o’clock, just when we are supposed to open the place, she shows up out of nowhere.”
“Oh?”
“And boy howdy was she ever dirty!”
“You mean dusty?”
“Yeah. She looked like she’d just crawled out of a chimney.”
“Where had she been?”
“I dunno. Like I said, she didn’t say much. She just asked me to cover for her while she went and cleaned up. But I can tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“She seemed mighty excited about something. Kept humming to herself all day. Even when she was taking a group around.”
That was all Amanda was able, or willing, to divulge. Nonetheless I thanked her profusely, and then took advantage of the moment to ask her how she got her job.
The dark marble-sized eyes regarded me unabashedly. “Miss Lilah Green is my auntie. By marriage,” she added, perhaps sensing my incredulity.
Just as I said. In Rock Hill it isn’t necessarily who you are, but who you know.
The board began their fashionably late trickle at half past six. I’m not claiming that they coordinated their arrivals, but Shirley Hall was the first to arrive, and as a Yankee she was at the bottom of the totem pole. I breathed a loud sigh of relief. I hadn’t expected Miss Lilah to be the first to show up, but withmy luck you never know, and I was dreading her arrival.
“Hi,” she greeted me cheerily.
“Hey. Glad you could come,” I said, and stepped back so she could enter. Shirley Hall is not someone with whom to share doorway space.
But Shirley had her own agenda and stepped back as well. Her appraisal was quick and ended with a warm smile.
“I love your dress, Miss Timberlake. I have one identical to it.”
I sincerely hoped her dress was several sizes larger. “Thank you. Won’t you come in, Dr. Hall?”
“Shirley. Only students call me doctor, and half of them don’t anymore.”
I liked the woman. “In that case, you needn’t call me bachelor.”
She laughed. “Winthrop?”
“Yes. But way before your time.”
“Before I retired last year, I’d been at Winthrop twenty-five years.”
“I graduated thirty years ago,” I said, and could scarcely believe it myself.
We chatted amiably about this and that, but before I could get around to zeroing in on important issues, Mama came in bearing the first tray of hors d’oeuvres. Mama owns enormous sterling silver English trays, large enough for a roast pig, and this one was definitely a sight for hungry eyes. Mama got the round of applause she expected—and deserved—but before I could get back into my conversation with Shirley, the doorbell rang again.
Since Mama is vertically challenged, the peephole on her front door is much lower than most, and I was able to peer through it. I liked what I saw. Despite—or perhaps because of—his male appendage, Angus “Red” Barnes ranks just above a Yankee onthe Rock Hill totem pole. All his money, while useful to the foundation, cannot buy him the box seat in society that he desires. Backfield upper bleachers are all he’s ever going to get. One does not diddle Mattie Markham’s daughter and get away with it. Especially when one is married to a Sunday School teacher at the First Baptist Church.
I was surprised that Red had the nerve to show up at the docents’ party, but frankly I would have been more surprised if he hadn’t. Staying away would have given credence to any rumors I might be spreading. Of course I wouldn’t have spread any—telling Mama and Wynnell doesn’t count, nor does the Rob-Bobs—but Red, given his principles, would assume that I had.
It took me a minute to realize that he had the little woman in tow. His lawful bedmate, Marsha Barnes, was standing a full step behind him. Perhaps she didn’t like being seen with him, either.
I flung the door open and forced a big smile. “Hey y’all! Come on in.”
Red stared at me suspiciously. “Ms. Timberlake?” he asked, as if there might be another short, perky woman who looked like me at
“Oh?”
“And boy howdy was she ever dirty!”
“You mean dusty?”
“Yeah. She looked like she’d just crawled out of a chimney.”
“Where had she been?”
“I dunno. Like I said, she didn’t say much. She just asked me to cover for her while she went and cleaned up. But I can tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“She seemed mighty excited about something. Kept humming to herself all day. Even when she was taking a group around.”
That was all Amanda was able, or willing, to divulge. Nonetheless I thanked her profusely, and then took advantage of the moment to ask her how she got her job.
The dark marble-sized eyes regarded me unabashedly. “Miss Lilah Green is my auntie. By marriage,” she added, perhaps sensing my incredulity.
Just as I said. In Rock Hill it isn’t necessarily who you are, but who you know.
The board began their fashionably late trickle at half past six. I’m not claiming that they coordinated their arrivals, but Shirley Hall was the first to arrive, and as a Yankee she was at the bottom of the totem pole. I breathed a loud sigh of relief. I hadn’t expected Miss Lilah to be the first to show up, but withmy luck you never know, and I was dreading her arrival.
“Hi,” she greeted me cheerily.
“Hey. Glad you could come,” I said, and stepped back so she could enter. Shirley Hall is not someone with whom to share doorway space.
But Shirley had her own agenda and stepped back as well. Her appraisal was quick and ended with a warm smile.
“I love your dress, Miss Timberlake. I have one identical to it.”
I sincerely hoped her dress was several sizes larger. “Thank you. Won’t you come in, Dr. Hall?”
“Shirley. Only students call me doctor, and half of them don’t anymore.”
I liked the woman. “In that case, you needn’t call me bachelor.”
She laughed. “Winthrop?”
“Yes. But way before your time.”
“Before I retired last year, I’d been at Winthrop twenty-five years.”
“I graduated thirty years ago,” I said, and could scarcely believe it myself.
We chatted amiably about this and that, but before I could get around to zeroing in on important issues, Mama came in bearing the first tray of hors d’oeuvres. Mama owns enormous sterling silver English trays, large enough for a roast pig, and this one was definitely a sight for hungry eyes. Mama got the round of applause she expected—and deserved—but before I could get back into my conversation with Shirley, the doorbell rang again.
Since Mama is vertically challenged, the peephole on her front door is much lower than most, and I was able to peer through it. I liked what I saw. Despite—or perhaps because of—his male appendage, Angus “Red” Barnes ranks just above a Yankee onthe Rock Hill totem pole. All his money, while useful to the foundation, cannot buy him the box seat in society that he desires. Backfield upper bleachers are all he’s ever going to get. One does not diddle Mattie Markham’s daughter and get away with it. Especially when one is married to a Sunday School teacher at the First Baptist Church.
I was surprised that Red had the nerve to show up at the docents’ party, but frankly I would have been more surprised if he hadn’t. Staying away would have given credence to any rumors I might be spreading. Of course I wouldn’t have spread any—telling Mama and Wynnell doesn’t count, nor does the Rob-Bobs—but Red, given his principles, would assume that I had.
It took me a minute to realize that he had the little woman in tow. His lawful bedmate, Marsha Barnes, was standing a full step behind him. Perhaps she didn’t like being seen with him, either.
I flung the door open and forced a big smile. “Hey y’all! Come on in.”
Red stared at me suspiciously. “Ms. Timberlake?” he asked, as if there might be another short, perky woman who looked like me at
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