, here was a situation Karen could help me with. She stepped around me as the music changed. “It’s Lila DeWees!” she exclaimed. “I love her stuff.”
She grabbed Mr. Leather by the hand and swept him away, his sundry chains clinking and clanging to the beat of the music. The guy was a walking tambourine.
There was no turning back now. I took another deep breath, focused on the pool table, and made it to Melissa’s side without further ado. My plan? I would engage Melissa in a lengthy discussion of the tactics and strategies of nine ball, keep my eyes on the pool table, and my back firmly directed at my mother.
Yep, that was the ticket—I would keep my back to the old ladies and ignore them.
“Tessie!” Doreen poked me in the butt with her cane. “Don’t you want to meet our new friend?”
A spot underneath the pool table looked ever so inviting, but I reminded myself about the courage thing and turned around.
“This here’s Martha.” Doreen tapped my mother’s knee. I clenched my teeth in a smile-slash-grimace and acknowledged my mother. “Martha’s from South Carolina,” Doreen was saying. “But she wanted to see the Wade On Inn.”
“She’s never been to a bar like this,” Ethel added and formally introduced me to my mother, one Martha Smith.
Don’t ask me how, but evidently I survived the moment.
In fact, I must have held out my hand, since Mother shook it and told me how pleased she was to make my acquaintance.
“I’m anxious to see you play, Tessie.” She refused to let go of my hand. “Ethel and Doreen tell me you’re a very good player. So I’ll be placing all my bets on you tonight.”
I closed my eyes and prayed for strength.
***
Then, somehow, I shot some pool.
I muddled through, winning a dozen or so games, while my mother the lunatic made herself at home. She hooted and hollered and carried on with Doreen and Ethel. When I made the mistake of playing Spencer Erring, she admired his perfectly shaped backside along with the rest of the female railbirds and reluctantly accepted Melissa’s assessment that she was way too old for him. When I played Melissa, she encouraged her to listen to my advice.
“Of course, I don’t know Tessie all that well,” Mother, a.k.a. Martha, announced. “But I can just tell she’s a good teacher.” She turned from Melissa to me. “Are you a teacher, Tessie? Is that what you do? Don’t ask me how, but I can usually guess these things.” Mother smiled, waiting for my answer.
Bless her heart, Melissa responded for me. “Tessie’s a waitress, just like me,” she said, and then listened closely as I offered her the lesson Martha was insisting on.
With a lot of coaching from yours truly, Melissa did sink a fairly difficult bank shot, and my mother made a show of standing up and high-fiving her. Apparently she had forgotten her money was riding on me.
When I played Bobby Decker, Martha Smith asked if she might have the honor of holding his cowboy hat. Taking a lesson from one of Adelé Nightingale’s more ludicrous heroines, she blushed demurely when he tipped said hat and handed it over.
Oh, yes. Mother found time to charm just about everyone. She discussed her favorite books with Kevin Cooper, and her favorite Bible passages with Henry Jack.
The trickiest moment occurred when Avis Sage wandered over to chat. I braced myself for any sign of recognition, prepared to throw her over my shoulder and race up the stairs and out the door if need be. After all, Mr. Sage had sat at my mother’s dinner table on at least one occasion. But luckily three or four decades had altered her looks, and he remained clueless as to her true identity.
I remembered how to breathe again and got back to my game.
At some blessed point she stood up and announced she was leaving. “My daughter Suzie must be worried sick about me.” She giggled. “I am sure she won’t approve when she finds out where I’ve been all this time.”
“Do yourself a favor, Martha,” Doreen spoke up. “Don’t tell your children anything about how you spend your time, or your money.”
“It’ll only give you headaches,” Ethel added.
With that, the three old ladies delved into a lengthy discussion of the trials and tribulations of dealing with adult children. I rolled my eyes only once, I swear to God, before getting back to the pool table.
I was aiming at the eight ball by the time Martha Smith remembered she was supposed to be leaving. She made a show of yawning and picked her way across the room and toward the stairway, where Henry Jack escorted her up the stairs and out the door.
I quickly won the game, collected my winnings, and made some lame excuse that I also needed to get some rest. After bidding everyone a hasty goodnight, I waved to Karen on the dance floor. She caught on and abruptly twirled around to follow me to the bar. We collected Candy and got the heck out of there.
***
It goes without saying Mother was driving way too fast, and she had a head start on us. But Karen kept her wits about her and struggled to catch up.
It couldn’t have been easy—what with Wilson’s truck determined to hit every pothole on Belcher drive, and Candy gripping the dashboard with all fours and whining that we were all going to die unless she slowed down. I myself was giving the exact opposite advice, incessantly screaming that Karen not let the maniac get away.
Bless her heart, she didn’t. And we all breathed a collective sigh of relief when Mother actually stopped at a red light. Karen pulled up behind her and we relaxed for a brief moment.
Brief is the word. Mother peeled out a split second before the light turned green, Karen muttered something I didn’t quite catch and hit the gas.
Just then, my cell phone rang. I should have known it was Wilson by the angry ringtone, but I pulled the phone out of the glove box and checked anyway.
“Yep. It’s Wilson,” I announced.
“He’s gonna kill you,” Karen informed me as she rounded a sharp curve at about ninety.
Chapter 18
“Tell me that wasn’t your mother.” My soon-to-be ex-beau was in a most unpleasant mood.
“How did you find out, Wilson?” I tried sounding only mildly curious.
He yelled that it was his job to find out.
“Did Goldilocks call you?” I asked as my mother blew through a stop sign.
I glanced at Karen. “Stay with her,” I ordered.
She tapped the brakes, gave a cursory glimpse in each direction, and kept following.
“Or Kevin?” I asked Wilson.
“What the hell was your mother—your mother!—doing at the Wade On Inn?”
I reminded Wilson I was in his truck. “Everyone in this cab can hear you.”
“Good! Then maybe one of you will answer me.”
No one else volunteered, so I decided it was up to me. “Mother spent the day with Ethel and Doreen,” I explained. “She was trying to learn their deep dark secrets.”
“What!?”
“She met them at The Cotswald Estates, and somewhere along the line they asked her to join them at the Wade On Inn.”
“What!?”
While Karen, and now Candy, filled me in on the startling revelation that Wilson was going to kill me, I provided him with further details.
“Trust me,” I concluded. “This trip to the Wade On Inn was not part of the original plan.”
“Plan!?”
“Yes, Wilson, plan. But I never told her to go to the Wade On Inn. I am innocent,” I proclaimed.
“Like hell you are!”
“Where’s she going, Jessie?” Candy pointed ahead as Mother made an unexpected left turn.
I held my hand to the phone. “I have no idea and can guarantee she doesn’t either. She gets lost all the time.” I spoke to Karen. “Follow her, and let’s just hope she finds Sullivan Street before morning.”
Karen mumbled an expletive I had never before heard her say and floored it.
Meanwhile Wilson continued shouting obscenities in my other ear.
“Listen to me, Wilson,” I yelled back, and much to my surprise, he did. I resumed my calm voice and assured him my mother must have gotten some great information. “Otherwise she would never have spent so much time with Ethel and Doreen. She doesn’t like loud people.”
“Did she like the Wade On Inn?”
I ignored the sarcasm. “Yes, I do believe she enjoyed watching me play. She had fun.”
“Fun!?”
Mother ran another red light, and this time Candy sputtered out a word I had never before heard her use.
“Have I mentioned I’m getting a headache?” I asked no one in particular.
“Where are you?” Wilson demanded.
“We’re following Tessie, of course. And poor Karen’s trying to keep us all alive.” I flinched as Mother’s car hit a curb at warp speed. “Mother really shouldn’t drive at night.”
“Tell me about it.” That was Karen.
“She’s a menace,” I said.
“Like mother, like daughter,” Wilson said and ordered me to meet him at my condo instead of at The Stone Fountain. “That way I can wring your neck in private.” He hung up.
When I told Karen and Candy the new plan, they both yawned vigorously and insisted they were not up to a party at my place.
“So you guys are willing to let Wilson kill me, right in front of my dear, sweet, elderly mother, and not try to stop it?”