Nice Girls Don't Live Forever (27 page)

I focused on helping Mama with the dirty-dish patrol. The heavily pregnant Jolene, despite having eaten her weight in sausage balls during the shower, tucked into a heaping bowl of ice cream and Canadian bacon. Daddy, Andrea, and Zeb made a furtive grab at whatever food Jolene hadn’t claimed.

When Daddy finally took a break from grilling Dick and Gabriel about their nineteenth-century childhoods, Gabriel took Dick into the parlor and handed him a little leather portfolio containing the deed to the Cheney family manse. Considering that they’d spent the evening gambling, I took this as a bad sign. But it seemed to be something that Gabriel had been thinking about for a long time.

“I want you to have it back,” he told Dick. “There’s no way I can ever really repay you for being the kind of friend Jane needed, but I can give you this.”

“I can’t,” Dick protested. “You know what that bet cost us. To take it back now would just make it all pointless.”

“Not to be rude, but it was all pointless,” I noted from across the room. Four eyes narrowed at me. “What? I said not to be rude. That’s like saying ‘God bless them’ right after you say bad things about someone. It means it doesn’t count!”

“What are they talking about?” Daddy whispered, clearly fascinated.

“Did Dick win at cards tonight?” I asked Daddy. Daddy nodded. “Well, he tended to play drunk when he and Gabriel were human, so he usually lost. Dick lost his family’s house to Gabriel. The pair of them are so stubborn that it’s taken them this long to get over it.”

“Wow!” Daddy couldn’t have been happier than a desperate housewife watching her favorite “stories.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. I had the good sense to seem sheepish and mouth, “Love you.”

“After all you’ve done for Jane, it’s the least I can do,” Gabriel said, pressing the portfolio into Dick’s hand.

“I don’t know what to say, son. I’m sorry we let it get this far. I’ve missed having you around the last hundred or so years,” Dick said, looking the most human he had since I’d met him. He looked younger somehow, more vulnerable. He took the portfolio but then looked up, his eyes pleading. “Can I still irritate the hell out of you?”

“I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t,” Gabriel said honestly. “I think you would sicken and die.”

They shook hands and gave each other manly punches on the arm. Dick announced to Andrea that they were moving up in the world, to a deluxe antebellum home that she could redecorate to her heart’s content. Then he lovingly fed her a deviled egg. Andrea blushed, especially when Dick tried to kiss her afterward. Deviled eggs are not a sexy food.

“Does this mean that we’re going to be double-dating now?” I asked. Andrea rolled her eyes.

Gabriel’s grin was wicked. “Yes, because I think it’s only fair that since Dick got my girlfriend into a bar fight, I should be able to take his girlfriend out on the town and put her in danger while he watches. Maybe we can go to a biker convention.”

Dick growled. “Hey, Jane fared better in that fight than I did.”

“I thought you weren’t involved in the fight with Walter,” Gabriel said, his brow furrowed.

“Not that one, the other one, with Todd. The one … you don’t know about.” Dick grimaced. “Crap.”

“You got her into another bar fight?” Gabriel exclaimed. “You were supposed to be looking out for her, not
putting
her in harm’s way! That’s it. Dick, Jane, from now on, all of your play dates are supervised. Andrea, sweetheart, I’m taking you sky-diving. It’s only fair.”

Daddy laughed and headed into the kitchen for another round of beers. Andrea climbed into Dick’s lap and suggested alternative activities, such as bull riding, swimming the Ohio River during peak barge traffic, motocross racing without helmets, and letting me cook for her. Dick’s scowl grew deeper with each suggestion. Having finished the world’s most disgusting sundae, Jolene was propped up against Zeb’s side, both of their hands gravitating to her enormous belly. Jettie was distracted from inventorying Jolene’s loot with a fond pat on the cheek from Mr. Wainwright.

I had a family. A family that loved me, without judgment, without reserve. And my parents had somehow fallen right into this motley crew and were enjoying themselves. Sure, there were blood relatives out there who couldn’t stand the sight of me, but I could fall back on these people. They would fight for me, kiss my booboos, take me out for tequila shooters when life got me down. I didn’t need more than that. All was right with my world.

So, it made sense that my grandma Ruthie chose this moment to come storming through the door.

“Jane Enid Jameson!” she thundered, slamming the door behind her. Grandma was in a fine froth, her snowy white hair frazzled and her cheeks flushed. She was dressed in a pink and orange plaid pantsuit, the kind of thing that would send Aunt Jettie into a giggle fit when she was living. Apparently, it worked its wonders after death, too, because my ghostly aunt was laughing her invisible ass off. And she wasn’t alone.

“Enid?” Dick snickered.

I ignored Dick’s low laughter as Grandma screeched, “How could you embarrass your sister that way? She told me what you did at the Chamber of Commerce meeting. How could you? You know how important her public image is with this new business she’s starting. How dare you attempt to sabotage her by telling prominent members of our community that she’s—”

“Related to me?” I tried to keep my voice calm as I said, “Grandma Ruthie, as you can see, I have guests. Maybe we can have this discussion at another time.“

“Don’t you tell me when and where I can talk to you, young lady!” she yelled. “This is your mother’s house. I’ll come and go as I please.”

“Mama, what is all this fuss about?” my mother asked as she came out of the kitchen. “Just calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Sherry,” Grandma Ruthie snapped. “It’s bad enough that you’ve continued to let Jane into your home, but now you’re letting her drag her undesirables into your living room? Hosting parties for them? This foolishness has gone on long enough.”

“Don’t talk like that in front of my friends,” I told my grandmother.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Jolene said, transfixed by the family feud unfolding in front of her. I’m sure it was a novelty for her, considering that most McClaine family disputes ended in both parties phasing and proving their werewolf fighting skills. Usually naked.

“
These
are your friends?” Grandma Ruthie sneered, observing my motley group, my chosen family. “
These
are the type of people you spend time with under your great-great-grandfather’s roof?”

“Watch it, Grandma,” I warned her, seeing the expression of insult on Andrea’s face. Dick, on the other hand, was used to that sort of comment and remained unperturbed.

“Now, let’s all just calm down,” Mama said in a different tone from the one she normally used during these confrontations. She wasn’t trying to placate Grandma. She was just trying to keep us from coming to blows in her parlor. That was weird.

Grandma drew herself up to her full height and used her matriarch voice. “I will speak my mind, Jane.”

“Well, then, you’ll speak it in the kitchen.” I put my hand under Grandma’s elbow and not-quite-gently led her through the kitchen’s swinging door.

Mama warned, “Now, Jane, be careful.”

“Mama, I’m not going to hurt her.” I sighed.

“No, no, I know that,” Mama assured me. “It’s just that all of my nice dishes are sitting out on the counter. Try not to break anything.”

I barked out a laugh. “Mama!”

“Oh, she’s had it coming for years,” Daddy told me. “Your mama’s just not ready to do it herself yet.”

“I’m working on it,” Mama promised. “She can’t keep talking to you that way. I’ve let it go on for far too long. Maybe if I’d stood up to her years ago, we’d have a better relationship. You and I might have had a better relationship. I’m trying to set some boundaries with her, honey, but she’s so old. And I’m so—”

“Scared of her?” I suggested.

Mama nodded. “Give her hell, baby.”

That said, I squared my shoulders and marched into the kitchen to face off with my tiny septuagenarian foe.

“Be as rude to me as you’d like,” I told her. “But don’t ever insult the people in that room in my presence, do you understand me?”

“Don’t you talk to me that way,” Grandma snapped. “You were raised to have respect for your elders, Jane.”

“I was raised to have respect for people who show respect to me. That’s something you have never done. Now, why don’t you go home to your half-dead fiancé and let me and Jenny figure out our issues for ourselves?”

Grandma stamped her size-six orthopedic shoe. “You will apologize to your sister, Jane. And you will end this foolishness with the lawsuit and give Jenny her share of the Early legacy. I command it.”

I goggled at the raging geriatric before me and then burst out laughing so loudly that Gabriel stuck his head through the doorway to check on me. I waved him away as I leaned against the counter for support and let the bloody tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said, giggling. “Did you just
command
me to do something? Have we met? Has that ever worked for you? Jenny got her share of the ‘Early legacy.’ She took it, out of the house one piece at a time, without asking. And so did you. You’ve been smuggling valuables out of that house since Aunt Jettie’s funeral. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Let me tell you something about your precious aunt Jettie,” Grandma spat.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Aunt Jettie squinting at the dry-erase marker Mama kept on her refrigerator. She grasped it and began to scrawl on the front of the fridge. Ruthie’s face froze in horror as an invisible hand eked out, “Ruthie … This is Jettie … I need … to tell you … you’ve gotten fat.”

“Jane, I don’t know how you’re doing that, but stop it. It’s morbid,” Grandma scolded, her face paling.

“I’m not doing it,” I said. “I’m telepathic, not telekinetic. Aunt Jettie, maybe you shouldn’t …”

Aunt Jettie winked at me. “Honey, she’s had this coming for years.”

“Jane, stop that right now!” Grandma yelled as Jettie called her a “natural brunette,” underlining “natural” three times.

“It’s not me, it’s Jettie,” I said. “She’s been haunting the house ever since she died. I wasn’t able to see her until I was turned.”

“Of all the sick jokes,” Grandma Ruthie spat. “How dare you use my sister’s memory this way!”

“Oh, come on, you can believe in vampires but not in ghosts?”

Grandma Ruthie sneered at me.

I sighed. “What if I told you something that only Jettie would know?” I asked as Jettie leaned in to whisper in my ear.

Grandma’s mouth flapped open like a beached guppy’s. “I’m not going to—”

“Aunt Jettie says that if you don’t cut me some slack, she’s going to visit your mother and tell her all about what you were doing in Edgar Oliver’s backseat when you were supposed to be at Bible study.”

Ruthie blanched. “How could you—my mother’s dead.”

“Yes, but Jettie can go over to the Half-Moon Hollow Women’s Clubhouse anytime she wants and visit Grandma Bebe. That’s the way ghosts work. They can haunt wherever they choose, move from place to place. They even visit each other.”

OK, that last part was a total bluff. Grandma Bebe was a sweet old lady who had no unfinished needlework, much less unfinished business, when she died. She moved into the light a long time ago. But Ruthie didn’t know that. And I told her that so I could tell her this: “Jettie’s even visited Grandpa Fred a few times. He’s haunting the golf course.”

Jettie cackled with glee as Ruthie’s cheeks drained of color. “You tell her to stay away from my Fred.”

“Tell her yourself, Grandma. She can hear you. Much better, in fact, than she could in life. Besides, you’re engaged. Why should you care? And I don’t think he’s your Fred anymore. Remember till death do us part? He’s dead. You’ve parted. Grandpa Fred’s on the market again.”

Ruthie turned a sickly white under her artfully applied Elizabeth Arden powder. “You lifeless Jezebel! You stay away from my Fred!”

At this point, it seemed a moot point to note that Aunt Jettie had actually broken up with Grandpa Fred earlier this year to take up with Mr. Wainwright. Aunt Jettie, obviously enjoying Grandma’s discomfort, seemed to think so, too.

“They can’t … all be yours. Though you … certainly had more … than your share,” Jettie scribbled out in surprisingly legible script.

“Dried-up old maid!” Ruthie yelled.

“Black widow!” the refrigerator spat back.

“Unclean spirit!” Ruthie gasped.

“Varicose-veined ho!” Jettie scrawled, prompting an indignant gasp from Grandma.

“I will not stand here in my daughter’s home and be insulted!” Ruthie shrieked. “Jane, you tell your great-aunt that I will not set foot in River Oaks until she can keep a civil tongue in her skull—which, by the way, never had the bone structure I have. And she was always jealous!”

“She can—”

The door slammed in dramatic fashion.

“Hear you.” I finished.

Jettie slumped to the floor, clearly exhausted by her telekinetic efforts.

“That was awesome,” I marveled. “Telling Grandma everything you’ve ever thought about her doesn’t mean you have closure and you’re moving on, does it? I was just getting used to having you around.”

Aunt Jettie reached up to stroke her transparent hand along my cheek. “No, I could have insulted Ruthie while I was living. I’m sticking with you, kiddo.”

“Lucky me.” I chuckled. “My relationship with Grandma isn’t ever going to change, is it?”

Aunt Jettie led me over to the swinging door, where my friends were crowded, listening. “No, baby, it’s not. You and Ruthie have exactly the kind of relationship you want with each other. It was the same with us. Ruthie and I chose not to like each other. I’m not saying that’s right, but it’s the way things are. There’s no law that says families have to be best friends. You can choose your own family, which you have. Of course, you can also choose to want a better relationship with people you were born to. It’s up to you. Until then, sit at the fountain of my experience and learn Ruthie’s weak points.”