fork clattered against the Spode.
A frown wrinkled the tissue-thin skin on Rosemary’s forehead. “Oh pooh, Willy, you fuss too much. It’s not good for the digestion. I read where people actually got ulcers from unpleasant meals.”
Wilhemina gasped. “My meals are never unpleasant!”
“I didn’t say your cooking was…I simply meant that sometimes you can be…”
Amelia interrupted, anxious that a sisterly squabble not break out now and slow down their evening ritual. She was on a tight enough schedule as it was. “Never mind, you two.”
The sisters glared at each other as Amelia jumped to her feet and began gathering the dirty china from the table. “I’ll do dishes. Why don’t you retire to the parlor and turn on the television. It’s nearly time for your favorite show.”
Rosemary’s rosebud mouth puckered with anticipation, wrinkling the faded blush of her complexion. She clapped her hands and patted her Gibson-girl hairdo back into a semblance of order. “Goody! I just love the ‘Wheel.’ Maybe someday I’ll go to California and be on the show. That Pat Sajak has the nicest smile. He reminds me of…”
Wilhemina frowned. “Don’t be absurd! That show is next to gambling and we don’t gamble. And…” She fixed her younger sister with a pointed stare. “California is a long way off. We’d have to fly…and we don’t fly.”
“Of course we don’t,” Rosemary muttered, as she exited the dining room. “Only birds fly. I swear, Willy. I think you’re getting senile. I read the other day where…”
Her sister’s jaw jutted dangerously. “I’m not senile…and you read too much.”
Amelia sighed. Casting another nervous glance at the clock, she began stacking dishes with a vengeance as the sisters disappeared into the living room.
A couple of hours later, she was fidgeting in her chair and trying not to watch the clock, wondering if they were ever going to go into their rooms. To her relief, Aunt Witty appeared at the head of the stairs wearing a bathrobe wrapped around her tall, spare frame like a faded blue pencil with wrinkles. A long gray braid hung over her shoulder and down across her flat chest, nearly lost in the garment’s loose folds.
“Amelia, aren’t you coming up?” she called down. “It’s nearly eight-thirty.”
The aunts were firm believers in the early to bed, early to rise philosophy and never veered from their routine. Amelia bit her lower lip. She hated lying, but she hated being afoot worse. She was going to buy that new car or know the reason why.
“No, Aunt Witty, not yet. I want to finish this book first. I’m at a really good part and don’t want to stop.”
Wilhemina frowned. She didn’t have to look to know that Amelia was probably reading another romance. They were her favorites.
“You’ve got to quit reading that trash. It will only confuse you. I recommend Little Women. It was always a favorite of mine and quite wholesome, you know.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll remember that.”
Aunt Witty’s door went shut just as Amelia looked up at the clock. She had less than thirty minutes to meet Raelene Stringer.
With a sigh, she marked her place and tucked the book down between the cushions, then dashed to the downstairs closet. She pulled out a small overnight bag and a pair of running shoes. Everything she needed for her job was inside. With one last glance up the darkened stairwell, she turned out the lights and quietly locked the front door behind her.
The streets were nearly empty. Amelia breathed a constant prayer that she would not have to explain her strange mode of dress and behavior, and headed for the corner two blocks over.
The dark gray sweatsuit she was wearing blended into the evening shadows as she jogged to her destination. It was Thursday night and nearly time for Amber Champion to clock in at The Old South outside of Savannah. To her everlasting appreciation, Raelene was waiting for her at the corner of Fifth Street and Delaney.
She giggled as Amelia slid into the passenger seat. “Ooowee, honey, I didn’t think you were coming,” then she turned on the headlights and put the car in gear. The engine rattled and knocked, a sure sign of something in need of repair.
Once Amelia had gotten the job at The Old South, her excitement had fizzled when she’d realized that getting to work was going to be a problem. Bus service between Tulip and Savannah was sporadic.
Raelene had taken one look at the tall, leggy woman coming out of the boss’s office and nearly swallowed her gum. The town librarian had been the last person she would have expected to walk into a place like The Old South.
The club was a hopping nightspot. Many of the men had a way of assuming that just because a woman worked at a place like this, that she was available for more than serving drinks. Of course, Raelene never minded their assumptions. She met some of her favorite men this way. But she recognized Amelia. And she’d never let on when Amelia had been introduced to her as Amber Champion. She simply cocked an eyebrow, shifted her chewing gum to the other side of her jaw, and offered Amber a ride. That a friendship of sorts had formed still surprised them both.
Amelia winced as the car belched smoke before smoothing out into its regular gait. Just what she needed. If Raelene’s car blew up on Tulip’s main street, it would be all over. She was supposed to be safely inside the house immersed in a book of romance.
To her relief, the car seemed to settle, and it was time for Amber to make her appearance. She pulled down the sun visor, adjusting the small mirror on the back, and then began sorting through her bag for makeup and trading eyeglasses for contact lenses.
Raelene eyed Amelia’s chestnut curls enviously. “Girl, I don’t know why you hide your pretty face behind those glasses. I tried to get my hair that color once and it came out as brassy as that bedstead in the display window at Murphy’s Furniture. And those eyes of yours! Lord have mercy, you oughta wear contact lenses all the time. Not everyone has eyes like yours. I don’t think I ever knew anyone who had blue-green eyes.”
“My daddy did,” Amelia said, pausing for a moment to let Raelene maneuver across the old bridge outside of town. It was difficult enough to put on makeup between bumps in the road. That planked bridge was impossible. “And I wear glasses because they are easier. Aunt Witty says they make me look professional.”
Raelene rolled her eyes. “Shoot, they just hide those pretty eyes and add about ten years to your age is all. If you have to wear them, you oughta get you some real stylish ones. I saw a picture…”
Amelia smiled and let Raelene talk. It didn’t matter what she said because Raelene didn’t expect an answer. Before she knew it, they had arrived.
Cars were already beginning to fill the parking lot. It would be a busy night. “We’re here,” Raelene said, as she turned off the highway.
Amelia began stuffing things back into her bag and gave her hair one last fluff. “We’d better hurry. Tony will have a fit if we’re late tonight.”
They jumped out of the car on the run.
“So, Tyler, what do you think? If you contract next year’s peanut crop to me, you’re bound to
