really want to do this for her. I want her to have something special, and if it don’t work out, you can use one of these here. Please.”
Mr. Fulton thumped the palm of his hand against his forehead. “These are real nice dresses, hon. Maybe nicer than anything Mrs. Lane ever bought or made for herself. And she gets to wear this one for the ages.” He waved the hanger and the celadon-colored dress fluttered in the air. “Besides all that, you’ve got a new baby to care for. You don’t have the time to be making a dress. Or the money. Where are you going to get the fabric?”
Emmalee shifted the baby onto her shoulder and patted her bottom. “I got plenty of time for Miss Leona. Just tell me when you need it. And the fabric … I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. Maybe she’s got some scraps of something up at the trailer. She had extra sewing most every night. I can use anything I find up there, can’t I?”
“I guess so.” Mr. Fulton rested his forehead in his hand. He stood silent like that till Emmalee wondered if he had dozed off. “Okay, listen to me,” he finally said as he focused on Emmalee. “I’m going to need this dress at the very latest by Sunday morning. We’d like to get the visitation under way later that afternoon with burial onTuesday.” He hung the dress back in the closet. “That’ll only give you a little more than two full days. Can you manage that? Two days?”
“Yes, sir.” Emmalee’s smile grew wide.
Mr. Fulton stood quiet for a moment longer. He looked at both bodies and then back at Emmalee. “We don’t need anything fancy here.”
“Oh thank you, Mr. Fulton. Thank you.” Emmalee hugged his neck.
“Don’t get too excited. I got to see it first. But you go ahead and get started,” he said and straightened his robe. “Like I said, we don’t even need a zipper down the back. It’s actually easier if there’s not one. Nobody’s going to see it no how. Remember, people are only looking from the waist up. Something simple is usually best, and Leona Lane was definitely a woman of simple means.” Mr. Fulton walked back to the kitchen. Emmalee followed him. “Lord, I hope Mrs. Fulton don’t skin me for this. So keep it real tasteful, hon, or you and me both are going to be in trouble. Big trouble.”
“Yes, sir, tasteful.”
Mr. Fulton reached for the coffeepot but stopped and lowered his head, and Emmalee wondered if he might be falling asleep standing there in front of the counter.
“Mr. Fulton, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He waved his hand but kept his back to Emmalee. “Can’t believe what all has happened. Some sure to say this is God’s plan, but I don’t know about that.” He poured a fresh cup of coffee and turned toward Emmalee, a bright smile returning to his face. “Here, you might need this,” he said and reached for a key with arubber band looped through its head, hanging on a nail by the kitchen door. “This here is to the Lanes’s trailer. Don’t think they ever locked it, but take it with you just in case. See what you find. There may be a perfect dress already up there in her closet. If not, maybe I can sneak you a little money for fabric if you need it. But let’s keep that to ourselves.”
Mr. Fulton handed Emmalee the key. “Have you been there before? To Leona’s?”
She looked out the kitchen window toward Old Lick, knowing if Leona had not died during the night, she would be on her way to the trailer now. She would be sitting between Curtis and Leona. Leona would be holding the baby on her lap, cooing at Kelly Faye and gushing on about her bright eyes and fine hair. She’d only stop long enough to remind Curtis to slow his speed around those mountain curves so as not to make the baby sick. Then she’d talk more gibberish to Kelly Faye and tickle her cheek with the tip of her finger.
“You are absolutely sure you can handle this, hon?” Mr. Fulton asked.
Emmalee nodded.
“Okay then. When you get to
Mr. Fulton thumped the palm of his hand against his forehead. “These are real nice dresses, hon. Maybe nicer than anything Mrs. Lane ever bought or made for herself. And she gets to wear this one for the ages.” He waved the hanger and the celadon-colored dress fluttered in the air. “Besides all that, you’ve got a new baby to care for. You don’t have the time to be making a dress. Or the money. Where are you going to get the fabric?”
Emmalee shifted the baby onto her shoulder and patted her bottom. “I got plenty of time for Miss Leona. Just tell me when you need it. And the fabric … I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. Maybe she’s got some scraps of something up at the trailer. She had extra sewing most every night. I can use anything I find up there, can’t I?”
“I guess so.” Mr. Fulton rested his forehead in his hand. He stood silent like that till Emmalee wondered if he had dozed off. “Okay, listen to me,” he finally said as he focused on Emmalee. “I’m going to need this dress at the very latest by Sunday morning. We’d like to get the visitation under way later that afternoon with burial onTuesday.” He hung the dress back in the closet. “That’ll only give you a little more than two full days. Can you manage that? Two days?”
“Yes, sir.” Emmalee’s smile grew wide.
Mr. Fulton stood quiet for a moment longer. He looked at both bodies and then back at Emmalee. “We don’t need anything fancy here.”
“Oh thank you, Mr. Fulton. Thank you.” Emmalee hugged his neck.
“Don’t get too excited. I got to see it first. But you go ahead and get started,” he said and straightened his robe. “Like I said, we don’t even need a zipper down the back. It’s actually easier if there’s not one. Nobody’s going to see it no how. Remember, people are only looking from the waist up. Something simple is usually best, and Leona Lane was definitely a woman of simple means.” Mr. Fulton walked back to the kitchen. Emmalee followed him. “Lord, I hope Mrs. Fulton don’t skin me for this. So keep it real tasteful, hon, or you and me both are going to be in trouble. Big trouble.”
“Yes, sir, tasteful.”
Mr. Fulton reached for the coffeepot but stopped and lowered his head, and Emmalee wondered if he might be falling asleep standing there in front of the counter.
“Mr. Fulton, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He waved his hand but kept his back to Emmalee. “Can’t believe what all has happened. Some sure to say this is God’s plan, but I don’t know about that.” He poured a fresh cup of coffee and turned toward Emmalee, a bright smile returning to his face. “Here, you might need this,” he said and reached for a key with arubber band looped through its head, hanging on a nail by the kitchen door. “This here is to the Lanes’s trailer. Don’t think they ever locked it, but take it with you just in case. See what you find. There may be a perfect dress already up there in her closet. If not, maybe I can sneak you a little money for fabric if you need it. But let’s keep that to ourselves.”
Mr. Fulton handed Emmalee the key. “Have you been there before? To Leona’s?”
She looked out the kitchen window toward Old Lick, knowing if Leona had not died during the night, she would be on her way to the trailer now. She would be sitting between Curtis and Leona. Leona would be holding the baby on her lap, cooing at Kelly Faye and gushing on about her bright eyes and fine hair. She’d only stop long enough to remind Curtis to slow his speed around those mountain curves so as not to make the baby sick. Then she’d talk more gibberish to Kelly Faye and tickle her cheek with the tip of her finger.
“You are absolutely sure you can handle this, hon?” Mr. Fulton asked.
Emmalee nodded.
“Okay then. When you get to
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