The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies

Mrs. Lacy said testily, “I wish you wouldn’t, Elizabeth. You know my opinion of Clara Bow.”


“Yes, I know, Mama. But—”

“And don’t you think we could have supper first?” Her voice tightened. “There’s something we need to talk about, Elizabeth. Something important. Surely you can spare a little time for your mother, can’t you?”

Lizzy straightened her shoulders. “Of course I can. But not tonight, Mama. Verna and Myra May and I are going to have supper together before the movie.” She tried to put a smile into her voice. “How about if you come over here tomorrow after church?” Her mother was Presbyterian and never missed a service. “We can have Sally-Lou’s meat loaf and potato salad for our dinner. Will that do instead?”

“I suppose it’ll have to,” her mother said reluctantly. She heaved a plaintive sigh. “I just wish you were goin’ out with Mr. Alexander tonight, Elizabeth. He is such a fine, upstandin’ Christian young man and comes from such a good family. His mother sits in the pew right behind mine every Sunday morning. You could do worse than marry him. And of course you don’t want to live out your life as a tragic old maid.”

“Yes, Mama,” Lizzy said. She didn’t point out that Grady never accompanied his mother to church, either, and that for a fine, upstanding Christian young man, he’d been awful hot and heavy-handed in the front seat of his blue Ford coupe the last time he’d taken her out. They’d gone to see Gary Cooper in The Virginian, and then driven out to watch the moon from the hill above the fairgrounds. Lizzy had finally had to get out of the car and take a cooling-off walk.

“Well, then, don’t forget,” her mother said. “Sunday school starts at nine. You can wear that nice new blue hat I made you.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Mama, we’ve been over this a hundred times. Sunday is the only day I get to sleep a little late. You just come on over here when you get home and we’ll have a nice Sunday dinner together. I’ve got some fresh string beans I can cook up with onions and fatback, the way you like them.” And when they were eating, she would tell her mother that it had been wrong to copy that key. She would have to give it back, or promise not to use it except in an emergency, or— “I would go with you to the movies,” her mother said petulantly, “if I was asked. And if you weren’t goin’ to see Clara Bow. You know how I feel about that immoral woman. I wouldn’t go into a movie house that was showin’ one of her films.” Mary Pickford was the only movie actress Mrs. Lacy admired (Pollyanna was her favorite, along with Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm), but even Miss Pickford’s star had dimmed in Mrs. Lacy’s eyes since the actress had bobbed her hair and married Douglas Fairbanks, who, as everybody knew, led a rake’s life out there in Hollywood, where it was said that nobody paid any attention to Prohibition. Marriage to him could not be good for Miss Pickford’s moral character.

“Yes, ma’am,” Lizzy said, glad now that she had mentioned Clara Bow. “Well, then. Sunday dinner after church. All right?”

“All right,” her mother said. “And don’t forget, y’hear, Elizabeth? There is somethin’ impo’tant that we need to talk about, and it can’t be put off. It’s got to be discussed now, before either of us gets a day older.”

With a long sigh, Lizzy put the receiver back in its cradle. Once every few months, her mother came up with “something impo’tant” they needed to discuss and would pester her nonstop until they sat down and talked. The last time, it had been the green straw hat that her mother was making. She couldn’t decide between big red silk rosettes and a red veil or small white silk daisies and a white veil, and needed Lizzy’s advice.

What was it this time?





THREE





Verna Is Rebuffed


Verna watched Liz walk off down Camellia Street, heading for home. She hesitated a moment, then turned and went the other way, hurrying a little, so that by the time she got to the corner of Camellia and Rosemont and started north, toward the courthouse square, she could see Miss LaMotte. Except for the business section of town, there were no sidewalks in Darling, and Miss LaMotte was making very slow forward progress on those silly high heels, which were suitable for city sidewalks only. If Verna wanted to, she could have caught up.