Part 7 (1/2)
We rose to leave the house. Outside, two handsome little boys were playing with toy trucks under a tree in the yard. Mama called to them. Curtis and Mack looked up, giggled, and waved, grinning from ear to ear.
”I'll set up an appointment with the county's psychologist,” Mama reminded Portia, whose eyes had filled with tears at the sight of the two happy, noisy boys. ”Don't you worry about them.”
”Candi,” Portia said, ”does this mean that I'll be able to keep the boys now?” She sounded anxious.
Mama smiled at her. ”It's what you want, isn't it?”
”They're good boys, lots of company for me. I love them as if they were my own, and you know I'd do anything for them.”
”I'll see what I can do,” Mama promised just before we got into the car and pulled away.
Our next stop: Cousin Agatha's house. Daddy's first cousin is a tall, lanky woman with the business mind of the family. The Covington family owns a lot of property; Agatha had it put in a land corporation. She administers the corporation business, sees that all the taxes are paid, and when possible, she gets the timber cut and has the funds distributed throughout the family.
Agatha never married, and as far as I know, never wanted to. She took care of her father, Chester Covington, until his death last year. Now she spends her free time working with the senior citizens at the Community Center.
”It seems like Agatha likes taking care of old people,” I said to Mama as we drove to Cypress Creek, where Agatha lived.
”She works with the senior citizens as fervently as she took care of Uncle Chester,” Mama answered. ”I guess taking care of the elderly is Agatha's calling.”
Things had changed quite a bit on the Covington homestead since my great-uncle Chester died last year. Agatha had had a lot of work done on the house. White aluminum siding decked its outside; there was a new tiled roof. Agatha had also had the house insulated, and the walls of each room had new, striking wallpaper. Central air-conditioning, something Uncle Chester wouldn't even consider, now cooled the rooms.
There was new furniture, too. New curtains and new carpet as well. Agatha had used her share of the money she had gotten from the cut timber wisely, as everybody in Otis knew she would.
”What have you got on the stove?” Mama asked Agatha the moment we stepped inside.
”Nothing half as good as what's cooking on your stove, Candi,” Agatha replied right away.
”Agatha, you're every bit as good a cook as I am,” Mama told her, laughing, ”and you know it.”
Agatha, who tends to be shy, grinned. ”What's your mama up to now, Simone?” she asked me.
I smiled back. ”She wants a favor,” I answered.
Agatha nodded. ”I suspected the like.”
Mama took a chair and said, ”Agatha, I've got something to tell you. Simone, Will, and Rodney want to have a party for me and James.”
”Good,” Agatha said. ”I like parties.”
”We don't want Mama to cook,” I said.
Agatha's eyes grew wide. ”For heaven sakes, why?”
” 'Cause it's their wedding anniversary. Mama shouldn't be cooking. She should be celebrating,” I told her.
”You want me to cook?” Agatha asked.
”You and Gertrude,” Mama answered.
”My cousin ain't a bad cook,” Agatha said about Gertrude, ”but she can't hold a candle to me.”
We all laughed.
”Of course I'll cook for your party, Candi,” Agatha agreed, smiling. ”Tell me what you want anda””
”Mama has a menu,” I told her.
”Good. When is this s.h.i.+ndig?”
”It's Sat.u.r.day, September fifteenth.”
Agatha straightened up. ”That's four weeks away.”
”Is there a conflict?” I asked.
Agatha shook her head. ”Ain't no such thing as a conflict when it comes to cooking for James and Candi's anniversary party.”
”Then it's settled,” Mama said, pleased. ”Now I want to change the subject.”
Agatha leaned forward, as if she could tell from Mama's tone that they were about to discuss something of extreme importance.
”Agatha, you've been around Otis all of your life,” Mama said. ”You know just about every family in Otis and its surrounding counties. Do you know a man named Charles Parker?”
Cousin Agatha thought. Then she shook her head. ”No, Candi, I don't recollect a single soul from these parts named Charles Parker.”
CHAPTER.
THIRTEEN.
”Let's go to Betty Jo's place before we go back to the house,” Mama said to me. ”I was thinking that the boys' cat, Sparkle, probably hasn't been fed in days.”
Mama told me that Betty Jo lived on the road between Avondale and Otis, which meant that I had to go back through Otis to get to Betty Jo's house.
The sky was calm and clear. I pulled into the Texaco station on the corner of Oak and First to pump some gas. Mama got out of the car and started toward the station's convenience store at the same time as Inez Moore walked out of it.
”Well, Miss Snoopy Snoop, are you still asking questions about Ruby Spikes?”
”How are you doing?” Mama asked Inez, ignoring her unfriendly greeting.
Inez eyed Mama suspiciously. ”You don't care how I'm doing. It's what I'm doing that you're so worried about.”
”I've heard of the trouble Ruby caused you at the plant, the reason you got fired.”
”Ruby Spikes was a meddling, sickly sweet, nasty-nice woman that made me sick. She did a lot of people a favor by shooting herself!”
”I can understand why you'd feel that way,” Mama said to her, again not responding to her hostility.