The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies

“Her brother?” Verna asked, looking puzzled.

A bright yellow butterfly lit on the clipped green grass at Bessie’s feet, fluttered its delicate wings for a moment, then flew away, dancing on the light breeze. Wishing she hadn’t spoken, Bessie straightened her shoulders and clasped her fingers in her lap.

“Anyway, the current situation is pretty straightforward,” she said, not answering Verna’s question. “Miss Hamer hasn’t been able to manage without help since the beginning of summer. She’s not bedridden yet, but nearly. DessaRae’s back finally got so bad that she couldn’t lift the old lady the way she used to, or get her into her chair or onto the chamber pot. So Doc Roberts finally put his foot down and said that Dessa Rae could do the cooking and light work, but that somebody else was going to have to do the heavy lifting. He suggested one or two ladies he knew were available, but they didn’t want to live in—and they wanted to be paid.” She chuckled drily. “And since Miss Hamer is so hard to get along with, they wanted to be paid quite a lot. One of them asked for twenty cents an hour.”

“Ah,” Verna said thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” Bessie replied. “Miss Hamer has plenty of money—in fact, she’s got more than all the rest of us put together. Some people say that she keeps it under her mattress, because she doesn’t trust Mr. Johnson at the bank.”

“I can understand that,” Liz muttered.

“But however much she’s got,” Bessie went on, “she doesn’t like to spend it. So that’s why Nona Jean is here. A few weeks ago, out of the blue, she wrote to her aunt from Chicago. Said she was wanting to come back to Alabama and wondered whether Miss Hamer could help her get a job and find a place to live.”

“Out of the blue,” Verna repeated in a meaningful tone. “It sounds as if they hadn’t been in contact over the years. Is that right?”

“I think that’s right,” Bessie replied. “Miss Jamison’s mother—Miss Hamer’s sister—has been dead going on twenty or twenty-five years. I don’t remember Miss Hamer ever mentioning that she had a niece.” Although of course it wasn’t a subject they talked about. Like the other part of the Hamer family history, which neither of them had ever mentioned to the other, at least not in the past twenty years. The Hamer and Bloodworth history, two chapters of a single story.

Verna was frowning intently, as if she were mentally sorting through a series of filing cards. “Did Miss Hamer verify who she was?”

Bessie could see where this was going and wondered why she hadn’t thought of it herself. “You mean, did the old lady get somebody to check her out? No, I don’t reckon she did. Why are you asking?”

Verna cast an I-told-you-so look at Liz, who said, rather hurriedly, “I don’t suppose Miss Jamison mentioned anything to her aunt about dancing. Or vaudeville or Broadway or Mr. Ziegfeld.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Bessie said caustically. “If she had, she’d still be in Chicago. Dancing is one of the things Miss Hamer can’t abide. One of the many things.”

“I suppose that’s why Miss Jamison refuses to admit that she’s Lorelei LaMotte,” Verna said reflectively. She folded the playbill and put it back in her handbag, then gave Liz another look. “I guess there’s no point in even thinking about the talent show, then.”

“The talent show?” Bessie had to laugh at that. “You were planning to ask Nona Jean Jamison to put on an act for the Dahlias’ talent show?”

Verna shrugged and gave her a half-embarrassed grin. “Well, yes, I was. Not a very good idea, huh?”

“Sure it’s a good idea,” Bessie agreed. “That is, if she really is Lorelei LaMotte. And if she could clean up the act enough to be decent. And if she weren’t nursing her aunt. And if her aunt didn’t hate dancing so much.” She shook her head emphatically. “Miss Hamer finds out about the Naughty and Nice Sisters, and Nona Jean Jamison will be out on the street in the blink of an eye. She and Miss Lake both.”

Verna chuckled. “It’s a little hard to think of Lorelei LaMotte as a nurse.”

Bessie lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “Well, these days lots of people are doing things they never thought they’d do. And she’s not getting paid. Miss Jamison said on the phone that she’d do it just for the board and room, if her friend could come with her. That’s what got her the job, most likely. Miss Hamer would probably die before she paid out any real money.”

“On the phone?” Liz asked. “Was that when she called from Chicago? Myra May mentioned that there was a call.”