JU03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding Page 6

  * * *

  By the time I drove to Delmont and beyond, out Springer Road toward the Hillandale Trailer Park, I was even more incensed. Little Lloyd accompanied me, sitting in the passenger seat, occasionally cutting his eyes at me with concern.

  “Little Lloyd,” I said, “I’ll tell you one thing. It is a heavy responsibility to own things. If it’s not a roof leaking, it’s a furnace that’s out. And as the owner, you are responsible for seeing that it’s fixed, even when it’s an act of God, as the insurance people say. And does it come at a convenient time? No, sir, it does not. Just let yourself get busy with something important, and here comes another complaint. Or insurance bill. Or tax bill. Well.” I sighed. “Heavy hangs the head that bears the burden.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I’m just saying that I’m glad you came with me. It’ll be good for you to see what you’re in for as a property owner. Eventually, you’ll be taking care of what you own, and maybe mine as well. In fact, if I remember right, this is one of the properties that belongs to both of us. So take note.”

  I turned in at the gravel road that ran through the middle of Hillandale Trailer Park. Gravel had run off the side, leaving ruts and ridges in the road, and I had to slow considerably. Dust boiled up behind us, settling across the trailers as we passed.

  “I guess,” I murmured, “I ought to have this scraped and more gravel put on.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Little Lloyd said, as he looked out his window at the grassless yards and the metal trailers baking in the sun. Lord, it was barely June. What would it be like in August?

  “Maybe,” he went on, “you could have the road paved, and cut down on some of this dust.”

  “That’d be nice, I’m sure. But an owner has to balance out his income with his expenses, and not get too carried away.” I leaned over to look through the side window. “I believe this is where Miss Wiggins lives. You remember her, don’t you? She was visiting when the power went out in that last ice storm we had.” The one who’d made a fool of herself over that race-truck driver, I almost said but didn’t.

  “Yessum, I do. She was Mr. Sam’s nurse who he liked so much.”

  “Huh,” I said under my breath. Then, “Now, Little Lloyd, you must learn to treat all people with respect, especially those who don’t have as much as you do. This young woman apparently has nowhere else to live but in a tin trailer on rented property, although I must say her place looks better kept than most of them.” I turned in behind an old, sagging car that I recognized as Miss Wiggins’s, and looked around. There was a plastic awning over the door on the side of the trailer that threw a green shadow over a poured concrete porch. An aluminum chair and a pot of geraniums decorated the entrance.

  “Well, let’s see if we can get through this without too much trouble,” I said, opening the car door.

  Little Lloyd followed me to the shade of the awning, but before I could knock on the door, Miss Wiggins opened it and stepped out to meet us. Right there, she made her first mistake with me. She should’ve invited us inside, unless there was something or somebody she didn’t want us to see.

  “Miss Wiggins,” I said, acknowledging her with a formal nod of my head. “I’ve come to see what the problem is, and I sincerely hope that there’ll be no more talk of a lawsuit.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but it’s not me that’s talking lawsuit. I was just passing on what I’d heard.”

  She looked ill at ease, standing there clasping her hands together. I imagined that she was remembering the run-ins we’d had at our other meetings, from which I’d always come out the better.

  “Well, tell me what’s going on. Oh, excuse me,” I said, taken up short for forgetting my own courtesies. “You remember Little Lloyd, don’t you? Say hello to Miss Wiggins, Little Lloyd.”

  He smiled and held out his hand, making me proud. “Hello, Miss Wiggins.”

  “Hi,” she said, a broad smile lighting up her face. It pained me to admit it, but she was not unattractive. Her personality, though, was another matter. Grating, I’d call it. She shook the child’s hand, and asked about his mother. I kept forgetting that Hazel Marie had grown up around this part of the county, and that Miss Wiggins was surely familiar with Hazel Marie’s long-term attachment to my husband.

  For that matter, she knew who Little Lloyd was, too. That meant she could see right through me. Suddenly I didn’t feel at all comfortable in her presence.

  “Now, Miss Wiggins, we don’t have all day, so tell me what’s going on.”

  “Well, everybody in the park, just about, has been missing things.” She turned and pointed down the graveled street. “The Barnhardts in that second trailer over there are missing a yard chair. The Crenshaws’re missing a barbeque grill, and Miguel Martinez’s remote control is gone. And that was from inside his trailer.” She turned and pointed in the other direction. “Carrie Munson, who lives about five trailers down, lost every bag of Fritos and potato chips she had, and she’d just gone to the Wal-Mart super store to stock up. And I’m missing two bags of hard candy that I keep to give to my elderly patients. A lot of them don’t have enough teeth to chew, but they love the hard kind that’ll melt in their mouths. Now it’s all gone.”

  Her shoulders seemed to slump with the injustice of it all. Then with renewed energy, she said, “Just all of a sudden, seems like, things’re missing from one trailer or the other. Oh, and my neighbor across the street there, her son’s bicycle is gone. And it had a flat tire. I mean, who would want it?”

  “Well,” I said with some relief, “it doesn’t seem that anything of value has been stolen. In fact, a lot of what you mentioned could just be lost.”

  “No, Mrs. Springer,” she said, shaking her head. “We formed like a search party, and looked all over, in and around all the trailers. Those things aren’t just lost; they’re gone.” She closed her eyes for a second, as if she needed to gather strength. Then she looked at me straight on with her hard blue eyes, and said, “Those things may not sound like much to you, but they’re things that people spent money on and not many of us can afford to spend twice on something. But the worst thing is that we never know when or where whoever it is, is going to strike next. At first we thought the same as you did, that they’d just been lost. But would everybody start losing things at the same time? I think not. And I didn’t even tell you everything that’s been stolen. I have a list inside. I’ll get it for you.”

  “No need, Miss Wiggins. I understand the problem, and I’m trying to figure out what to do about it. I’ll certainly see about replacing the lights, and I’ll dress down Mr. Carter for his negligence. In addition, I’ll speak to someone at the sheriff’s department about putting a regular patrol out here. But a fence around all of this is out of the question. I think a better solution would be to assign some of the residents here to set up a watch at night. You people need to take some responsibility for looking after yourselves.”

  A flush spread across the young woman’s face, and I realized that you people might’ve been a poor choice of words.

  She lifted her head and gave me another hard look. “I told the others we couldn’t expect you to do anything and I was right. So I guess we people are on our own. Thank you for coming out; I’m sorry I bothered you.” And she turned on her heel and went inside the trailer, closing the door firmly behind her.

  “Well,” I said, pursing my mouth. “If that isn’t the rudest thing. Come on, Little Lloyd, no need to stand here any longer.”

  We got back in the car, and I drove slowly through a cloud of dust until we were on a paved road. Somehow, the farther away we went, the more troubled I was about the exchange. I knew I was right. I mean, what could I do? Still, I felt that I hadn’t come off in the best light.

  “Miss Julia?” Little Lloyd looked over at me. “We could hire somebody to stay out there for a while. I mean, like an off-duty deputy. Coleman told me that a lot of them take extra jobs like that.”

  “You think we ought to?”

&
nbsp; “Yessum, I do.” He was quiet for a minute, thinking over the problem as he usually did. “The worst thing, I think, is not knowing who’s sneaking around. If I lived there, I don’t think I’d ever get to sleep at night.”

  It’d never entered my head that I would ever live in such a place, so it surprised me that the child could picture himself doing it. “What else would you want done if you lived there?” I asked.

  “I’d want that street paved. And, let me see, I guess I’d want a fence around the park. Did you see down at the end of that street? Looked like a dump on the other side of that line of trees. I’ll bet there’re stray dogs and, maybe, some tramps or something that pick through the trash. They could just walk right into the trailer park anytime they wanted to. And I’d want Mr. Carter fired. He’s not taking care of things, Miss Julia. He should’ve been the one to notify you of the problems they’re having.”

  “I declare, Little Lloyd,” I said, with an approving glance. “Here I was thinking you were too tenderhearted, but I see you have a businessman’s mind. All right, I think we’ve just had a board meeting. First thing Monday, I want you to call all the fencing companies in town and get some estimates. Then, as soon as the wedding’s over and things calm down, we’ll contract for a fence. It’ll cost us, but I expect we can take it off our taxes as a capital improvement. In the meanwhile, I’ll deal with Mr. Carter. Just as soon as he replaces those lightbulbs, and I find somebody to replace him.”

  We smiled at each other, both of us pleased with our management strategy and how well we worked together. It’s never too early to teach a child the ins and outs of business. Although Little Lloyd’s first lesson was going to cost me an arm and a leg to fence the place in. Still, there was some satisfaction in knowing that I was thinking of doing something that Wesley Lloyd wouldn’t’ve done in a million years.

  We were on the other side of Delmont by the time Little Lloyd worked himself up to another worry.

  “Miss Julia? I bet I know who’s doing all that stealing.”

  “Who?”

  “I bet it’s that ole Dixon Hightower, don’t you?”

  Chapter 8

  That night, as Lillian cleared the table before serving her lemon chiffon pie, I brought my guests up to date on what Hazel Marie and I had accomplished during the day.

  Then Binkie got down to business. “So what’s left to do, Miss Julia? Sounds like everything’s about done.”

  “Not even halfway,” I said. “We’ve been on the phone all day, and everybody we’ve talked to is coming. But, I’ll tell you something, Binkie, there’re people you’ve overlooked, like the sheriff, for instance. And what about a county commissioner or two and some of the judges you know? You have to think of your future, both of you. You may not be particularly close to these people, but they’ll consider it an honor to be asked and they’ll remember it. They can do you good down the line.”

  Binkie twisted her mouth, but finally gave in. “I hate to ask them just because I’m supposed to, but okay. That’ll bring the count up to fifty or sixty, though. Can we get all of them in here?”

  “I’m sure we can. The living room will be a nice-sized room, once I have the furniture moved out. You’ll be surprised how much space we’ll have with that heavy sofa gone, the chairs and that huge desk. And the whatnot that I’ve been wanting rid of ever since Wesley Lloyd insisted on putting it in there. I intend to move everything out to make room for the chairs and piano. That rental place closed at one o’clock today and I had to track the man down at home. He was pleasant enough when he heard what all I wanted to order.”

  Hazel Marie, her face glowing in the light of the candles on the table, said, “We’re going to set up the chairs so there’s an aisle for you to walk down, Binkie.” Mr. Pickens sat across from her, his black eyes watching her every move. “It’s going to be lovely.”

  “Where will I walk from? The kitchen and through the dining room or from the porch?” Binkie laughed. “Or maybe I’ll swing in through the window on a vine.”

  “Oh, Binkie,” I said. “From the stairs, of course. The only problem with that is if you have a dress with a train, every time you take a step down the stairs, the thing’ll come swishing down around your feet and be a hazard to life and limb.”

  “Little Lloyd could help with that,” Sam chimed in, surprising me that he knew the first thing about weddings. “He could hold it up for her as she comes down the stairs, then spread it out at the bottom. Isn’t somebody supposed to do that, anyway?”

  “Yes, they are, Sam,” I said. “And that’s an excellent idea. Little Lloyd, don’t look so anxious, you’ll do fine.”

  “I’m not going to have a train,” Binkie said. “So forget that little chore, Lloyd. No, we’re both going to wear jeans. Coleman’s going to wear a Duke sweatshirt, and I have a Wake Forest one that’ll look great with a veil.”

  “Oh!” I gasped. “Binkie, you can’t.”

  “She’s teasing you, Miss Julia,” Coleman said, laughing.

  They all joined him, laughing, and so did I after a while. Though with Binkie, you could never tell.

  “Rest assured, Miss Julia,” she said. “I won’t shock you. In fact, I’m going to the Asheville Mall tomorrow afternoon and look for something to wear. I’d better find it, too, because it’s the only free time I’ll have.”

  “What kind of dress will you look for?” Hazel Marie asked.

  “Something plain and simple. No Southern belle type for me, all lace and satin and beads and veils. And certainly not one with a cathedral train or even the smaller one, whatever it’s called.”

  “Chapel,” I said.

  “Huh?” Coleman said.

  “Chapel train, the short one.”

  “You’ll be beautiful in anything,” Hazel Marie said, leaning toward her. “What’re you going to wear in your hair, if you don’t want a veil?”

  “Oh,” Binkie said, squishing up her curls with both hands, which didn’t do them a bit of good. “Probably put a paper sack over it. It’s just awful.”

  “I like it,” Coleman said, smoothing down what she’d left sticking up.

  “Let me fix it, Binkie,” Hazel Marie said. “I’m good with hair and I’d love to do it. You know I almost went to beauty school, so I know a few tricks of the trade. We could pull it up and back from your face, leaving a few little tendrils hanging down in front. Then, maybe a little circlet of flowers right where we gather it all up. What do you think?”

  “If you’re willing to work with this mop, I’ll be happy to let you do it. Thanks, Hazel Marie.”

  “If everybody’s finished,” I said, getting to my feet, “let’s adjourn to the living room.”

  That was a cue for Mr. Pickens to get up and hug Lillian and give her outrageous compliments on the meal. Coleman wasn’t far behind him, taking a tray out of her hands and heading to the kitchen with it. They were going to spoil her, if they didn’t watch out. But I shouldn’t’ve worried, since her favorite was still Little Lloyd, whom she invited to help her put the dishes in the dishwasher.

  As we settled ourselves in the living room, Hazel Marie said, “I’m so happy to be in your wedding, Binkie. It’s going to be so much fun.” She reached over and put her hand on Mr. Pickens’s arm. “Isn’t it, J.D.?”

  “Sure is,” he said, and stifled a yawn.

  “So,” I said, as Sam scooted his chair closer to mine. I fingered the glass buttons on the bodice of my gray silk, and paid no attention to him. “You have a best man and a bridesmaid. Who else is in the wedding party? You’ll need some ushers, Coleman, to show people which side of the aisle to sit on.”

  “All settled,” Coleman said. “J.D. and Little Lloyd’re going to usher, along with a couple of guys from the department.”

  “Oh, excellent. But tell them not to wear their uniforms. Cutaways would be the thing for the time of day. Hazel Marie, we’ll have to get Little Lloyd fitted for his, first thing Monday.”

  “If we have to dress
up,” Binkie said, “I’d rather have dinner jackets. They’ll look nice on a warm afternoon.”

  I took a deep breath, not wanting to contradict her, but it was my duty to point out the obvious. “Binkie, white dinner jackets are very handsome, but they’re not worn until after seven o’clock, and since we’ve decided on four, I’m afraid they won’t be appropriate.”

  “Let’s do it anyway,” she said, smiling as if inappropriateness was all the more reason to do it. “Nobody will know the difference. Coleman, tell them who else you’ve asked.”

  Coleman put his arm across the back of the sofa and smiled at her, then looked up at me. “Miss Julia’s going to love this. I’ve asked Lieutenant Peavey to be the soloist.”

  “Coleman!” I said, nearly choking. “You can’t be serious. The man can hardly open his mouth, he’s so rigid and uptight. I can’t imagine he can sing.” All I could picture was that cold, hard face with the black sunglasses reflecting my frightened face. Lieutenant Peavey and I were not exactly what you’d call congenial.

  “He can sing, all right,” Coleman assured me. “He’s the soloist at his church, and he’s sung at the weddings of several deputies. He’s good, Miss Julia, I promise. He’ll surprise you.”

  Telling myself again that it was their wedding, but doubting that Lieutenant Peavey would add any gaiety to the occasion, I said, “That brings up something else. I’m having trouble finding somebody to play the piano. Every trained musician in town is already engaged. Could Lieutenant Peavey bring his own accompanist?”

  “I’ll ask him,” Coleman said, which allowed me to put that little problem on hold without bringing up Miss Mattie Mae Morgan.