Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day Read online

  “Yessum, though I don’t believe she ever have no kinda shower that I remember. But she have a lot of teas, and coffees, and receptions, and the like. So we always figure out beforehand who gonna be doin’ what, so it all run smooth. So, I don’t want you to think I be tellin’ you what to do nor runnin’ yo’ business, or anything.”

  “Oh, I don’t. No, I want you to tell me. This is all so new to me, which I guess is no surprise to you, so I want your help. I want things to be the way Mr. Howard would like, so I want you to tell me.”

  “Yessum, I will, but if I tell you too much, you jus’ call me down,” Emmett said, while I shook my head at the thought. “It ’bout time for yo’ ladies, so when I hear they cars drive up, I’m gonna dim the chandelier here in the dining room and light them candles. It’ll be real pretty then, and look like party time in this ole house again.”

  “Shoot, Emmett, it already looks like party time. And here I am in this awful shirt and khaki skirt. That table’s better dressed than I am. Wonder if I have time to change.” Although I didn’t know what I could change into that would make me even come close to the first Mrs. Connard’s silver and linen table furnishings.

  Chapter 42

  When we heard the scratch of gravel from the first cars driving in, Emmett began lighting the candles in the candelabras, five in each, would you believe it? I ran a brush through my hair and put on some lip gloss in front of a gold-framed mirror in the hall. In spite of myself, I was getting excited. My first guests in my new home, as well as being my first night in my new home.

  “Emmett,” I called, “would you check on Mr. Howard now and again, in case we make too much noise and disturb him? I’ll be slipping back there, too, to see about him.”

  “Yessum, I always check on him anyway. How many ladies you think we be havin’, Miss Etta? I put out enough of that china with the gold band to serve twelve, you think that be enough?”

  “Twelve? Emmett, I’d be surprised if there’re two. This was all last-minute, you know, so I don’t know who’s coming or how many.”

  “Don’t make no difference. We got plenty, whatever show up.”

  When the doorbell rang, I started toward the door, but Emmett shook his head. “It my place to open the do’, Miss Etta. You jus’ stand a little ways back here in the foyer, then usher ’em in the drawin’ room an’ let ’em get theyselves settled an’ visitin’ while we wait for the rest of ’em.”

  Foyer? I’d thought it was the hall. But I’m the quick-learning type, and foyer was what it would be from now on.

  I could hear voices from the other side of the door, whispering and giggling with the same excitement I was feeling. I stood facing the door just like the first Mrs. Connard, Senior, had done, waiting to greet my guests in my lovely new home, even though I hardly knew my way around in it.

  Six of them came in together, with Granny shoving her way in front of Lurline, Jennie my neighbor from the trailer park, Betty Sue who was Boyce’s wife, and Cindy and Gladys, two of the Handy Home Helpers.

  “Would you just look at this,” Lurline said as she walked into the foyer, her head swiveling around to take it all in. She walked past Emmett without a glance, coming straight to me with a wrapped present in her arms. “Well, Etta Mae, you really dressed up for us, didn’t you? I declare, this place is something else. Where can we sit down? I’m a working girl, you know, and I need to take a load off.”

  “Right in there, Lurline. Hey, Granny,” I said, hugging her and getting jabbed by the corner of her present. “I’m so glad Lurline invited you. Hi, Betty Sue, Jennie. Oh, Gladys, bless your heart for coming. And, Cindy, don’t you look pretty. Y’all come on into the drawing room.”

  “Drawing room? La-de-dah,” Lurline said, almost tripping on the Oriental rug, she was so busy checking everything out.

  “Sugar,” Granny said, “where’s your toilet? It was a long drive over here, an’ I got to go.”

  “Right down the hall, I mean the foyer,” I said, pointing. “Second door on the left.”

  She hurried off, her Reeboks squeaking on the polished floor between the rugs. She looked nice, though, in the navy crepe that she wore to church when she went.

  As I turned to follow the others into the drawing room, the doorbell rang again, surprising me since I didn’t know who else Lurline would’ve invited. Emmett swung the door open, and in walked Hazel Marie and Mrs. Julia Springer, bearing gifts. I liked to died.

  “Oh,” I said, the sight of old lady Springer on my new doorstep throwing me for a loop. In she walked, her snooty nose-in-the-air attitude making me feel I’d been caught doing something wrong. And in her friend’s house, at that.

  “Oh,” I said again, pulling myself together. “I didn’t know Lurline had invited you. I mean, you didn’t have to come but, well, I’m so glad you did. Hazel Marie, you look so pretty. Come in. Come in. Mrs. Springer, here’s the drawing room, but I guess you know that. Please come in. Have a seat, why don’t you?” I was so flustered I didn’t know what I was saying, hugging Hazel Marie and waving my hands around.

  Mrs. Springer stopped in the arch of the drawing room as she surveyed the gathering of my friends in her friend’s house.

  “Well,” she said as she gazed around the room, “it speaks well of you that you haven’t changed anything, and I hope you don’t plan to. Coralee Connard had excellent taste.”

  I could’ve disputed that, but I didn’t want to get into it with her. The woman made me as nervous as a cat.

  It didn’t help any when she gave a little sniff and said, “It seems to me you’d have said yesterday that you wouldn’t be needing a job.” Like I’d let her down by not telling her about my soon-to-be change of lifestyle.

  “Oh, no, ma’am, I mean, yes, ma’am, I do need it. I mean, I won’t need it, but you know how it is, Mrs. Springer. Ladies in our position ought to set an example and not just sit around doing nothing.”

  The woman just looked down her nose and gave another sniff, but Hazel Marie grinned at me behind her back.

  As we walked on into the drawing room, I was proud for Mrs. Springer to see how nice my friends looked. Lurline had claimed one of the wingbacks by the fireplace, and she was a picture in her fuchsia polyester pantsuit with gold buttons. She had a way with scarves that I never had. She had a big one with all kinds of pinks, reds, and matching fuchsias on it draped around her neck, and pinned with a rhinestone monkey on her shoulder. I didn’t tell her because she’d make some remark about my clothes, but I really appreciated how she’d gotten so dressed up for the party.

  Jennie had on a tent dress, which she’d told me was the only kind she’d worn since the first month of her marriage. “I’ve either been pregnant or trying to lose weight from the last one every day since then,” she’d told me. “And these tent styles work regardless of the condition I’m in.” The one she was wearing had green palm leaves all over it with a few red flowers mixed in. The material looked just like the drapes at the Quality Inn at the airport.

  Betty Sue was her same quiet self, and who wouldn’t be, living next door to a talker like Granny? She sat on the edge of the camelback couch, looking like she might get up and leave any minute. She had on a turquoise pantsuit with pumps she’d had dyed to match.

  Gladys and Cindy worked for Lurline, as I’ve mentioned. Gladys had her hair pulled back in a ponytail with a big white bow on the back of her head. She wore a full skirt that she called a broomstick skirt because of all the little pleats in it and the T-shirt she’d gotten at Pigeon Forge with Dolly Parton’s picture on it. Cindy was the youngest of us. She had on the kind of dress that’s made for the skinny, less-than-curvy type of person. It was a sleeveless sheath that made you guess what was underneath, coming straight down from her shoulders to her ankle-strapped shoes with the two-inch soles. I don’t know how she walked.

  But Hazel Marie now, she’d certainly changed her way
of dressing since she’d been living with Mrs. Springer. I had to admit that the plain beige silk with matching cardigan and high-heeled slides suited her better than the bright colors she used to wear. She must’ve had her colors done, because the dress blended right in with her skin tone and hair shade. I wouldn’t even want to guess what the outfit had cost. Mrs. Springer was in one of her usual dark crepes with matching Red Cross shoes laced across the instep, every hair in place and not a wrinkle anywhere, except on her face. She was as stiff as a board, perching on the edge of the chair Emmett had pulled out for her. She kept both hands gripped on her pocketbook as she held it in her lap. Like she was afraid to turn it loose.

  I made an effort at introductions, but I wasn’t too good at it. Besides, everybody knew who everybody was.

  Every instruction Emmett had given me went straight out of my head, what with Julia Springer sitting there so straight and prim, as she looked around to see if I’d done any damage to her friend’s house. Lord, I wished Mr. Howard was in a condition to put her mind at rest and unsquench that tight mouth. I couldn’t do a thing but put up with her.

  Besides, I reminded myself, if she didn’t like it, she hadn’t had to come. But we were business associates of sorts now, and Julia Springer was known for doing the right thing in every circumstance. Even when it killed her, as seeing me in Mr. Howard’s house seemed to be doing.

  “I could live in that place,” Granny announced, as she came back from the guest bathroom. “Girls, you oughta go powder your nose, and take a gander at that fancy toilet.”

  “Sit here, Granny,” I said, leading her to a chair. “You can see everything from here. You know Mrs. Springer, don’t you? And Hazel Marie Puckett?”

  “Everybody knows the Springers and the Pucketts,” Granny said, making my stomach knot up for fear of what she’d say next. “Though I’ve not had the personal pleasure. What do you think of my grandbaby falling into something like this?”

  Before Mrs. Springer could tell her what she thought, Lurline blared out, “Where’s your husband, Etta Mae? We gonna get to meet the lucky man?”

  “Oh, well, I don’t think so. He said this was a party just for ladies, and he wouldn’t crash it.” I hurried on, not wanting to let on that a ten-minute ceremony had pooped him out for the rest of the day. “He does want to meet each and every one of you, though.”

  “I don’t blame him for not showing,” Jennie said. “What man wants to come to a lingerie shower? We’d embarrass him to death. Besides, he’ll see the presents when they’re on you, and he’ll like that better.”

  “What I want to know is,” Granny said, as everybody except Julia Springer laughed, “does that boy that opened the door do any cooking, too?”

  “Granny! Don’t call Emmett a boy,” I said, hoping he hadn’t heard her. “He’s almost as old as you are.”

  “Honey, nobody’s as old as I am, but don’t worry, sugar, I’ll watch my Ps and Qs from now on.”

  “Well, ladies,” I said to change the subject, “I guess we can go in and get something to eat now, if you’re hungry.” I stood up and helped Granny out of her chair. “The dining room is right this way.”

  “We see it, Etta Mae,” Lurline said, marching right across the hall, I mean the foyer, and up to the table. “Oh, everything’s so cute. I just love these tiny little sandwiches. You didn’t make them, did you, Etta Mae?”

  “No, Emmett did. Betty Sue, that’s the prettiest pantsuit. Did you make it yourself?”

  Betty Sue blushed and smiled. She was the shiest thing. “Yes, I ran it up on my Bernina last weekend, and this is the first time I’ve worn it.”

  “She’ll have dog hairs all over it before you turn around,” Granny said, as she loaded a plate with Emmett’s party food.

  When Lurline and Cindy found the punch bowl, they hurried back to the head of the table and poured the coffee from their china cups back into the pot. I thought Mrs. Springer would drop her plate along with her mouth.

  Lurline didn’t even notice. “It’s almost worth Etta Mae marrying that old man to have some of this punch,” she said, upending her cup and filling it again. “It’s mighty tasty, and I hope you got plenty. I’m gonna need it, after the day I’ve had, standing up at your wedding, and working overtime to make up for it. To say nothing of having to shop for your present.”

  Talking and oohing and aahing over the food and Sadie’s floral arrangement, they loaded their plates and filled their punch cups before going back into the drawing room. I noticed that the coffee and tea were going begging, although I was glad we had both for Mrs. Springer’s sake, her being Presbyterian and all. Emmett pushed through the swinging door with more punch from the kitchen to keep up with the demand, and I whispered to him, “Everybody loves that stuff.”

  “Yessum,” he whispered back, “this a special party, so I’m goin’ a little heavy on the champagne to give it more punch than it used to havin’.”

  As I walked back into the drawing room, I noticed Mrs. Springer sitting a little apart from the others, balancing her plate and a full punch cup. I raised my eyebrows at Hazel Marie, wondering if one of us ought to tell her what she was drinking. Hazel Marie smiled and shook her head, so I didn’t say anything. If Mrs. Springer wanted to drink heavy-duty punch, far be it from me to take public notice of it.

  “Where’s that ole fool you married, anyway?” Granny asked, as she settled herself in a damask-covered wing chair.

  “Sh-h-h, Granny, he’ll hear you.”

  “Old as he is, his hearing’s probably gone,” she said, draining her cup.

  “I’d go easy on that, if I was you, Granny,” Betty Sue said, knowing from personal experience what a Wiggins was like with a full tank.

  “You ain’t me,” Granny told her as she turned up the cup again for the last drop, “an’ these little fancy cups don’t hold enough to taste. Run in yonder and fill me up again, sugar. Besides, Betty Sue, you’re the one doin’ the drivin’, so spend your time watching yourself and leave me alone.”

  I took Granny’s cup and her plate for refills, hoping she’d eat enough to soak up what she was drinking. Hazel Marie followed me across the foyer and into the dining room, grinning as she headed for the punch bowl with two cups.

  She nudged me with her elbow. “This one’s Miss Julia’s. She loves this punch.”

  “I didn’t know she’d take a spiked drink.”

  “She wouldn’t,” she said, giggling, “if she knew it. But Mr. Sam Murdoch’s been trying to get her to take a little wine now and then. They’ve been seeing each other, and he likes to tease her, you know, to loosen her up. I can’t wait to tell him about this.”

  “I don’t know, Hazel Marie,” I whispered. “Maybe we ought to tell her. I don’t want her any madder at me than she already is.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll look after her and I’m driving. Let’s just let her have a good time. Besides, she said it was the best punch she’s ever tasted, and she wants Emmett’s recipe for the next Women of the Church meeting.” Hazel Marie doubled over, laughing at the thought of a bunch of tipsy Presbyterian women. “We’ll just play dumb, and let him tell her what’s in it.”

  We both turned when Lurline yelled across the foyer.

  “Y’all come on back in here, Etta Mae. It’s time you opened your presents. I want you to see what I got you. Although it’s not much, not being told in time to do anything really nice.”

  “Oh, I’m sure whatever you got will be wonderful, Lurline,” I said, as Hazel Marie and I walked back into the drawing room. “You have real good taste.”

  I served Granny, then sat down near the table that Emmett had draped with a cloth. It was loaded with presents wrapped in paper with parasol and ribbon and wedding bell motifs all over it.

  “Open mine first,” Granny said, jerking hers from beneath the pile. “You’re gonna need it, if I’m any judge.”


  I always get self-conscious opening presents when nobody else has any to open. People sitting around waiting for your reaction, watching to see if you appreciate what they’ve bought like you should. I never know what to say.

  As I pulled off the ribbon of Granny’s present, Gladys said, “Remember, now, however many ribbons you break, that’s how many babies you’ll have.”

  “Oh, no,” I cried, as the ribbon snapped apart. “Surely not.”

  Everybody laughed except Mrs. Springer, who looked like she’d experienced a sharp pain.

  “Gra-an-ny! My goodness, look at this!” I held up a long flannel gown with lace at the neck and the bottoms of the sleeves. “I’m gonna burn up sleeping in this!”

  “Not likely,” she said, emptying her cup again. “Remember your granddaddy? Take it from me, with an old man you’re gonna need some extry help. Coldest fe-e-et, you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Oh, Granny, thank you so much. I know it’ll come in handy this winter.”

  “I got it from Walmart’s. Betty Sue took me this afternoon, but I didn’t get any new Mason jars, ’cause I’m expectin’ mine back any day now.” She glared at Betty Sue, who blushed and said she’d already put up tomatoes in them.

  “Do mine next!” Cindy said, handing me a package.

  “Who wants some more?” Lurline sang out, carrying the silver pitcher she’d filled from the punch bowl. “Hold ’em up. I’m comin’ around.”

  “Oh, Cindy, it’s beautiful!” I pulled out a black bustier with ruffled detail and an underwire bra. “Good grief, Cindy, it’s so big. What size is it? You give me more credit than I deserve. I’m only a C cup, you know.” I held it up in front of me, and thought of Mr. Howard’s eyes popping out of his head when he saw it on me. Mrs. Springer’s back was getting stiffer and stiffer, although she was having trouble focusing her eyes. Probably couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  “There’s matching bikini panties in there, too,” Cindy said.