Thirteen
Leta Pearl
Where else but the high school football game could you run into the whole town so efficiently?
On Friday nights, I could find out who died, who got divorced, and who got pregnant.
Or even better, who got pregnant and divorced.
Football was even better than church, because on Sunday the only tittle-tattle I got was whatever the Baptists were privy to.
At a football game, however, everyone bowed to the same holy being at the same time, even those dimwitted Presbyterians.
Plus, I always used the opportunity to invite people in for free jewelry cleanings. Once they were in the store, I could almost always talk them into a new pendant or earrings. You’d be surprised how many people suddenly remembered birthdays and anniversaries at a jewelry counter.
That’s why I didn’t mind waiting in line at the concession stand; it gave me a chance to look around for someone I was sure needed a little extra sparkle. Plus, I could leave Dub and his friend Willie to gripe about the defense.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Rosalee Sizemore said (speaking of Presbyterians). “Leta Pearl, you look lovely as ever.”
“Rosalee! It’s been too long!” I let the girl who was in line between us go ahead of me and gave Rosalee a sideways hug. “How’s Bruce?”
“You know Bruce,” she said. “Won’t slow down for a minute.”
Bruce owned the Stop-N-Shop out on Highway 43 where folks brought in their crap for reselling to cheap people. Stop-N-Shop was a good name because every time I’d ever been there, I wanted to stop and go shop somewhere else. But I would never say that, of course—not out loud.
Then Rosalee said, “Goodness me, y’all are being quite generous this season, aren’t you?” She held up the Dub’s Diamonds advertisement in the program.
Dub’s Diamonds says:
Go Mighty Bruins!
Show your Bruins spirit with our one-of-a-kind Bruin Brooch
Orange citrine, blue sapphires, and smoky brown quartz
make your Friday nights sparkle with Bruins pride!
Show us your program for 50% OFF!
“Fifty?” I suddenly needed a mouthful of Rolaids. “It was supposed to be fifteen !”
Rosalee shrugged.
To make matters worse, ours was on the same opening spread as a Go Grady Go! mayoral campaign advertisement. “Good to see you, Rosalee, but I gotta handle this.”
Barbara and Jerry Don Beaumont print the football game programs as a tax write-off with Barbara managing the ad sales. That was how I knew this was not a mistake; it was a Booster Club conspiracy. I went right to Section D, Row 22 where the Beaumonts sat with Leon and Lucy Moody.
I scooted my way in next to Barbara and hollered, “Our offer was supposed to be fifteen percent off. One. Five.” I snatched her program out of her hand and pointed. “What am I supposed to do now?”
A slow grin spread across Barbara’s lips. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Leta Pearl. I was sure you said fifty when we spoke on the phone.”
“Why would we sell Bruin Brooches for half price in the middle of football season?”
“Leta Pearl, lower your voice,” Barbara said. “I figured you were taking drastic measures since I told you Zale’s was coming to town. But if I were you, I would pay attention to more pressing matters.”
“Like what?”
“Tainting the cheer squad was bad enough, but now your daughter has jinxed our quarterback too. We’re down by three touchdowns.”
I glanced at the scoreboard.
“Your daughter has ruined the entire season,” she went on. “Maybe even ruined June Bug’s life. But that wouldn’t be the first time she’s ruined the life of a quarterback, would it? If we don’t win this game, you’ll be lucky to give your little brooches away for free.”
Before I could say anything, Caroline Beaumont-Rickard walked up with a cold drink in her hand.
“Good evening, Miss Leta Pearl,” she said. “I just saw Trudy in the ladies’ room trying to get gum out of her hair.”
Good Lord, was there no end? Barbara had come out swinging, and it was only a matter of time before the whole town turned against Trudy again, and maybe even against Haskel too.
If Haskel lost the election, what then? One thing was clear: I was going to have to keep feeding Haskel those biscuits until we were married to a Moody.
Oh, why didn’t God give me boys? Then we could’ve all just sat around and discussed completion percentages and rushing yards. Life would’ve been so much easier.