Titanic, even one in bad shape, is worth a lot of money?”
“You found a menu in her beehive?”
“Heavens, no. But there were a couple of termites in there, which fell out, of course, and then escaped. Before I could have 88 Tamar
Myers
them exterminated, they got into my desk drawer and ate the Titanic menu. I bought it at a yard sale and was all set to take it in to the Antiques Roadshow when it came to Philadelphia.”
“I promise I don’t have any termites in my hair. Can’t you at least shave off a dollar or two?”
“No can do, but I can shave off that mustache of yours. That would be on the house.”
“I don’t have a mustache,” I yelled, “and I won’t for at least another a week.” I slammed down the receiver. The nerve of that woman. She was going to get a piece of my mind, even if it was the last remaining piece.
14
I nearly broke my neck climbing up the rotten wooden steps that lead to the sagging and rotten porch, so it is quite possible that I rang the buzzer a few more times than was necessary. Therefore, I was a mite surprised that when she opened the door, Thelma appeared as calm as a setting hen. That’s when I decided to ruffle her feathers—just a wee bit, and all in good Christian fun.
“My lawyers will be in touch with your people later on this afternoon. The injuries I have sustained from the bottom step alone should be worth a couple of mil.”
“You need to go around to the back. There’s a sign that says
’Business Entrance.’ ”
“I’ll do no such thing. I risked life and limb to get this far.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel your appointment.”
“I’ll double your fee.”
Even though Thelma wears glasses with a pale blue tint, her eyes appear a washed-out gray. Her brows are so sparse, she has to pencil them in, and it would be safe to bet the farm that she never has to worry about a mustache. But it is her crowning glory that makes her the envy of every woman in Bedford County.
90 Tamar
Myers
The all-natural golden tresses cascade in waves below her shoulders because, unlike myself, Thelma is a member of the more liberal First Mennonite Church. No braids or buns for her. It has been noted, by the gossipers among us, that Thelma tosses her locks repeatedly whenever she speaks to a man. Long swirling hair is supposed to be attractive to men, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. After all, hair is nothing more than long strands of dead protein called keratin. In theory, at least, one would be just as successful by waving a bouquet of donkey hooves at a man. In practice, however—trust me—ix-nay on the ooves-hay.
Thelma tossed her mane in vain before responding to my offer. “Okay, I’ll break my rule. We can chat without a procedure, but you have to pay up front.”
I fished the money out of my well-worn purse. “Here you are, dear. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s move this show inside and get nice and comfy. Some hot chocolate would be nice, and some ladyfingers. Oh, and I prefer the mini marshmallows to the large ones.”
“You’re not getting refreshments, Magdalena, and we’re not moving inside. We’re going to talk here.”
“Here where? There isn’t even a rickety porch swing upon which to plunk my patooty.”
“You just want to see the tower remnants, isn’t that right?”
“No—not just. Anyway, I’ve seen them before. What I want is to talk to you about Cornelius Weaver.”
The pale irises widened behind the tinted lenses. “What about Cornelius?”
“I understand you were—uh—seeing him.”
“You mean having an affair, don’t you?”
“Your words, dear, not mine.”
“Who told you?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose my source. Besides, this is a small town. One can’t change toilet paper brands without hearing about it at Sam Yoder’s Corner Market.”
HELL HATH NO CURRY
91
“You’ve stopped using corncobs?”
“I supply them only in the outhouse, and it’s
“You found a menu in her beehive?”
“Heavens, no. But there were a couple of termites in there, which fell out, of course, and then escaped. Before I could have 88 Tamar
Myers
them exterminated, they got into my desk drawer and ate the Titanic menu. I bought it at a yard sale and was all set to take it in to the Antiques Roadshow when it came to Philadelphia.”
“I promise I don’t have any termites in my hair. Can’t you at least shave off a dollar or two?”
“No can do, but I can shave off that mustache of yours. That would be on the house.”
“I don’t have a mustache,” I yelled, “and I won’t for at least another a week.” I slammed down the receiver. The nerve of that woman. She was going to get a piece of my mind, even if it was the last remaining piece.
14
I nearly broke my neck climbing up the rotten wooden steps that lead to the sagging and rotten porch, so it is quite possible that I rang the buzzer a few more times than was necessary. Therefore, I was a mite surprised that when she opened the door, Thelma appeared as calm as a setting hen. That’s when I decided to ruffle her feathers—just a wee bit, and all in good Christian fun.
“My lawyers will be in touch with your people later on this afternoon. The injuries I have sustained from the bottom step alone should be worth a couple of mil.”
“You need to go around to the back. There’s a sign that says
’Business Entrance.’ ”
“I’ll do no such thing. I risked life and limb to get this far.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel your appointment.”
“I’ll double your fee.”
Even though Thelma wears glasses with a pale blue tint, her eyes appear a washed-out gray. Her brows are so sparse, she has to pencil them in, and it would be safe to bet the farm that she never has to worry about a mustache. But it is her crowning glory that makes her the envy of every woman in Bedford County.
90 Tamar
Myers
The all-natural golden tresses cascade in waves below her shoulders because, unlike myself, Thelma is a member of the more liberal First Mennonite Church. No braids or buns for her. It has been noted, by the gossipers among us, that Thelma tosses her locks repeatedly whenever she speaks to a man. Long swirling hair is supposed to be attractive to men, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. After all, hair is nothing more than long strands of dead protein called keratin. In theory, at least, one would be just as successful by waving a bouquet of donkey hooves at a man. In practice, however—trust me—ix-nay on the ooves-hay.
Thelma tossed her mane in vain before responding to my offer. “Okay, I’ll break my rule. We can chat without a procedure, but you have to pay up front.”
I fished the money out of my well-worn purse. “Here you are, dear. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s move this show inside and get nice and comfy. Some hot chocolate would be nice, and some ladyfingers. Oh, and I prefer the mini marshmallows to the large ones.”
“You’re not getting refreshments, Magdalena, and we’re not moving inside. We’re going to talk here.”
“Here where? There isn’t even a rickety porch swing upon which to plunk my patooty.”
“You just want to see the tower remnants, isn’t that right?”
“No—not just. Anyway, I’ve seen them before. What I want is to talk to you about Cornelius Weaver.”
The pale irises widened behind the tinted lenses. “What about Cornelius?”
“I understand you were—uh—seeing him.”
“You mean having an affair, don’t you?”
“Your words, dear, not mine.”
“Who told you?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose my source. Besides, this is a small town. One can’t change toilet paper brands without hearing about it at Sam Yoder’s Corner Market.”
HELL HATH NO CURRY
91
“You’ve stopped using corncobs?”
“I supply them only in the outhouse, and it’s
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