Runabout (6 page)

}Chuckling, Luther hugged her familiarly around her shoulders. They walked to the grill-back milk-blue porch swing, whose seat was covered with a folded quilt for padding. "That was before we were
courting,"
he told her. The width of the swing dictated a certain closeness of the couple. Luther laid one arm along the back so that they were not so closely crushed together.

}"But we're not—"

}"Shhh." Luther brought one long finger to Tulsa May's lips. With a familiar, boyish smile he leaned down next to her ear and whispered gently. "Our true plan must be so secret, even we forget about it."

}His breath was warm and husky in her ear, raising gooseflesh on the side of her neck and sending a strange, startling sizzle through Tulsa May's veins. She giggled nervously.

}"Not one word," he whispered. "Start thinking of me as your brand-new beau."

}He leaned back and looked over at her. His vivid blue eyes seemed even darker in the pale evening light. His voice seemed softer than Tulsa May remembered.

}"When you can begin to believe it, everyone else in town will too."

}If the beating of Tulsa May's heart was any measure, she was halfway to believing it already.

}

}If someone wanted to announce something to the entire community of Prattville, he had two options. He could speak with Erwin Willers about taking an advertisement in the
Prattville Populist,
or he could tell Fanny Penny.

}Mrs. Penny, wife of local businessman Titus Penny, was the current gossip champion of the county. In fact, the woman could probably hold her own in a national competition.

}Because his "courtship" was not something that could be easily explained in a newspaper ad, Luther headed down to the Penny Emporium on Main Street near mid-morning on Monday to leave a "discreet whisper" with the matronly town crier.

}The Pennys' businesses had prospered through the years. The Emporium, a grand building, was adjacent to the smaller store, which had once been known as Penny's Dry Goods. The original building was now simply Penny's Grocery and Market. The Emporium, filled with the exciting and up-to-date wares of a fashionable department store, was the fanciest edifice on Main Street: two stories of bright red brick with cheery yellow trim. It perfectly matched the red-brick sidewalk that ran throughout the town. The year 1907 was recessed in brick near the top of the building's impressive facade. A year quite important for the history of the town: it was the year that Oklahoma achieved statehood, the year that the town was named as a county seat, and most important to Fanny Penny, the year the city fathers voted unanimously to change the town's name from Dead Dog to Prattville. An alteration that society matron Amelia Pratt Puser was quoted as saying was a "giant step toward civilization and modern life."

}The entrance to the Penny Emporium was as grand as a church, with a wide double doorway with plate-glass windows on either side for display of an enticing array of practical as well as frivolous articles designed to lure even the most resolute passerby into the store.

}Like everyone else, Luther took a long look into the glass case that morning before stepping across the threshold. A small brass bell tinkled at the top of the doorway, announcing him.

}The store smelled of fancy soaps and new leather from the shoe department in the back. There was one long counter down the right side of the store. Behind it was a hive of pine drawers that extended from the polished wood floor to the high plastered ceiling. A tall ladder attached to a rail at the top could be moved from one end of the room to another to reach anything, anywhere.

}Luther stepped up to the counter and leaned against it casually. He didn't shop for fine goods often, since he put most of what he made back into his business or into local real estate. And his biggest project was to save enough at the Prattville State Bank to send Arthel to the A & M College to study engineering.

}From behind a curtain at the back of the store emerged a young blond woman who was so exquisitely beautiful her face would have put any of the Gibson girls to shame. Maybelle Penny was the belle of Prattville, the reputed beauty of the county and probably one of the loveliest young women in the state. Perfectly groomed and highly fashionable, at sixteen she already had the ability to set male hearts fluttering whether they were her own age or four times more.

}"Well, good morning, Mr. Briggs." She moved toward him in a walk that was carefully calculated to show her at her best. Her hands were clasped primly together at her small waistline, she held her chin high, revealing the perfection of her features, and her skirts swayed gently.

}"Miss Maybelle." Luther tipped his hat and then, as if thinking better of it, removed it completely. "Don't you look pretty this morning, ma'am. As, of course, you always do."

}Maybelle coyly tilted her head to the side and answered with softly feigned shyness, "Oh, Mr. Briggs, you will turn a girl's head."

}Luther was amused at the young girl's pretensions. He'd known her since she was a holy terror in pigtails. It was a bit difficult for him to now see her as a demure young lady.

}"We haven't seen you around the shop lately. You must be working rather long hours at the store these days."

}Maybelle lowered her eyes with feigned modesty. "I'm not sure that it's proper at all for me to just pop over for a visit as I have in the past. I mean, your home is a residence of gentlemen, with no chaperon."

}Luther raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, I know that Arthel misses you. He doesn't get into nearly as much trouble these days as he used to with you around."

}Her head snapped up, and this time there was an expression of consternation on her face. "Arthel was my
childhood
friend," she said coldly. "I am no longer a
child
to play games and run about town."

}Nodding gravely, Luther agreed. "You do still ride your bicycle."

}"Well, of course I do."

}Luther's serious expression slowly widened into a grin. "I'm glad to hear that. I was becoming worried that you had simply turned into another boring grown-up."

}Maybelle's brow furrowed. She was not nearly as bright as she was pretty and she wasn't quite sure whether a joke had been made of her or not.

}"Could I show you something this morning?" she asked, clearly unwilling to prolong a conversation that she wasn't certain showed her in a good light

}"I was needing some help, I'd hoped to speak to your mother." Luther glanced back toward the pale lavender curtain at the back of the store.

}"Mama had to help at the grocery this morning," she told him. "The first vegetables of the year will be coming in soon, and she and Daddy needed to do some spring cleaning."

}Luther nodded thoughtfully. Clearly, Maybelle did not have the ear of the community, nor was she as nosy as her mother, but he hoped that perhaps he could intrigue her enough to tell her mother. Setting off a chain reaction could be as effective as a direct hit.

}"I need to purchase some gloves." He leaned closer to whisper as if relaying a private confidence. "Ladies' gloves."

}A bright pink stain colored Maybelle's cheeks and she drew a shocked intake of breath. The purchase of ladies' gloves by a single man could only mean one thing, serious courting. A casual call or just walking out would mean candy or flowers. Gloves had a permanency that was considered quite close to The Question.

}Maybelle hadn't heard a word about Luther Briggs and any girl. Most of her friends assumed that the devastatingly handsome Mr. Briggs was still sowing his wild oats. Obviously things had changed.

}Woodenly, Maybelle stepped behind the counter to the ladder, which banged and rustled as she pulled it about midway along the wall. She climbed only two steps to reach high enough to grasp the drawer that contained the latest in feminine handwear. Pulling it out of the wall, she carefully laid the box on the counter in front of Luther.

}"Do you have a color preference, Mr. Briggs?" she asked in her most professional salesperson voice. "White is always a safe choice. It goes with anything, and it is proper for this time of year."

}"Hmmm." Luther was noncommittal as Maybelle laid out an assortment before him.

}"Black silk is very practical, of course," she said. "It doesn't show dirt and can be used for years to come." She laid three pairs of black gloves on the other side of the drawer.

}Luther still didn't seem impressed.

}"What I really had in mind," he said finally, glancing up to smile at her in a manner that could be interpreted as conspiratorial, "was something unique. Something that would be very special for my very special lady. Do you know what I mean?"

}Maybelle's rather dumb bug-eyed look indicated that she clearly didn't.

}"Something in her style or her colors."

}Maybelle's expression now softened until she was positively calf-eyed in admiration. "That is a wonderful thought, Mr. Briggs," she whispered. "How very ... very ... romantic."

}"Yes, I think so," he said, pressing his lips together tightly to control a grin.

}"What... what
is
the lady's style and what
are
her colors?" Maybelle asked.

}Luther didn't answer immediately. Instead he began looking through the box of gloves, examining and discarding one pair after another. With each assessment, Maybelle offered an eager sales pitch.

}"Those have a patented fingertip guaranteed not to wear out before the gloves," she said of one pair.

}"The high-cut wrist is very flattering to women with pleasingly plump arms," she said of another.

}"These," Luther said finally as he picked up a small pair of peach-colored silk taffeta. The gloves appeared almost plain at first glance. As he turned them over in his hands, he admired the tiny round brown buttons and the exquisitely delicate brown embroidery on the back and around the thumb. "These are perfect." He looked up at Maybelle and smiled broadly. "Her style and her colors."

}Maybelle gazed at the gloves in his hand, dumbstruck. Luther could almost see the wheels in her brain turning as she frantically searched for the identity of the woman for whom peach and brown were colors and delicate and plain were style. Her puzzled expression indicated that she hadn't a clue.

}"I'll pay cash," he told her with a self-satisfied sigh. "Could you wrap them up pretty for me?"

}"Of course," Maybelle answered, her voice vague.

}It took only a couple of minutes before the peach taffeta gloves were wrapped neatly in white tissue. Luther placed the packet into his inside pocket and with a warm smile he bade Miss Maybelle ; good day.

}The little bell rang once more as he left the building. Casually, without looking back, Luther crossed the street, hesitating only to wave at Ebner Wyse as he drove his wagon down toward the bank.

}In the anonymity of a saddle display in front of Osgold Panek's Leather Goods and Harness, Luther turned to glance back across the street.

}The bell at the Emporium tinkled once more as Maybelle stepped through it, pausing only to turn the Open sign to read Closed. He watched her hurry toward the doorway of the grocery and her gossipy mother. He smiled.

}FASHION IS AGELESS

}Spring Looks for Every Woman

}As was evidenced in local churches this Easter Sunday past, modern ladies' fashion is no longer the preserve of the wealthy or the young. Since her capital wedding this year to President Wilson, our First Lady, the former Mrs. Edith Gant, has demonstrated that even women of modest means and matronly years can dress smartly and fashionably. In a recent interview with
The Ladies' Home Journal,
the First Lady offered this advice. "Select your jewelry with respect to your toilette. It should emphasize the predominating note in your costume and accentuate the color of your hair or eyes." For most women this means only minor changes in