Morning Glory (3 page)

"You are quite welcome," Briar said. "And if you
aren't happy at Crystal, come talk to Cecil at Rose Oil."

All five of them nodded and hauled their baggage
through the hotel's front door.

Briar got out of the car, stretched his six feet plus
lanky frame and looked up and down the street. Off to
his right, about three doors down, was a swinging sign
with POOL HALL on it. He passed a place with DRUG
STORE written on a sign in the window. Evidently,
there was only one person in town who made signs and
he had little imagination. Three people occupied the
bench outside the drug store. Two very pretty women and a man who looked like he might be their brother.
Briar tipped his hat toward them and kept walking.

He swung open the pool hall door, let his eyes adjust
to the stale darkness, listened to the chatter of a few
men shooting a game and made his way to the back. A
big, burly man with a cigar hanging out of the side of
his mouth stood behind a short makeshift bar of unfinished rough lumber laid across two barrels.

"What can I get you? You a gov'ment man?" the man
asked around the cigar. His tone was high and squeaky
and didn't go with the close-cropped hair or the width
of his shoulders.

Briar wasn't about to grin at the big man's feminine
voice but it took a concentrated effort to keep his face
passive. "No, don't reckon I am"

"Well then I got some really good hooch under the
counter or there's Coca Cola. Mix 'em up if you want.
Not bad served that way and if the feds or the preacher
either one comes in, it looks like you're drinking
Coke" He smiled at his own joke. "You new in town?
Comin' in to find a job on the oil wells?"

"I'll just have a cup of coffee," Briar said. "And yes,
I'm new in town. Working for Rose Oil. Lookin' for a
place to stay. Got any good boarding houses?"

"Couple. But the hotel still has rooms. Just built it a
few months ago. Ain't even had time to get its fair share
of roaches and rats." The man set a cup of tarry substance on the bar.

"Might have to stay there, but I'd rather have a boarding house" Briar sipped the coffee. Actually it
wasn't bad. A little strong, but then that was the only
way to drink it. If it didn't curl your toenails, it was
only murdered water.

"Then you need to walk about four blocks on up the
street to the Morning Glory Inn. Miss Clara runs it and
I heard one of her boarders got married last week so
she's got a room," the man said. He'd teach Clara to
spurn his offer to take her for a Sunday afternoon ride
in his buggy. Yes, he would. He'd spoil her evening by
sending oil riffraff up to her door. She'd singe the eyebrows off that tall fellow for sure with her sharp tongue.
By the time she got through dressing him down for
ruining the whole landscape around Healdton with
those terrible oil wells, then went on to tell him that
taking oil from the ground was a sin punishable by a
slow and torturous death, the stranger would be glad to
stay in the hotel. He might even be willing to give a
dollar a night to sleep under one of the pool tables.

"Thank you for the information" Briar finished the
coffee in a single gulp and headed out across the wooden floor that hadn't seen a mop since the day the pool
hall was built. He made it to the door when he heard the
store owner demanding that two other men take their
arguments outside and what he'd do to them if they
broke one of his cue sticks. Then a solid wall hit Briar
in the back and forced him through the screen door,
sprawling him out on the sidewalk flat on his stomach.

Before he could draw breath into his lungs, the dis agreeing men stumbled out over him like he was no
more than a doormat. Yelling profanities. Pushing.
Finally doubling up their fists and pounding at each
other. Rolling around in the dusty street like they
enjoyed it. He raised his head in time to see one of the
ladies who'd been on the bench. She wasn't two feet
from him and the look on her face showed pure disgust.

She stuck her nose in the air as if he were a pile of
horse manure freshly dropped on the plank sidewalk
and sidestepped him, careful to draw her skirt tail tight
around her legs. "Oil field trash!"

"Snooty women!" he mumbled as he righted himself, climbed into his car and drove down the street,
completely ignoring the fight behind him.

Morning Glory Inn was a sprawling two-storey
house with a front porch that wrapped around both
sides. Rocking chairs invited him to take his pick. A big
white one with a slat back. A brown one with wide
arms. A blue one with a soft cushion in the bottom.
Morning Glory vines climbed up the posts and railing.
The scorching hot sun had already taken its toll on the
blue blossoms, but Briar knew what it looked like in the
early morning when the whole front of the house would
be alive with blue blooms as big as saucers. His mother's front porch in Kentucky had looked the same when
he was a child.

He didn't know whether to walk right in like he was
going into a hotel or to knock as if he were visiting a
friend. Deciding on the latter, he rapped on the door frame and brushed the dust from his overalls and chambray shirt sleeves.

An enormous woman filled the open space behind
the screen door. "Yes, sir? You here to ask about the
room for rent?" She eyed him up and down.

"Yes, ma'am, I surely am," he said.

"You a preacher man? I don't hold none with no
preacher man. I wouldn't rent you a place to sleep in
the outhouse if you was a preacher man, and if you tell
Dulcie a lie and say you aren't, then you don't want to
think about the trouble you'd be in for." She crossed her
arms over her ample chest and stared at him.

"I am not a preacher. Never have been" Briar
smiled.

"Well, then I suppose the room is settin' empty and
Miss Clara can't pay the bills lettin' rooms go beggin',
so you just come on in here and sign your name sayin'
as how you are willin' to obey the rules of the house.
That'd be mostly bein' in your room by ten o'clock.
Miss Clara, now, she don't cotton to folks layin' out
half the night sinnin' like them oil riffraff do" Dulcie
opened the door and led him to a credenza where a
simple one-page contract lay beside a vase of freshly
picked pink roses.

He noted the price, pulled enough to cover two
months' rent plus extra for supper from his wallet and
paid Dulcie. "What about laundry?"

"That's your problem, mister. Miss Clara don't be
doin' washin' and ironin' for nobody, and I sure don't neither. There's a man who set up a laundry in town
when the oil wells started booming. That stuff they'd
be stealing from the Lord's earth is a mite hard to get
out of a feller's britches, so he's charging high dollar. I
expect he'd take in washin' from anybody though."

"Okay." Briar nodded. "Which room is mine?"

"That'd be the first one on the left at the top of the
stairs. Got five boarders. Mostly they're in their rooms
before dark, so I wouldn't be comin' in here too late.
You need to sign your name to the bottom of that paper.
Miss Clara, she puts great stock in keepin' things legal
and all. You better read it before you sign, because it
says if you move out you don't get a dime of your
money back," Dulcie said.

"Yes, ma'am." He stifled a smile. The house was
spotless. Wonderful aromas were coming from the
kitchen. The room would be twice as nice as the one in
the hotel, he was sure. He signed "Briar Nelson" with
flair and picked up his suitcase. "Supper is ready at
six?"

"Supper is ready at five and don't you be late or
you'll be going hungry" Dulcie wagged a finger at him.

"What happens if I want it in my room?"

"This is a boarding house, not some kind of rich
man's mansion. And I can tell by lookin', you sure
enough ain't no rich man, so don't even ask tom foolery questions like that. Bathroom is at the end of the
hall. I'll let the other boarders know there's a man in
the house now so they won't be embarrassin' them selves or you neither. They're all womenfolk," Dulcie
told him.

He carried his baggage up the stairs and found his
room. "Pretty-just like I knew it would be. Libby
would like this."

Frilly lace curtains fanned into the room from the
summer breeze flowing through the open window. An
intricately patterned patchwork quilt covered the bed.
The hardwood floor was so shiny he could see the
reflection of his shoes. If there was a speck of dust anywhere, he would have been willing to lick it up. The
walls were covered with yellow rose wallpaper, reminding him of what had been in his mother's bedroom back
in Kentucky.

Twenty minutes later, he had all his things unpacked
into a chest of drawers and the wardrobe. Yes, sir, Briar
Nelson could be very comfortable here even if he did
miss Libby. As he stretched out on the bed for a short
nap he wondered if Miss Clara was Dulcie's daughter
and if so, was she as big as Dulcie?

"Rented that room for you. Paper is on the table over
there," Dulcie told Clara when she arrived. "Nice man.
Not a preacher. I made sure of that"

"Not oil well trash?"

"I sniffed real hard but couldn't get a whiff of it, and
I got a nose for that smell. No matter how much they try,
they never can get all the stink off them. Had on brandnew overalls and a shirt that was only just a bit dusty. Drives his own car and all. It's parked out there in front
of the house. Looks to be fairly new. I figure he's some
kind of salesman. Suitcase didn't look too beat up, and
he had a wad of money in his wallet. Didn't think I saw
it when he drug it out to pay, but not much misses
Dulcie's eyes. No sir. Now you just sit yourself down
and play a little tune on the piano while I finish supper.
You're late today. Did you go inside the drug store for a
cold drink?" Dulcie steered her toward the parlor.

"Yes, Tilly and Tucker were both in town. Tilly and
I had lemonade. There was a fight in the pool hall. Men
out in the street slugging away at each other. One was
knocked down and sprawling on the sidewalk. I had to
step around him. That's oil field riffraff for you. Then I
remembered I needed some hairpins, so I stopped in the
general store and the time got away from me" Clara sat
down at the piano and began to play.

"That's so pretty. I'm glad your momma made you
learn. Now I'll get back to that frying chicken."

"What would I do without you, Dulcie? I couldn't
boil water without setting the house afire"

"And if I tried to play the piano, honey, it'd bring
every hound dog in six counties to howl at the back
door. Some of us are good at some things. Some of us
are good at others."

Clara's long slender fingers danced over the ivory
keys like children playing in the meadow. The village
idiot did have one talent.

The aroma of onions sizzling in hot grease along
with the sweet sounds of piano music drifted up the
stairs and into Briar's room. He awoke slowly, taking in
his surroundings and remembering where he was.
Morning Glory Inn, not in his bed at home in Kentucky
when he was a boy and his mother often fried onions
with potatoes for their supper. Not even in his current
home in Pennsylvania where it wasn't unusual to hear
early morning music. This melody sounded nothing like
the whining fiddle of the hill country, but still he was
reminded of home. Both the one he'd left before he was
sixteen and the one where he hung his hat these days.

He checked his watch. Ten minutes until 5:00. He
rolled out of bed, found his boots and eased the door
open. No one was in the hallway and from the sounds echoing from the living room, the boarders had all
gathered before dinner. Dulcie's voice drowned out the
others declaring she was putting supper on the table
and they had five minutes to take their seats. Briar
stomped his feet down into work boots, hurriedly found
the bathroom, washed his hands and face, and used a
little water to tame a cowlick that had given him grief
all his life. If he had wakened earlier he might have
shaved, so dark was the shadow on his angular face, but
it was too late now. Miss Clara Whateverhernamewas
would have to be content that he would at least be
bringing clean hands to the table.

Dulcie fussed at him from the bottom of the stairs.
"Come on, man, I'm not waiting supper on you. Just
this once, in case you didn't have a watch, I was going
to drag myself up the steps for you, but it would be the
last time."

"Yes, ma'am," Briar drawled in a lazy Southern
brogue that more than a decade of living in
Pennsylvania and two long visits to New York City
hadn't gotten out of him.

"I found our newcomer," Dulcie announced. "He's
going to be a good boarder and make it on time after
all. Ladies, this is Briar Nelson. Mr. Nelson, this is
Nellie Smith and beside her is Cornelia Oberman. They
both teach school here in Healdton"

"Dulcie?" a lady from the end of the table said.