The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies

Myra May, on the other hand, wasn’t anybody’s idea of feminine—or pretty, either, for that matter. She was the only woman in town who wore belted trousers every day of the week (including Sundays) and was trim enough to look good in them. She had a square jaw, a strong mouth, a long, horsey nose, and an intense, questioning look that made people wonder if their ties were crooked or they had spinach between their teeth. She was a serious, practical person with a reputation for saying exactly what she thought, regardless of how she thought you were going to feel about it, and for making up her mind without shilly-shallying around. She had a tendency to answer in short, brusque sentences, and any man who got up enough nerve to ask her out once usually didn’t repeat the request.

After Myra May graduated from the University of Alabama with a major in Domestic Science and a minor in Education, she decided that she really didn’t have the patience to be a teacher. She also decided that she probably didn’t have the patience to be somebody’s wife, either, and by the time she was thirty and had gone out with all the available men in Darling, she was sure of it. One of the charter members of the Darling Dahlias, she certainly had her share of friends and loyal supporters, but people who did not like strong, direct, no-nonsense women had a tendency to keep their distance.

So it came as something of a surprise to folks when Myra May and Violet became fast friends. Whether it was because Violet was looking for somebody who would steady her down, or Myra May was looking for somebody who would lighten her up, nobody could be sure. But it wasn’t long before they moved in together and began to talk about starting a business of their own. When they heard that Mrs. Hooper was thinking of selling out, they got excited about the possibilities and began investigating right away.

The diner’s location between the Dispatch building and Musgrove’s Hardware, right across from the courthouse, made it especially handy for people who had courthouse business around the noon hour and wanted to catch a quick bite. The building needed some painting and fix-up, but the kitchen appliances and equipment were in good shape and the counters, stools, and tables were all fair-to-middling. But best of all was the diner’s outstanding reputation for good food at reasonable prices.

The two women inspected the property and discussed the matter upside down and backward. In the end, they decided to buy both the diner and Mrs. Hooper’s half-interest in the Exchange, which meant that they now owned half of the town’s telephone system. They imposed only one condition: that Euphoria Hoyt (who was still known as the best chicken fryer in southern Alabama) would continue to cook and manage the kitchen. Myra May traded her house for her share of the business, and Violet put up all the cash she had and some she borrowed from her sister in Memphis, and the deal was done and everybody was happy—including Euphoria, who took a shine to both of her new bosses. And before long, the customers at the diner (who had been a little skeptical about the new management) were very happy, too, because Myra May kept the food moving efficiently from Euphoria’s skillet to the customers’ plates and Violet kept on smiling in her sweet and friendly way.

It was a good situation all the way around.





Before Lizzy went into the diner that evening, she paused to read the headline of the Mobile Register on the wire newspaper rack beside the gray-and-red-painted pay telephone booth that had recently been installed outside the diner.

HOOVER SET TO CREATE COMMITTEE FOR UNEMPLOYMENT RELIEF, the newspaper headline announced. Lizzy shook her head doubtfully. She was no fan of the president, who had come into office before the Crash and seemed to be stuck on the idea that any “relief” for the unemployed ought to come through volunteers and private charities. Would this committee be any different from the others that had tried to mobilize volunteer efforts? Lizzy had no problem where charity was concerned—everybody ought to pitch in and help out where they could. But it was high time that government stepped up and did its part, too. Happily, there was another headline, much more appealing, and she bent over to read it: SIXTH GAME SERIES WIN FOR PHILLY ATHLETICS OVER ST. LOUIS CARDINALS. That would make Grady smile. He was an Athletics’ fan.

Myra May was behind the counter when Lizzy opened the door and went in. Since it was Saturday night, Euphoria was frying catfish instead of chicken, and the plates were heaped with mashed potatoes, cream gravy, and a choice of beans, cabbage slaw, or fried okra, along with hush puppies and sweet tea or coffee—all for thirty cents. A slice of pecan pie (the usual Saturday special) was another dime, but Euphoria cut her pie into sixths, rather than the usual eighths, so it was worth the extra money.