The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

Ophelia reached under the counter for her notebook. “I finished my work on the Linotype,” she told Charlie. “I might as well go on over to the diner with Myra May and get this story now, before you start the layout for the local page.”


Charlie fished in his pocket. “You could bring me a piece of pie when you come back,” he said, handing a dime to Ophelia. “Chocolate, if they’ve got any left.” He added a nickel. “And coffee. Black.”

“Yes, boss,” Ophelia said wryly, and they all laughed.

By this time, Myra May was feeling much more optimistic about finding a replacement for Euphoria. While Ophelia interviewed Violet for the newspaper story, she phoned up Raylene Riggs in Monroeville, who said she’d be glad to get somebody to drive her over so she could demonstrate her cooking skills.

And after Ophelia had finished the interview and returned to the Dispatch office with Charlie’s pie and coffee, Myra May and Violet agreed that if Euphoria decided she wanted to come back and cook at the diner, they would tell her they were sorry and wish her good luck in her new cooking career at the Red Dog.

Unless, of course, she agreed to come back and cook for the Kilgores’ party, in which case they would be very glad to see her.





FOUR




Charlie Dickens Has a Story to Tell



Lizzy was about to follow Myra May and Ophelia as they went out the door. But she stopped when Charlie put out his hand and said, in a lower voice, “Hang on a shake, will you, Liz?” When the others had closed the door behind them, he turned back to her, his expression grave.

“I didn’t tell the full story just now. There’s more about this business with Lily Dare.”

“More what?” Lizzy asked. Her earlier apprehension about the upcoming festival—her worry that something was bound to go seriously wrong—was returning with a vengeance. Only this time, it had a sharper focus: the air show, and Miss Dare. “What is it, Charlie? What’s happened?”

Charlie reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes, and fished out a cigarette. “It’s not so much about what’s happened.” He opened a book of matches, snapped one with his thumbnail, and lit his Lucky. “It’s about what might happen. Take it from me, Liz. Lily Dare spells trouble. Serious trouble.” He motioned with his head. “Come around to my desk and let’s sit down for a minute.”

“Trouble?” Lizzy went around the end of the counter. “You’re talking about the airplane sabotage?”

“That, among other things. Lily has a way of . . . well, of making enemies. Plenty of them.” He sat down at his cluttered wooden desk and pushed a straight-back chair toward her with his foot.

“I guess I’m not surprised,” Lizzy said, sitting down. “You can’t become famous as the ‘fastest woman in the world’ without wounding a few egos. She’s got to be highly competitive, which likely doesn’t sit well with a lot of men. And judging from the photos I’ve seen, she’s beautiful. She’s glamorous. Most women probably envy her.” She sighed and made an honest confession. “I do—although I’m not sure I’d be very comfortable taking the risks she must take every single day.”

Charlie pulled on his cigarette. “You’re right about both, Liz. She’s competitive. And she’s certainly beautiful. It’s a potent combination. But she’s . . . well, she’s a schemer.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And pretty is as pretty does, as my mother used to say. By that definition, Lily certainly wouldn’t win any beauty contests.”

“A schemer?” Lizzy asked, puzzled. “You must know her, then.”

She studied Charlie. She liked him and respected his opinions, partly because (like Mr. Moseley) he had a wider view of the world than most Darlingians. He’d been to more places, Europe, even, and Baltimore and Cleveland. He had more experience. Still, she was surprised that he knew the Texas Star. It seemed almost too coincidental. But maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Maybe you had something to do with the fact that she decided to come to Darling,” she guessed.

“Nope. Roger Kilgore did that all on his own hook.” Charlie looked away, frowning. “I offered to put in a word with her, if that would help. But he said she had already agreed.”

“I see,” Lizzy said thoughtfully, wondering at Charlie’s evident discomfort. “Well, however it happened, everybody’s really excited about her coming.” She paused, then said again, “I suppose you know her.”

He caught her glance and held it for a moment, as if he were trying to decide how much to tell her. Then he answered, slowly, “I met her when I was working as a reporter at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. Her name wasn’t Lily Dare—not then. It was Henrietta Foote.”