Stardust A Novel (17 page)

Catfish beamed, a wide, toothy smile. “We’s waiting for the mud to dry, and Stick and I’s talking about the best places to catch crawdads for your big doin’s.”

“It’s going to take a lot of crawfish. I thought I’d have to go over to Longview to the fish market.”

“Heck, no. We could catch ’em up fresh. Maw says we’re the best crawdad fishermen on the bayou.”

“Alrighty then. You know I don’t argue with your momma. So tell me, how does this outdoor cooking work?”

The boys started chattering at the same time, sweat shining on their bare chests, the smell of hard labor clinging to their thin, youthful frames. Catfish pointed to the center of the oven. “There in the middle, we’ll dig out the ground and put in a grate to hold the logs for burning.”

“And this part was my idea.” Stick pointed to a spot along the top. “See this gap? That’s for a rod for hanging the pots on.”

“You’ve thought of everything. Both of you deserve a treat. What say I scare up some brownies?” I winked at Catfish, whose hand went to his stomach.

“Yes, ma’am. That would be fine.”

I left the boys and cut through between the cottages. The drapes of Mary Frances’s cottage were drawn tight, the door shut, and no sign of Sebastian. I was tempted to knock but decided to surprise her with brownies and sweet tea, too, when I returned with a treat for Catfish and Stick.

My steps light, I hummed “The Tennessee Waltz” as I went to the office. A woman walking up the drive stopped me. She listed to one side, a purse dangling from one arm, a bottle clutched tight in the other. My gut twisted.

Mary Frances was rip-roaring drunk and coming my way, Sebastian following faithfully behind. She certainly hadn’t wasted any time.

I didn’t know whether to be mad at Mary Frances or heartbroken. Her sobriety had been short-lived, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow to know you’re the one responsible for the fall from grace of another human being. Mary Frances had begun to inch her way out of the black hole of grief. A ray of light had begun to shine in her eyes in the days since she’d come to us at the Stardust. A light I’d forgotten was there. She hadn’t always been the clinging, desperate woman who’d lost her way and stumbled upon the bottle.

I went to her. “Mary Frances.”

She shoved me aside, ducked her head, and staggered to her cottage, where she disappeared into a room as black as my heart.

Sebastian lay on the doormat outside her cottage when I took her supper. And even though I knocked and hollered, Mary Frances ignored me. I knew eventually I would have to go in whether she invited me or not and see how much damage she’d done to herself, but I gave her distance that night.

The next day she took the breakfast I offered by sticking her arm around the door, which she opened just wide enough for the plate to pass through. Doc said to make sure she had three square meals a day. I would hold up my end and see what transpired.

She stayed holed up four days. Time for the roofers Mr. Miller sent over to finish the shingles and for the electrician and a repairman to complete repairs on the Stardust sign, repaint it, and install new neon lights.

That evening when I knocked on Mary Frances’s door to deliver her supper, she breezed out, hair combed and a smile on her face. “Thanks, Georgia. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to join you and the girls tonight. And in case you were wondering, I’m going to be fine.”

Thrilled but leery, I linked my arm in hers and escorted her back to the quarters. After supper, she sat with Rosey and Avril on the divan, the three of them looking at dog pictures in
The Book of Knowledge
encyclopedia.

Avril pointed a stubby finger at the middle of the page. “That one looks like Sebastian.”

Rosey leaned in to the book. “No, this one. He has the same wavy tail.”

Mary Frances laughed. “I think you’re both right. Did I ever tell you about the dog your daddy had when he was a boy?”

I smiled to myself, hoping Mary Frances had indeed come to some sort of understanding with her inner demons. Time would tell, but for now, I was thankful. After drying the last of the dishes, I took a glass of iced tea and slipped out the back door. Rain clouds had moved in as they had the previous two evenings, bringing a mossy smell that tickled the back of my throat. Bullfrogs warmed their vocal cords, whether in anticipation of the rain or just a friendly hoedown in the bayou was anybody’s guess, but it was a comforting sound. Mary Frances had made a turnaround on her own. I was proud of her and glad she had good memories of O’Dell to share with the girls. They needed that, and I vowed once again to keep O’Dell’s shortcomings from them.

An uneasy feeling settled on me.

I set down my tea and leaned back on my elbows. As clouds shrouded the moon, passing black and angry over the luminous ball, I strained my ears, listening for—hoping for—the sound of a guitar melody to complete my contentment. I knew it was in vain.

Lightning skittered across the sky in the distance, the next flash closer, the storm approaching quickly. Another flash of lightning, followed by a crack of thunder, brought Sebastian scurrying to my side as he crouched, trying to hide under my legs. Rubbing his head, I told him it was all right, I knew what it was like to be abandoned.

“That’s me, my friend. The one everyone leaves. My parents. My husband.”
And now Peter.

Raindrops splattered on the steps around me, a knot growing in my throat. I bent over and ruffled the fur on Sebastian’s neck. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you inside.”

Sebastian turned and looked into the darkness, as if waiting for someone to appear. I shuddered. I’d spent a lifetime doing that, and yet looking back had never made a speck of difference. “Maybe things will turn out different for you, Sebastian. Peter wouldn’t have left without good reason. And he knew we’d feed you and give you a good home.”

He licked my hand, tail wagging, then followed me into the quarters where all was safe and dry.

[ CHAPTER 20 ]

T
he gravel parking space at the Stardust looked like a luxury car exhibition. Cadillacs, late-model Buicks, Sonny Bolander’s patrol car, and Hugh Salazar’s Chrysler Imperial. I’d invited Hugh to the crawfish boil on the spur of the moment. Partly to gloat over being able to carry off the job he thought I had no business doing, but also so he could see for himself I’d met the terms of Paddy Palmer’s will and fully intended to continue. Lord willing.

The only person who didn’t come that I’d invited was Aunt Cora. The girls and I stopped at her house after we’d been shopping for new dresses for the party, thanks to Sally’s generosity.

“We’d love for you to come. Ludi and her children and Peter have worked so hard. It will even meet with your approval, I think.”

“You haven’t needed or asked for my approval since you were ten years old.”

I shrugged. “I’m asking now. Please, won’t you come?”

Her gaze was wary, and I hoped it was a sign of surrender. “I’d love to, but I’ll be at a March of Dimes rally in Jefferson for the night. Since it’s in my district I need to be there.”

“So you’ll come another time?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I wondered if Aunt Cora had a specific reason for disliking the tourist court or if the Tickle blood coursing through her veins kept the family feud alive. No one even remembered what Uncle Paddy had done to merit being an outcast. I wanted her to come and see Rosey and Avril in their new matching dresses. The lavender gingham was perfect for Rosey with her fair complexion and fiery hair and equally cute with Avril’s dark hair and eyes. Even Mary Frances was bright-eyed and more engaging than I’d seen her in a long time. Sometimes, it’s the small miracles, you know, and the night of the crawfish boil, I was overcome with all the miracles that had brought us this far.

Not a breath of air stirred, but the evening was warm, expectant, and my skin tingled beneath my new aquamarine sheath. Thanks to Sally, I’d found a dress I loved on the sale rack, pleased even more when I took a size smaller, and I liked the way the satin cummerbund made my waist look slimmer. I wouldn’t say I had a swagger in my steps, but Sally was right—the new dress felt like a new beginning for me, too.

Silly of me, since the first person I ran into was Bobby Carl Applegate. “Hey, doll! It’s amazing what you’ve done with this place.”

“Hey, yourself.” I thumped him on the arm. “I had a lot of help out here. Guess you’re here to report for KHAW on the grand reopening of the Stardust.”

“No. I’m not there anymore. I thought you heard. I’m an agent now. Gonna run with the high rollers.” He had on a starched white shirt, a paisley cravat at the open neck. It was a transformation in both his usual bad taste in clothes and his demeanor. Only now, he seemed cockier than usual.

I offered my hand. “Congratulations. Guess we’ve both found our dreams. So which insurance company are you with?”

He stepped back, his upper lip raised into a sneer. “Not insurance. I’m a music agent. You gotta admit, I know what folks like, being on the radio the past six years. Figure I’ll have a whole string of clients before you know it. Got one fella already lined up for the Mayhaw Festival in July.”

“Sounds fascinating. Anyone I know?”

“Probably not. He’s an old-timer who used to be in vaudeville wanting to make a comeback. Rudy Vallee–type guy.”

“Sounds fun. Good luck to you.”

He sidled up to me. “Got me a sweet roadster right over there. Gotta build my image, ya know?”

He pointed to a sports car I hadn’t seen, a tiny two-seated convertible. “Want to have a look?”

“Not right now.”

“Aw, come on.” He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in the direction of his car.

“I need to check on the food.”

“Just one look. When you see it, you’ll be wanting to go for a spin.” His hand clamped tight around me.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop it. And by the way, if you’re not here with the radio, why did you come?”

He stepped in front of me, both hands on my shoulders now. “Because I wanted to see you. You’re beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about you now that… well… I thought you might give me a whirl since you’re available again.”

“Bobby Carl, I know we’ve been friends forever, but I’m not what you would call available. Not the way you want. With a business to run and two girls to raise, I’ve no intention of seeing you or anyone.”
And we’ll not be going out.
No use in pointing out the obvious.

“So the rumors aren’t true?”

My patience was running thin, but I took the bait. “What rumors?”

“I heard you got an employee of the male persuasion staying out here. A stranger who’s a bit of a cad, if what I’ve heard is true. I need to know my competition.”

A sigh passed my lips. “People believe what they want to.” Even though Peter had gone and wasn’t a cad at all, the rumors would fly until kingdom come, apparently. Bobby Carl, though, didn’t need the details. “It’s nice you care, but the man who’s the subject of all the wild rumors is an experienced roofer, a man who’s served our country, and from what I could tell, a gentleman.” Longing for Peter inched along my spine. I let my eyes drift past Bobby Carl. I blinked. A long-legged gentleman was headed our way.

My mouth went dry, my legs turning to jelly. A tiny squawk came from my throat. I’d know that straw hat anywhere.
Peter.

Bobby Carl turned to see what caused my reaction. “Someone you know?”

“Yes… the roofer I was telling you about.”
He’s back.
I put my hand to my chest so Bobby Carl couldn’t see my heart pounding.

I raised my chin, the corners of my mouth tilting into a cautious smile, although I wanted to wince because Bobby Carl had pulled me into the crook of his arm, so close I felt his hot breath on my neck. I elbowed him and stepped forward.

“Hey, Peter. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“This must be the night of the crawfish boil. Hope I’m not too late.”

“Right on time. Ludi and the kids are cooking up a storm back there. And I know for sure someone who’s going to be happy to see you.” On cue, Sebastian trotted up, feather tail waving, and I was certain a smile graced his drooling lips.

Peter released his canvas bag and dropped to one knee to let Sebastian lick his face, his arms. “Good dog.”

He stood, his eyes misty, and when he removed his straw hat, swiped a hand across one of them.

Bobby Carl sighed. “Guess there’s something here I’m missing. I thought you were living out here if you’re the fella I heard about.”

Peter nodded. “Don’t know what you heard, but I’m Peter Reese.” He offered his hand. “And you are?”

Bobby Carl offered a limp shake. “Bobby Carl Applegate, music agent. I see you’re carrying a guitar there. If I’d a known you were tonight’s entertainment, I could’ve given you some pointers on the proper dress for one of Georgia’s social gatherings. These are the cream of Mayhaw’s society.”

I shot Bobby Carl a warning look. “Cut the agent act, all right? Peter’s been away for a few days.” To Peter, I said, “You’ll have to get used to Bobby Carl. He’s starting a business promoting musicians.”