The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose

Or she dreamed that she had just got all the checkbooks balanced when the banks started telephoning to say that a mysterious person dressed all in black had come in and withdrawn all the money. Every account was down to zero and all the county employees would have to go without their paychecks until she figured out where to get the money to cover the loss. If she didn’t find out who had it and put it back, she’d be fired.

Poor Verna had begun to feel as if she were lost in a dark and treacherous swamp, much darker and more treacherous than Briar’s Swamp, over by the river, where panthers and black bears were said to prowl amid clouds of ravenous mosquitoes. And beneath every cypress tree, there was nothing but snakes and occasional alligators and bottomless pools of black water and the smell of something rotten. The smell of trouble.

But even in her worst nightmares, Verna never dreamed that the State of Alabama would send somebody to audit the Cypress County treasurer’s accounts—and not just one somebody, but two.

The first auditor had appeared on a Wednesday morning, unannounced. He flashed a wallet card with his identification and asked Verna to bring him the county books. He spent the day going over them quickly, making cryptic notes. When the clock struck five, he put his suit coat back on, tipped his bowler hat, and disappeared, muttering that somebody from the main office would be in touch if there were further questions. Further questions? Until the auditor appeared, Verna had not known that there were any questions at all—except for her own, of course, which were legion.

Melba Jean and Ruthie had spent the whole day nervously watching the fellow. The minute their visitor left, they collapsed into their chairs with huge sighs of relief. Verna felt like doing the very same thing, but she didn’t like to appear concerned in front of the employees.

“What in the world do you think that man was looking for?” Melba Jean cried, all her chins rippling.

Ruthie laughed, twisting her mouth. “Maybe he thought we’ve been stealing money and he was trying to catch us.” Her laugh was grating, like the sound that chalk makes when you squeak it on a blackboard. “Maybe he thought we’d get on an ocean liner and sail off to Paris for a long vacation. Or Rome.” Her eyes glinted. “I’ve got me a hankerin’ to see those fountains.”

Verna winced. “Don’t talk like that, Ruthie,” she said sternly. “I am sure the man wasn’t thinking anything of the sort. It’s nothing but a routine audit. They do it all the time. Now that it’s over, we can get back to work.”

She didn’t know whether the audit was routine or not. She did, however, know that Melba Jean had a tendency to gossip about office business. In Verna’s opinion, this was a very dangerous thing, especially when the gossip had anything to do with money. People could get the wrong idea all too easily, and no telling where that would lead.

“And I don’t want you two talking about this visit outside the office,” she added emphatically. “There is no point in getting folks all excited when there’s nothing to get excited about. This was just a routine bit of business, that’s all. Happens every so often, in every county in this state. You hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two women chorused dutifully.

But from the glances they exchanged, Verna suspected that they had already spread the word when they went to lunch, which they always ate with a couple of women who worked in the Cypress County Title Company office across the street. The news would probably be all over Darling by the time for church on Sunday.

But if that happened, Verna didn’t get wind of it. The auditor’s office didn’t get back in touch, either, and she was so busy doing her work that the episode slipped into the back of her mind. She was still troubled about those tangled accounts, of course, but her nervousness over the audit eventually died down.