The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies

“How about Violet’s mother?” Verna asked. “Can’t she help?”


“She died a couple of years ago,” Myra May replied, her voice muffled. “There aren’t any other relatives, on either side of the family.” She raised her head and pushed her pie plate away. “Sorry, girls. I don’t much feel like eating dessert. I’d just rather . . . rather be alone, I guess.”

“We understand, Myra May.” Verna stood and picked up the empty plates and cups. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Come on, Liz. It’s past ten. Time we were heading home.”

Lizzy got up, too, then bent and dropped a quick kiss onto her friend’s dark curls. Myra May always appeared tough and in control, and she never liked to show her feelings. It was as if she were a turtle, retreating inside its shell when something threatened. But she was far more vulnerable than she looked, and Lizzy knew she was hurting.

“We’re here if you need us,” she said quietly. “All you have to do is call.”

As if that were a signal, the switchboard buzzed. Myra May stood and picked up her coffee cup. “Well, that’s it,” she said wearily. “Feelin’ sorry time is over. Gotta go to work.” She gave her friends a crooked grin. “Just a bowl of cherries, huh? Wonder whose life that idiot is singing about. Nobody I know.”

As Myra May went in the direction of the switchboard, Lizzy and Verna let themselves out the diner’s front door, locking it behind them.

The streetlights around Darling’s courthouse square, installed a couple of years before, were always turned off at nine thirty to save on electricity. Even on dark nights, this didn’t much matter, since the movie was usually over by nine and everybody was home by the time the lights went out. But tonight there was a moon, nearly full, hanging like a huge silver coin in the eastern sky, turning the silent street into a moving tapestry of lights and shadows. There wasn’t a sound except for the distant sputtering of an automobile and the sharp yap-yap-yapping of a small dog, somewhere a little closer.

Lizzy looked up at the moon swimming in a sky full of stars, and was glad that the streetlights were off. She took a deep breath, loving the warm dark and the fragrance of honeysuckle. She felt terribly sorry for Violet and for the new little baby, who would never know her mother. But she felt even sorrier for all the people, everywhere, who had to live and work in big cities like Memphis and Chicago, where there was crime and lawlessness and ugliness everywhere they looked. They would never know how it felt to live in a safe and beautiful place like Darling, where people cared about each other and about their little town.

Verna gave her a sharp look. “You okay about walking home alone, Lizzy?”

“Of course,” Lizzy said. Home was just a couple of blocks away. Daffodil would be waiting for her, and her own sweet little house, and the companionable screech owl that lived in the live oak outside her bedroom window. “And this is Darling, you know.”

“Yeah, it’s Darling,” Verna said. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be careful.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her skirt. “Wonder what Myra May will do if Violet decides to stay in Memphis to take care of that baby.”

“I don’t know,” Lizzy said, shaking her head. “I’ve been wondering that, too. Times are tough. People have to make hard choices. But we have to look on the bright side. Whatever Violet does, it’ll be the right thing. I hope.”

“Yeah,” Verna said again. “I hope so, too. But the right thing for some folks is sometimes the wrong thing for others.” She let that hang in the air for a moment, then said, “Don’t forget. We’re talking to Bessie Bloodworth right after the meeting tomorrow. About Miss Jamison.” She grinned. “Also known as Lorelei LaMotte.”

“I won’t forget,” Lizzy said. “Good night, Verna.” She turned and began to walk down the street.

Verna turned to go the other way, took a few steps, then stopped and flung out her arms. “Don’t take it serious,” she called. She did a little soft-shoe shuffle. “Life’s too mysterious.”

Lizzy laughed and waved, then headed home, feeling a little lighter. Life might not be a bowl of cherries, but you could always find something that would cheer you up—as long as you lived in Darling, anyway.





FIVE





The Roof Falls In