"She don't know what she's doing. Get this room finished. I need to get ready to go to work at the Canary. Go on before I put your grandfather on you." she threatened.
Alanis took back the vacuum cleaner.
"You better go see your great-aunt or something. I don't need my mother on my back." she said. "I'll come look for you after dinner and we'll go down into the basement and talk and you can tell me all about that puberty thing and your brother and all. Your great-aunt will probably fall asleep watching television. Most nights she don't even go up to bed."
"How do you know?"
"I know." She smiled, "Chad's not the first boy I brought to the basement. It's like having my own apartment. Boys are impressed with stuff like that."
She turned on the vacuum cleaner. I watched her a moment, then walked out and up the stairs. When I looked in on Great- aunt Frances. I saw she had put on one of the old dresses. It was too tight around her bosom. She couldn't button it all the way up in the back, but she twirled about in front of her full- length mirror, smiling as if she saw a completely different woman wearing a dress that fit perfectly.
"Why, Miss Melody Ann," she cried when she saw me in the mirror. She spun around. "Shouldn't you be preparing for the gala dinner? You need to start on your clothes and your hair."
Who's Miss Melody Ann? I wondered. I actually turned to look behind me.
She laughed and twirled and then she flopped on the bed, the wide, long skirt falling around her. For a moment she just stared at me. Then she shook her head and dropped her arms to her sides as if her arms had turned into lead pipes. The smile flew off her face like a bird frightened off a branch.
"You look too much like my sister when you scowl like that. Jordan. Don't you want to have fun, be happy?"
I nodded.
"So, smile, don't scowl," she said. She looked like she was about to start crying. "Emma would never pretend when we were children. She never appreciated her toys like I did. None of her dolls meant anything to her. You know what I told her once? I told her one day you were ten and the next day you were twenty. I bet she's sorry now. I bet she wishes she could be ten again and wait until she was twenty." She pulled her shoulders up, folded her arms under her breasts and narrowed her eyelids. "Okay, who do you want to be more like. Emma or me?" she asked.
The question terrified me. She sat there, waiting, not moving her gaze off my face.
If I said Grandmother Emma, which was what I imagined Ian would want me to say. Great-aunt Frances would be sad, upset, maybe even angry at me. On the other hand. I didn't want to be like she was.
"I don't want to be anybody else," I said, and she clapped her hands and smiled.
"What a bright reply. Oh. I'm so happy you didn't say Emma. That means you can be either one of us anytime you want to be. Tonight, you can be like me," she said, rising.
She went to the pile of clothes on the floor and pulled apart dresses and skirts and blouses until she settled on a dress she wanted me to wear. It was blue and white with pink swirls through the white. It had frilly sleeves and a frilly collar. When she held it up. I thought it looked more like a costume than a dress.
"Go try this on. It will be too big and too long. but I'll fix it for you. Come back as soon as you get into it," she said. handing me the dress.
She returned to her mirror and began to undo her pigtails. "I have to do my hair in the meantime. Go on." she said. waving, at the door.
I looked down at the dress. I couldn't imagine wearing, it, but I went to my room and took off what I was wearing to put it on. I was swimming in it. The bodice fell forward, the sleeves were too long and the skirt dragged on the floor. It was like wearing a sheet. I lifted the skirt so I could walk and returned to her bedroom.
She turned away from the mirror and
immediately smiled.
"Oh, it's nearly perfect!" she cried. "Come on in and let me make some small adjustments for you."
Nearly perfect? Small adjustments?
I stepped in farther, and she went to her vanity table, opened a drawer, and came up with handfuls of safety pins.
"C'mon, c'monon. Don't be shy. I mean, don't be too shy. A young lady of quality should be shy. Bold women get reputations very quickly, you know."
I realized she was speaking in a Southern accent. It didn't sound phony either. She was good at it, and it made me smile. I saw she liked that. She started to pull gobs of the material together around my body and use the safety pins to keep them folded. I watched her face as she worked. She seemed to glow with pleasure, little girl pleasure, the smile deepening around her lips and eyes. She used dozens and dozens of pins until she had the dress tightened and formed so I could move about with it on.
"There," she said finally. "Perfect. Go look at yourself. Melody Ann Pinewood."
"Melody Ann Pinewood?"
"That's your name tonight. And I'll be Louise Parker Farthingham. Both of us have beaus. too. You know what a beau is?"
"Like in your hair?"
"No, you silly heart," she said, gently squeezing my upper arm. "A beau is a boyfriend. We're not quite engaged yet, but we're close. We're worried about them, you see. They've gone on to fight the Yankees and we decided to wait. I didn't want to wait, did you?"
I shrugged. Wait for what?
"No, you didn't either, but our beaus wouldn't hear of it. They both told us they might die on the baffle-field and make us widows before we were wives." She leaned toward me to whisper. "I heard that line in a movie." She pulled back, then took me to stand in front of the mirror. "Well?" she asked. "Do you like your dress?"
I squinted. The odor made my eyes burn. I scrunched up my nose.
"Don't worry about the smell. I told you I would spray you with lots of perfume."
I couldn't imagine looking more silly. The clumps of material bubbled out around my waist and chest, and the skirt had been pulled up unevenly so that more of my right leg showed than my left.
"Well?" she asked again. "Isn't it a beautiful dress?" She looked like she was holding her breath, waiting for my answer. I was afraid to disappoint her.
"Yes."
She clapped and seized my shoulders to turn me back to the mirror.
"Now let me do something with your hair and then we'll do some makeup and we'll be ready to have a mint julep before dinner in our parlor."
"What's a mint julep?"
"Oh, it's a civilized, polite drink. You'll love it. darlin' Melody. I had my first mint julep with my daddy on a summer night when the sky was streaking with shooting stars. He said. 'Make a wish, my little princess, for tonight it will come true,' and you know what I wished for?"
I shook my head.
"I wished for a friend like you, a wonderful, precious friend like you and here you are. Melody Ann, my own precious little friend. You came from a shooting star. Now sit right here and I'll do your hair right and proper and then"-- she paused to bring her lips to my ear--"and then well sneak on some rouge before anyone sees."
She took a brush to my hair and began,
"What the hell..." we heard and both turned to see Mae Betty in the doorway, holding a pail and a mop. "What do you think you and that child are doing, Miss Wilkens?"
"Miss Wilkens? I do believe you have made a mistake. There's no Miss Wilkens here. My name is Louise Parker Farthingham and this is Melody Ann Pinewood, You can tell them we'll be down for our gala dinner shortly."
"Damn," she said, shaking her head. "Rich people," she added and walked off.
"Don't mind that. Melody Ann. There are all sorts of confused people about these days. Pity their poor souls. They might just make a wrong turn and end up in some swamp. Now where was I?" she asked and returned to my hair. "You have such beautiful hair," she said, running her hand over my head. Her eves grew sad, and she stopped talking like a Southerner.
"I had hair like that once," she said with a note of sadness, "It was exactly the same color as yours. too. I would sit in front of my mirror and brush it
for hours while I listened to music or just dreamed. Emma would come behind me and complain about all the time I was wasting, but what would I have done with the time anyway? She always worried about time, as if there was a giant hourglass in our house and the sand was running down. Once. I turned all my clocks on their faces in my room and she hurried off to tell our father. He came to my room and looked, and then he laughed and said he wished he could do the same. Emma was fit to be tied.
"You know what I think?" she continued. "I think we should have clocks with no hands on them." She smiled. "That's what I have now, you know, clocks with no hands. It's one o'clock when I say it's one o'clock and not when some watch says it is.
"Of course, I have to be careful I don't miss my programs so I can't be completely oblivious. That's why I have this watch with an alarm. Lester got it for me and showed me how to use it. Now I won't be oblivious.
"Isn't that a nice big word? Oblivious. Emma used it all the time. Frances is oblivious. I finally looked it up. It means 'lacking conscious awareness' or 'unmindful.' What a silly word. I thought. I would tell people I was oblivious. but I didn't sound ashamed or embarrassed, and that would make Emma even angrier.
"I'll tell you a little secret," she said, actually glancing at the doorway first. "I liked making Emma angry. You mustn't tell her. It would make her even angrier," she said, "and she might do something to spoil our fun. She might even send you away to live with strangers."
She brushed and brushed my hair and began to hum to herself. As I studied her face in the mirror. I thought she looked lonely, lost. She went in and out of her imagination to keep from being sad. I felt sorry for her, living here all alone with people nearby who really didn't take care of her as they should have. Why hadn't Grandmother Emma been closer to her, taken better care of her? It was mean.
"There now," she said after she pinned my hair in the back. "Don't you look absolutely beautiful? You'll break hearts downstairs. Remember, we're devoted to our beaus. We can flirt a little, but nothing more. That's all right. Don't look at me like that. Melody. Young women like us are expected to be flirtatious. Now then," she said. "a little rouge on your cheeks."
She brushed some on me, then stood back and looked at me in the mirror.
"A little more. I think," she said. I thought she had put on too much and I looked silly, but I didn't say so. She put too much on herself as well. "Now let me spray you with perfume," she said and put on so much that I reeked enough to be smelled back in Bethlehem. "Ready?" she asked. "We'll go down and have our mint juleps on the veranda and wait for dinner."
She took my hand and led me out and down the stairs. When I looked at her. I saw she wore a smile of expectation so real that it made me wonder if we would indeed find people and music and food below. Maybe she could wave a wand and perform
something magical. I used to dream of doing that to make the mansion a happier place for all of us. How could she be so happy in such a run-down house as this if she didn't have a way to do something magical?
Lester had completed the work he'd had to do in the bathroom, and he'd put bulbs in the hallway chandeliers. The light they dropped around us revealed more scuffs on the walls, and I saw just how dull and dirty the floor still was. Maybe it was too late to make the house look clean again. Maybe it was too far gone and that was why Grandmother Emma didn't really care or worry about it.
I thought Alanis must have finished the work her mother had given her. because I didn't hear the vacuum cleaner or anyone talking below. As we descended the stairs. I saw Lester on a ladder in the entryway putting bulbs in that chandelier. He turned and looked at us. He didn't look as surprised as I imagined he would be.
"Oh, Southern fried chicken tonight," he said.
"And please don't forget the chocolate marshmallow ice cream. Lester."
"No, ma'am. I'll be off to the store as soon as I can."
He put in the last bulb and stepped down. We watched him fold up the ladder. He nodded at us and went out the front door.
"We should take a short walk before dinner." Great-aunt Frances said. "This way."
She led me down the hallway, through the kitchen and out the door in the laundry room. The late afternoon sun was just behind the tops of the trees to the west. I saw the chickens in the pen with the rooster marching about them proudly, and then I looked at the barn. The doors had swung open and I could see there was nothing in it, no cows, no horses, just empty stalls and old hay on the floor. Beyond it was a large pond that went around the trees on our left. A rowboat bobbed gently by a short dock. Suddenly, we heard the honking of geese and looked up to see them in a perfect A-formation.
"There it is." Great-aunt Frances said, "the first good-bye to summer. They're going south. My father used to start his winter preparations on the first sign of them heading for warmer weather."
That memory brought a fresh smile to her face. She looked about, and the joy came into her eves as if she saw a brand- new farm with beautiful landscaping, clean and neat.
"Now that you're here, we should get Lester to clear all the land. There will still be warm enough days for us to enjoy the grounds, going rowing and drift with the breeze, and maybe roast marshmallows around a fire at night. Doesn't that all sound wonderful?"
I nodded. It did.
She held on to my arm and walked us toward the lake.
"I never really minded living here. Isn't it still very pretty?"
"Yes," I said. I tried hard to see it the way I imagined she was seeing it.
"When I first came here," she said. "I spent a great deal of my time sitting by the lake. There were so many different birds, and it was pleasant to watch how the breeze made the water ripple. We'll do that on nice afternoons."
"Where did you live before you lived here?" I asked.
"I lived in my father and mother's home until Emma had it sold."
"Why did she sell it if you were living in it?"
She didn't answer. I thought she might not have heard me because she was thinking so hard about happier times.
"Why did you come here to live?" I pursued.
Finally, she looked at me. Her smile didn't fade, but it seemed to lose its energy and freeze. There was a tightening around her eyes. I thought she was going to tell me, but instead, she turned her head to look back at the house. Her Southern accent returned when she spoke.
"Oh. listen, The music has started. People must be arriving. We'll have to go back to help greet the guests. Mama would be upset if we didn't," she said.
Music? Mama?
She turned and started us toward the rear entrance. Before we reached it, the door opened and Alanis stepped out on the short landing. She put her hands on her hips and looked at us, a wide grin washing through her face.
"Mama just told me about you. What are you two doing?" she asked and laughed.
"Get back to the kitchen. Tessie, before I tell Mr. Farthingham," Great-aunt Frances replied.
"Huh? Tessie? Who you calling Tessie? And who's Mr. Farthingham? Get back into the kitchen? You don't know how foolish you look, girl," Alanis said to me. She shook her head, then went back inside.
"Daddy says the servants are gettin' uppity and restless ever since the Yankees won at Gettysburg. I'm afraid we're looking at the twilight of the world as we knew it. Melody Ann. We might as well enjoy what we can. There's a storm on the horizon."
I looked at her and saw how she had turned very sad. Being in this oversize dress, having too much rouge on my cheeks, and my hair brushed down and pinned, I did feel as if we were both in a school play and we were both supposed to look a little sad at this point.
We went into the living room to wait for Lester to bring the Southern fried chicken and ice cream. I sat on the sofa, and 'with Miss Puss curled up below me. I listened to Great-aunt Frances continue to talk about life in the South back at the time of the Civil War. She appeared to have memorized all sorts of speeches and stories she had seen and heard on television or in movies, and even
though I did feel silly after a while. I still listened and enjoyed the way she paraded about the room, gesturing toward invisible guests who arrived, telling me all about this one or that. Everyone had a story attached to his or her name. I imagined that years and years of watching soap operas and reading her stories had given her a rich well of information from which she could draw pails and pails of love, of comedy and of tragedy.
"We feast on gossip, dear Melody Ann," she said. "It's like eating chocolate cake and never getting full or fat because gossip is light and airy but delicious, don't you think?
"Now." she said before I could think of an answer, 'I've talked enough. It's your turn. You must tell me all about life in the big city. Go on, start with describing the mansion," she said and dropped herself into the big easy chair, exhausted from her long speeches and dramatics. She stared with anticipation. "Tell me about Bethlehem." she added when I said nothing.
"Bethlehem?" So we were no longer in a play?
"Bethlehem, Bethlehem. Emma's kingdom. I've never been invited, you know."
Never invited? Was this just part of her pretending? "Didn't you ever see Grandmother Emma's mansion?"
"You know I haven't. Melody Ann. I've been waiting for a proper invitation. Go on, tell me about it all, and don't leave out a single detail."
I began, but I felt strange telling my great-aunt Frances about her own sister's house. She had so many questions about everything I described that I was convinced she really had never seen it or been there to visit. Why hadn't she ever been invited? I wondered.
"It sounds as wonderful as I imagined it to be," she said. "I do want to hear all about your parents, too. but I see it's time for us to go to dinner."
Lester had returned with his arms full of bags, and he'd gone into the kitchen. He peered in at us on his way out.
"Don't leave the ice cream out too long. Miss Wilkens."
Great-aunt Frances didn't reply. She looked at me and smiled as if Lester had been the one lost in some imaginary world and not us. After he left, she rose, and we went into the kitchen. She put the ice cream in the freezer, then took out the boxes of Southern fried chicken dinners. She gazed at them for a moment, then smiled at me.