My sisters and I spotted Audrey sneaking a smoke behind the food trailer. It was breakfast time. But another foggy morning would delay our grub, and the ride. We decided to corner her in the meantime, to see what we could find out about her boss, Johnny.
“Mornin’,’’ I said, as the three of us approached off Audrey’s right flank.
She jumped, hiding the hand with the cigarette behind her back. “You scared the crap out of me! If Johnny sees me smoking, he’ll kill me. I told him I quit two weeks ago.’’ She smiled guiltily, took a last drag, and carefully extinguished the half-smoked butt on the trailer’s metal hitch. Then she straightened the remainder and slipped it into a pocket of her server’s apron.
“For later?’’ Marty asked.
Audrey nodded, mischief lighting her eyes.
“You really should quit, you know. Smoking is a filthy habit,’’ Maddie said.
I ground my elbow into my sister’s side. “Don’t we all have habits we wish we didn’t have?’’ I smiled at Audrey. “All of us except Maddie, that is.’’
Marty got to the point before Maddie could insult Audrey again. “We were wondering, how’s Johnny’s hand? That looked like a pretty bad burn. Were you there when he did it?’’
“Occupational hazard.’’ Audrey shrugged. “It’s not the first time he burned himself on something hot. Won’t be the last.’’
“So you saw him do it?’’ I asked.
“No, but I’ve seen it before. He cusses like a drunken cowboy and blames everyone in sight. I’m glad I wasn’t around this time to catch the flak.’’
“What’s the story with you two?’’ Maddie asked.
Audrey raised her eyebrows. Marty pinched Maddie’s other side.
“I think what Maddie means is that you seem to have such an easy, joking way with Johnny.’’ My smile was warm. “You two must have worked together for a long time.’’
Audrey beamed, her feelings for her boss shining in her eyes. “It’ll be twenty years this June. I just planned to work at the restaurant the summer after high school. But Johnny needed me, so I stayed on. And on, and on.’’
What was the best way to phrase my next question? I wished I’d rehearsed with Marty.
“So you started working for Johnny right around the time Barbara Bramble died.’’ I decided on the open-ended approach. “I know he was awfully close to her.’’
Pain flickered briefly across Audrey’s face. “It about killed Johnny when Barb died.’’
“So tragic, too. An accident like that,’’ Maddie said, finally climbing down off her high horse.
Audrey’s face hardened. “An accident, yes. That’s what everybody said.’’ She took the cigarette from her apron and re-lit it.
Please don’t say anything mean about smoking, I sent a silent plea to Maddie.
Marty jumped in, “You sound like you don’t believe what everybody says.’’
Audrey took a big drag and then lifted her face to exhale, aiming the smoke to the sky. Maddie coughed and waved her arm. I gave her a warning glance.
Audrey examined the glowing tip of her cigarette. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead.’’
“Lawton or Barbara?’’ I asked.
She was silent, staring at the ground.
“Audrey?’’ Marty prodded, a gentle hand on her wrist.
“Honey, neither one of them is around to protest,’’ Maddie whispered, “and you can talk to us in confidence. I’m a school principal. That’s almost like being a priest.’’
Giving a short nod, Audrey started to speak. “I guess it depends on what you think is a worse sin: committing suicide, or pushing someone to it.’’
I tried to mask my shock. So did Maddie. But Marty’s face was troubled.
“Johnny told me Lawton was just awful to Barb. He cheated. He cut her down. He may have even hit her a time or two. She was miserable in that marriage. She’d get drunk, call Johnny on the phone, and cry. Toward the end, Lawton had just about forgotten those two little kids.’’
Audrey tapped the cigarette ash, watching it fall. How hard things at home must have been for Trey and Belle.
“When Lawton went on that business trip to Tallahassee, he didn’t even bother hiding the fact he was taking his girlfriend. Just about shoved it in Barb’s face, Johnny said. That was when Barb had ‘the accident,’ as everyone calls it. But Johnny never believed it. Neither did her sister. Barb had told both of them many times how she hated her life, hated what she’d become. She told them she was going to end the misery for herself and everyone else.’’
She took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a cloud.
“That night, she finally did. She threw herself down those steps on purpose. And Lawton, may he burn in hell, pushed her to it.’’
Audrey dropped her cigarette and ground it into the dirt with her boot.
“Johnny’s hated Lawton ever since. And he’s hated himself, too. He’s always felt like he should have won Barb back. If he had, she’d still be alive.’’
“And Johnny would be happily married,’’ Maddie pointed out helpfully.
“Yes.’’ Audrey nodded. “I guess he would.’’
“What I can’t figure out,’’ I said, “is if Johnny disliked Lawton so much, why’d he go into business with him?’’
“I think Johnny loved his restaurant more than he hated Lawton. He was about to lose it. He needed to pay off his loan. And Lawton had more money than God. Johnny should have known better, of course. You lie down with dogs, you’re gonna get fleas. Financially, Lawton took advantage of him. Just like he had when he stole Barb.’’
My sisters and I were quiet, mulling over what Audrey said. We could hear voices from the food line, growing impatient. Somebody cracked a whip to pass the time. Audrey stooped to pick up her cigarette butt, and then froze at a bellow from the other side of the trailer.
“Audrey! Where you at, woman? These people are going to start eatin’ the plastic plates if we don’t get this food out soon.’’
Her smile was apologetic. “Looks like I’m being paged.’’
I thought of one last thing we needed to know: “Hey, thanks for lunch yesterday, Audrey. Those sausage sandwiches were great,’’ I said. “But I never saw Johnny. Did you put on the whole spread yourself?’’
“Hell, no. Johnny calls himself the Sausage Sultan. He’d never trust me to grill. He did disappear for a while, though. I remember, because that fellow with diabetes needed his artificial sugar to make sweet tea. We couldn’t find the packages, and we couldn’t find Johnny. Poor guy had to drink his iced tea unsweetened.’’
“Audrey!’’ Johnny yelled again. “I better not find you sucking on a cancer stick!’’
She took a breath mint from her apron and popped it in her mouth.
“I’m coming, you old crab!’’ she shouted. “Besides, the way these folks have been shovelin’ it in, it won’t hurt ’em a bit to wait.’’
The morning air smelled of coffee perking and bacon frying. Mules brayed, one answering the other, as the wagons gathered. Frank Sinatra crooned “The Best Is Yet to Come” as Sal’s Caddy rolled into view.
Mama sat in the back seat like the golden car was her personal chariot. Pillows propped up her ankle. Her lemon-hued cowgirl hat outshone the fogged-over sun.
“Mornin’ girls,’’ she called from the window. “Hope I’m not too late for pancakes.’’