The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies

“Yes’m, Miss Lizzy, I has,” Sally-Lou said, and paused, turning the silence into the unspoken question: Why you askin’ me ’bout this?

Sally-Lou had been fourteen when Mrs. Lacy hired her to take care of two-year-old Lizzy. An orphan, she had been a long-limbed, gangly girl, as black as night, young enough to play games and sing songs with Lizzy but old enough and smart enough to make the little girl mind. Still, Lizzy had grown up thinking of her as a friend. In fact, when Mrs. Lacy had climbed up on her high horse about something or other, Sally-Lou became not only a friend but an ally and a staunch defender, adroitly helping Lizzy stay out of her mother’s way and sometimes even standing between mother and daughter. She had never married—whether by choice or happenstance, Lizzy didn’t know. But as she got older and became more sure of herself, Sally-Lou had made her own place in the household and become her own woman. If you didn’t know her, she might seem so meek that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and you might think you could push her around. But she was strong as a stick of cordwood when need be, and feisty as a banty rooster.

“I’m asking because . . . well, because I saw Miss LaMotte this afternoon,” Lizzy replied, a little lamely. “I was just wondering how they were getting along.” Actually, she was asking because it had occurred to her that maybe, via Sally-Lou and DessaRae, she could get an insider’s view of Miss LaMotte.

Sally-Lou’s reply was guarded. “It look like they done moved in to stay, is what Aunt Dessy say. Brung they clothes and suitcases an’ such.”

There wasn’t much information in that, Lizzy thought, disappointed. She tried a different question. “Is Miss Hamer happy with the new arrangement?”

What Lizzy really wanted to know was whether Miss Hamer was aware that her niece had once been a vaudeville dancer, but she didn’t think it wise to ask. Anything she said to Sally-Lou would reach DessaRae’s ears, and in this case, that might not be a good idea. Not yet, anyway.

“Miz Hamer happy?” Sally-Lou chuckled wryly. “Well, now, I don’ know ’bout that, Miss Lizzy. That ol’ lady ain’t happy wi’ much of anythin’ these days. Aunt Dessy just say the ladies are gettin’ settled is all. She ain’t seen nothin’ of Miz Lake, though. She lay low in her bedroom, don’t come out at all, even to eat her meals.”

“Hmm,” Lizzy said, thinking that this wasn’t much help, either. “Well, keep your ears open for me, would you?”

The silence stretched out a little. “If you don’ mind me askin’, how come?” Sally-Lou asked, almost warily. “Somethin’ bad goin’ on over there?”

“Oh, no,” Lizzy replied hastily. “I’m just curious, that’s all.” Before Sally-Lou could ask another question, she said, “Could I speak to Mother now?”

“Sho thing, Miss Lizzy,” Sally-Lou said. “Hang on—I get her.”

Lizzy took a deep breath. When her mother came on the line, she said, very firmly, “Thank you for fixing my hat, Mama, but tonight isn’t a good night to have supper together.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Lacy said, and heaved a pained sigh. “Whyever not, Elizabeth?” There was a brief pause, and then her usual question, tinged with hopefulness: “You and Mr. Alexander are goin’ out for supper, I s’pose.”

Grady Alexander had been Lizzy’s boyfriend, more or less, for the past year or so. Mrs. Lacy, who had gotten used to having her unmarried daughter handy whenever she was needed, had opposed the relationship at first, finding all kinds of reasons why Grady wasn’t right for Lizzy. But in the past couple of months, she seemed to have changed her mind about him and was now leaning the other way—and leaning on Lizzy about it, too.

“You’re not gettin’ any younger, you know, dear,” she said, several times a week. “There aren’t that many eligible men in Darling. And he is such a fine-lookin’ gentleman.”

This sudden change of heart was a mystery, since Grady was exactly the same person he had always been. But maybe the answer was as simple as a dependable paycheck. Grady had a job in the Alabama Agricultural Department and it looked like he was going to keep it. Or maybe it was a matter of status. As the county agricultural agent, he was respected in the community. Either money or status, in Mrs. Lacy’s eyes, might have transformed him from Mr. Wrong to Mr. Right.

Lizzy took a deep breath. “No, Mama, I am not going out with Grady tonight. Myra May and Verna and I are going to the movie—just us girls. We’re going to see The Saturday Night Kid. Clara Bow stars in it.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, though, she knew she had made a mistake. Her mother didn’t approve of Clara Bow, the “It Girl.” (Nobody knew what “It” was, exactly, but everybody suspected it was “Sex Appeal.”) In fact, Mrs. Lacy had told Mr. Greer, the owner of the Palace, that he should not show any more movies starring Clara Bow, because she was nothing but pure trash.