The Darling Dahlias and the Eleven O'Clock Lady

“Mr. Dunlap thought it would be better to wait until we were sure,” Mrs. Lacy said shyly. “He’s telling his children this weekend.” She smiled, and Lizzy thought it was one of the first genuine smiles she had seen on her mother’s face in a very long time. “He really is a very dear man, Elizabeth, once you get to know him.”


“I’m sure he is,” Lizzy said. “I’m looking forward to getting better acquainted.” This was the honest truth, for the Mr. Dunlap she knew was a meek, mousy little man—a widower with two grown children—who would scarcely say boo to a goose. She couldn’t imagine how he had gotten up the nerve to kiss her mother, much less propose to her. But maybe things had happened the other way around: the proposal first, the kiss second. Or maybe her mother had cornered him, kissed him, and proposed. Lizzy had no difficulty imagining that.

“To tell the truth,” her mother said, “Mr. Dunlap is a tiger.” She smiled. “If you know what I mean.”

Lizzy blinked. “Not exactly.” She added hurriedly (to forestall an explanation), “Have you set a date for the wedding? And have you decided where you will live?” Mr. Dunlap, she knew, lived in a house behind the Five and Dime—a small house, no bigger than her own. She didn’t think there was room for her mother there.

“We’re having a church wedding next month. You’ll be my bridesmaid, won’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Lacy went on, “And we’ve decided to live in my house.” She made a face. “His house is a shoebox. Mine is larger, and so much nicer.”

Actually, it was Lizzy’s house now, but she was so happy about this new development that she didn’t remind her mother of their arrangement. “I would love to be your bridesmaid,” she said, with a heartfelt enthusiasm. “We’ll have to put our heads together about dresses. And flowers. And the reception. It’ll be fun, Mama!”

Mrs. Lacy’s eyes were misty. “Do you think it would be too gauche of me to wear white, with a veil? Your father and I eloped, and I so wanted a white wedding. But at my age, and having been married before and with a full-grown daughter . . .”

Lizzy got up, went around the table, and hugged her mother. “You can absolutely wear white if you want to, Mama. If anybody complains, I’ll—” She stopped, trying to think of something appropriate. “I’ll have Mr. Moseley send them an official cease-and-desist letter,” she finished triumphantly, and they both laughed.

“Well,” her mother said, and pushed her chair back, “enough of that. Mr. Dunlap is coming over for supper this evening—why don’t you join us?”

Lizzy frowned. She really wanted to meet Mr. Dunlap informally and let him know how glad she was that he was marrying her mother, but it wasn’t going to be this evening.

“I’d love to,” she lied, “but I promised Verna I’d have supper with her. Thanks, anyway.” After what her mother had said about the CCC camp, she wasn’t going to tell her that Captain Campbell was expected for supper, too. And that she was supposed to be sweet to him so he would do more good things for Darling.

Mrs. Lacy frowned and shook her head. “It’s all very well to have girlfriends, Elizabeth, but I do wish you would make an effort to find a nice young man.” She went to the door and stood with her hand on the knob, looking down her nose. “Ever since Grady Alexander had to get married . . .”

Mrs. Lacy let her voice trail away sadly. Lizzy knew that she had never been quite forgiven for allowing Grady Alexander to marry Sandra Mann—not that she could have done anything about it, of course. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, Lizzy reminded herself ruefully. If she had let Grady do what he wanted to do, he might not have done what he wanted to do with Sandra Mann—and gotten her pregnant. On balance, Lizzy was glad that she had held the line where sex was concerned, but she often wondered how Sandra felt. If she had it to do over, would she? Of course, Sandra had a baby and a husband, so she might think she’d gotten the best part of the bargain.