The Darling Dahlias and the Silver Dollar Bush

“Well, I can’t say anything about Liz Lacy one way or t’other,” Twyla Sue replied, with as much dignity as could be reasonably summoned by a lady with her head in a shampoo sink and her eyes shut against splashes. “All I know is that my sister-in-law Louise—she’s Archie’s brother Amos’ wife—rang me up last night to tell me that their middle girl, Sandra, is tying the knot with Grady Alexander. Sandra just turned twenty last week. Louise says she’d rather they wait. But you know young people in love. They’re in a hurry.”


Beulah did a quick calculation. Twyla Sue was on the party line that reached all the way out to the east end of Dauphin, on the south side of the street. Which meant that at least eight households already had the news, depending on who was home at the time and wasn’t too busy to get to the telephone. And if eight had the news and each one reached one (the way the revival preacher had told them they were supposed to do, to throw their sinful neighbors a lifeline to heaven), that made sixteen households. On the each-one-reach-one principle, it wouldn’t take more than a day for word to reach the farthest outposts of Cypress County.

Bettina wrapped a towel turban-style around Leona Ruth’s head and helped her out of the chair. “Amos Mann,” she said. “Don’t believe I know him.”

Leona Ruth bent over to pick up her black patent leather pocketbook from beside the shampoo chair. “When’s the weddin’?”

“This coming Saturday,” Twyla Sue said. She didn’t open her eyes. “Two o’clock. Amos and Louise live over east of Monroeville, which is why you don’t know them, Bettina.”

“Saturday.” Leona Ruth said in a meaningful tone. “So soon.”

Twyla Sue went on cheerfully, just as if she hadn’t understood exactly what Leona Ruth meant by that remark. “Louise says Grady is as impatient as a kid. He’s already got the rings—bought ’em yesterday at Cromwell’s Jewelry, and Louise and Sandra are drivin’ down to Mobile today to get Sandra’s wedding dress. Louise said Sandra has saved up twelve dollars from her job at the grain elevator. They ought to be able to get a real nice dress for that. Shoes, too. You can’t have a nice dress without shoes.” She opened her eyes to look up at Beulah. “Maybe you better put on a double helping of that setting lotion of yours, Beulah, so the curl will hold over until the weddin’. Although humid as it is,” she added with a resigned sigh, “it probably won’t.”

“I’ll do it,” Beulah agreed. “And I’ll send you home with a little bottle, so you won’t have to worry about it coming uncurled.” But at the mention of the rings and the wedding dress, her heart had sunk even further. Poor, poor Liz! When she heard, she would be devastated.

Bettina hooked a hand under Leona Ruth’s bony elbow and turned her toward the hair-cutting stations. “You just go over there and have a seat in my chair, Miz Adcock. I’ll be with you in a shake.” To Twyla Sue, she said, “Where did you say they are holding the weddin’?”

“I didn’t, but it’s at the Rocky Bottom Church of Christ. Preacher Jackson is doing the honors.” Twyla Sue folded her hands across her stomach. “Louise says it won’t be a big crowd. It’s just the families and closest friends.”

On her way to the cutting chair, Leona Ruth harrumphed. “Just the families,” she repeated knowingly. “And such a hurry.”

This time, Twyla Sue couldn’t ignore Leona Ruth’s remark. “Actually, it’s because money is so tight right now,” she replied defensively. “Louise said since it’s so far to drive, they didn’t feel they should invite folks to the wedding and not be able to invite them to the supper afterward. So it’s going to be small, and we’re all going to bring a dish for potluck.”

“Which we all completely understand,” Beulah said soothingly. “It’s hard these days. We’re doin’ a bit of belt tightening at our house, too.”