“Actually, DessaRae is kind of worried about her,” Bessie went on. “Says she keeps to her room and won’t come out, even for meals.” She looked back at Miss Jamison. “Is there something we can do to make her feel more at home? Or if she’s sick and needs a doctor, I’m sure Doc Roberts would be glad to-”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” cried Miss Jamison piteously. “This is none of your beeswax! Why is everybody in this one-horse burg so damned nosy?”
Beulah leaned forward and put her hand on Miss Jamison’s shoulder. “We don’t mean a thing on God’s little green earth by it, Miz Jamison, really we don’t. We’re just friendly, is all.”
Bettina, who had said nothing all this while, added, “This is the South, y’know, Miz Jamison. Down here, we may not have much to share, but we do care ’bout one another.” She grinned. “That’s partly ’cause we’re all related. Turns out I’m Beulah’s second cousin twice removed, and we didn’t even know it.”
That was the cue Bessie had been waiting for. “Which reminds me,” she said brightly. “I was thinking last night, Miss Jamison-I met your mother when she visited Miss Hamer, years ago. I was trying to remember her name, but my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. I’m sure I have it somewhere in my genealogical records, though. I’ve got family trees for every family in town.” This wasn’t exactly true (she was missing three or four), but she thought it might give Miss Jamison-if that’s who she really was-something to think about.
“My mother?” Miss Jamison said hesitantly, looking startled. “You met her?”
“Oh, I’m sure I did. What was her name?”
Miss Jamison frowned, pulling on her cigarette and blowing out a cloud of smoke. But if she was stalling for time, she was saved by the slam of the screen door. Leona Ruth Adcock burst in, her sweater flapping around her thin hips.
“Sorry I’m late,” she cried in her usual excitable tone. “Miz Jergins came over to tell me that her oldest daughter Jolina is goin’ to have a baby. She’s just thrilled to death. It’s early days yet, though, and she said not to tell anybody. But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me lettin’ you-all know about it.”
Bessie suppressed a smile. Mrs. Jergins would not have mentioned Jolina’s baby to Leona Ruth if she hadn’t wanted the whole town to know. Everybody in Darling knew that Leona Ruth was constitutionally unable to keep a secret.
Bettina looked up from her work on the back of Bessie’s head. “Jolina’s havin’ a baby!” she exclaimed. “Oh my goodness, that’s just so nice. They’ve been wantin’ one for the longest time. She told me that Doc Rogers said it was likely her husband who couldn’t.” She frowned a little “Guess Doc must’ve been wrong, huh? Either that or-”
“Bettina,” Beulah said briskly, “it’s time you got Bessie finished up. I’m sure she’s got better things to do this mornin’ than sit there waitin’ for you to finish combin’ her out.”
“Yes’m,” Bettina said, and busied herself with the comb.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen, Leona Ruth,” Beulah said. “Help yourself.”
“I just had half a pot, with Mrs. Jergins,” Leona Ruth replied, parking herself in a chair where she could see everybody. She straightened the skirt of her green plaid cotton dress. “I’ll sit down here and take a load off. Mornin’, Bessie.”
“Good morning, Leona Ruth,” Bessie said, and waited to see what would happen next. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Why, I don’t think I know you,” Leona Ruth said, craning her neck to get a better look at Miss Jamison, whose brown bob was by this time nearly finished. “Do I?”
Bessie thought Miss Jamison must be getting very tired of questions, but she managed a halfway civil tone. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She tapped her cigarette ash in the ashtray on the counter. “I’m Miss Hamer’s niece, over on Camellia Street.” She met Bessie’s eyes in the mirror, almost as if she were challenging.
“Well, ain’t that nice!” Leona Ruth said enthusiastically. “Miss Hamer is a dear soul.” She looked down her long, sharp nose and her tone turned mournful. “Although Miz Jergins-she lives a couple houses down from your aunt-said the pore ol’ thing had a terr’ble bad spell again last night. Said she hollered for the better part of an hour. Sounded like she was bein’ murdered.”
Miss Jamison started to reply, but Bessie beat her to it.
“It wasn’t anything like an hour,” she said, coming to Miss Jamison’s rescue. “Wasn’t more than ten minutes. The ladies and I were sitting out on the front porch and heard the whole thing, start to finish.” But she knew Leona Ruth. By the time she got through telling the story, Miss Hamer would be yelling bloody murder from noon to way past midnight.
Beulah took off Miss Jamison’s pink cape and brushed the back of her neck. “Well, Miz Jamison, what d’you think of your new look?” She handed her a mirror so she could see the back of her hair. “Turned you into a completely different person, don’t you think? Your friends up there in Chicago will never in the world recognize you.”
Bessie suddenly put two and two together. Why, the reason Miss Jamison had changed her hair color was staring her right in the face. The woman didn’t want to be recognized by somebody who knew her as a blonde! Maybe she was running away from her career as a dancer. Maybe she was trying to escape from a jealous lover, or-
“Doesn’t look like me at all, that’s for sure,” Miss Jamison said in a resigned tone, inspecting her image from all angles. She glanced up at Beulah. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Trivette. You did a swell job on short notice, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that…” She put the mirror down and got out of the chair. “It’s such a change, that’s all.”
Bettina looked up from her combing. “It’s the cat’s meow,” she said in an admiring tone. “Why, if somebody hadn’t seen you before you walked in that door this mornin’, they’d never in the world guess that you were platinum.”
Leona Ruth looked startled. “You were platinum?”
“She sure was,” Beulah said, sounding proud. “As silver and sassy as a new-minted dime. Never know it to look at her now, would you? A totally new woman.”
“Well, my word,” Leona Ruth said, in a wondering tone. “Platinum. Why, you must be the person that man was lookin’ for.”
“Man? What man?” Miss Jamison asked sharply.
“Oh, some fella,” Leona Ruth said, screwing up her face. “It was yesterday afternoon, maybe five o’clock. Right after it rained, anyway. I heard a knock at my front door. When I went to see who, it was some man I’d never seen before. All dressed up an’ dapper in a three-piece suit and tie and hat, an’ not one of those Monkey Ward suits, neither. Shoes shined so bright, they looked like they’d been polished with a cold buttered biscuit. Said he was a visitor in town, which I already knew, o’ course, since I’d never seen him before, and I could tell he was a Yankee from the way he talked. Said he was looking for a couple of friends of his. One was a platinum blonde, he said. Had to be you!”
Bessie looked at Miss Jamison. Her eyes were growing large and the color was draining out of her face.
“What did he… What did he look like?” she whispered.
“Look like?” Leona Ruth pulled her brows together. “Well, that’s easy. He was wearin’ one of those snappy brim hats, but he took it off when he was speakin’ to me, real polite, an’ he was bald. Bald and shiny as a billiard ball. Kind of man, you see him once, you cain’t never forget him.”
“No,” Miss Jamison moaned. “Oh, no.” She was so pale that Bessie was sure she was about to pitch face forward in a dead faint. Her knees began to wobble and she put out her hand in a helpless appeal.