Chapter 1 #2
The queen-sized bed frame is creaky, but the mattress feels like sleeping on a cloud.
A tall-boy dresser allows for all my folded clothes, and the closet is full of empty hangers for the rest. It doesn’t take me long to put everything away, including my melted makeup on the vanity table.
I haven’t seen a vanity table since I was last out here.
The pale yellow desk skirt matches the yellow flowers on the drapes on each side of the wide window overlooking the backyard.
The heat and the long drive takes a toll on my energy not even three cookies’ worth of sugar can combat. I end up napping on top of the old quilt for longer than I planned. The doorbell ringing downstairs wakes me up a while later.
“Yoohoo!” calls an older woman.
I hear Nana making her way to the door. These old walls aren’t exactly thick.
She lets her friend in and those two instantly start chatting away.
I check that my eyeliner hasn’t smeared and try to fluff up my hair.
All that sweating made it curl a bit and frizz on top.
I’ll have to figure out a way to style my hair with all this humidity. Maybe I need new products.
Clunking down the wooden stairs in my Doc Martens, I see that both women are out sitting on the front porch, oblivious to the heat. I join them, wincing at the warm blast to the face the second I step outside.
“Well, there she is!” Nana exclaims, getting to her feet and wrapping her arm around my waist. “Birdie, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Betsy Mae. Betsy, this is Birdine Buckley.”
I reach out a hand to Ms. Buckley. Her bright multicolored blouse is only overshadowed by the neon green linen pants she’s wearing. I didn’t know linen came in lime green. I do know enough about the South, however, to know I shouldn’t use her first name unless she offers.
“Hello, Ms. Buckley. Nice to meet you. Nana has such lovely things to say about you.”
Ms. Buckley sets down her sweating glass of iced tea and shakes my hand. Every single one of her fingers has a big bauble ring on it. “Hello, dear. You must call me Birdie. All the folks do.”
“Oh!” Nana lets go of me to grab a glass of tea off the table between their two chairs. “Sweet tea is just what you need after your long drive.”
I release Birdie’s hand to take the offered tea.
It’s already sweating down my arm in this heat.
I drag a chair closer to the two ladies and have a seat.
Nana and Birdie dive right back into the gossip.
Something about Deuce having to chase a goose out of the shop but the poor bird smacked right into Mrs. Willowby’s cane.
She would have taken a terrible tumble, but Mr. Barrett broke her fall, completely by accident.
He had quite a few choice words to say about it afterward, the ol’ grump.
While I listen and try to learn who people are in this town, I take my first sip of sweet tea.
My whole body instantly puckers in on itself.
One eyelid twitches shut involuntarily. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, this tea is sweet!
Nana shoots me a wink mid-conversation, like she knows I’m wondering how they all don’t have diabetes by now.
Birdie takes advantage of the gap in conversation to put her bony hand on my knee.
“I have a surprise for you, darlin’.”
I unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth and promise my pancreas I’ll slow down on the sugar at dinner. I hope Birdie hasn’t baked me a plate of cookies. “That’s so nice of you.”
Birdie lifts her leopard-print oversized glasses to the top of her head and pins me with a look I can’t quite decipher. “Your nana has told me all about you moving out here, so I took it upon myself to get you gainfully employed. Just one less thing for you to worry about. You start tomorrow.”
I choke and have to cough to cover it. “Oh, my. Wow.”
I mean, I’d hoped to spend some time with Nana and slowly get the lay of the land before hitting the pavement to find a job, but I guess plans can change.
Nana takes pity on me. “You’re so kind, Birdie. I know my Betsy Mae will be so happy anywhere here in Heaven.”
Birdie leans forward. “Harp and Hemline won’t know what hit ’em.”
They aren’t the only ones who won’t know what’s hit them. I don’t even know what Harp and Hemline is.
I open my mouth to ask, but the timer in the kitchen goes off and both women get to their feet, conversation on the porch over with. We head inside to eat and Birdie talks so much I don’t get to say much at all other than the occasional oh and uh-huh.
After we’re done eating, I clear the table and do the dishes, leaving Nana to talk with her friend. I’m just getting the kitchen spotless when Nana comes in and gives me a hug from behind.
“You’re such a dear. I’m fixin’ to head to bed. You better too, young lady, seeing as you’ve got work tomorrow. I’ll be up to make you a hearty breakfast.”
I spin in her arms and give her a proper hug. “You don’t have to do that. I can eat some fruit or something.”
Nana rears back. “Oh no, darlin’, that just won’t do. You need your strength.”
I frown, suddenly worried Birdie got me a construction job. I’m not sure I’m cut out for an outside job in this kind of heat. “What’s Harp and Hemline, by the way?”
Nana’s face transforms into a grin. “One of four boutiques here in Heaven. Getting a job at any one of them is considered a coveted position. Never thought I’d see a granddaughter of mine working in a boutique.
” She lets me go and squeaks as she claps her hands, absolutely delighted at the prospect.
Me? I’m horrified.
I look down at my all-black outfit of jeans and tank top, Doc Martens, and minimal jewelry. Not exactly what I’d consider boutique material. I dress more for comfort and blending into the wall.
Nana heads to bed, oblivious to my rising panic, and I hop in my car, cruising around the neighborhood to clear my head and calm my nerves.
Things kind of imploded back in California.
I have nowhere else to live and no other job prospects.
Student loans for both of my useless degrees are coming due and my pockets are officially empty.
Living with Nana and inheriting her house is my only long-term plan.
Having immediate employment is actually a wonderful thing.
Welp, I guess I’m going to work in a boutique in the South.
Can’t be that hard, right? As I cruise through the four-way stop and into the downtown square, I see a boutique, lights out, doors locked.
It’s the mannequin in the window that has me stopping right there in the middle of the road and gaping.
That Pepto Bismol–pink dress has more ruffles and pearls than I’ve ever seen on one outfit. Hell, in one room.
Heavens to fuckin’ Betsy, what have I gotten myself into?