Catch as Cat Can (6 page)

8

Although covering less than two miles from the high school to the town's main intersection, the route was hilly. The float builders, knowing this, had devised railings and props such as fake boulders with little handholds on them, so that the people on the floats could grab them when the floats rolled downhill.

Lottie Pearson forgot this. When the Daughters of the Confederacy float dipped into the decline just before the fire department, she lurched off the float, saved only by the metal in her hoopskirt, which hit the pavement first. Unhurt, she was helped back on the float by friends standing along the parade route. Roger couldn't leave the truck. Lottie's skirt was bent, which meant her pantaloons showed. Each time she pushed the skirt back into place it popped up on the back side. The result drew cheers and laughter but not of the sort she hoped to hear. As she was the leading lady on the float, the one right up front, she was loath to relinquish her position. If the choice was between obscurity and showing her ass, Lottie bravely decided to show her ass.

As the last band marched out of the parking lot, the black and red of Albemarle High, Harry hopped down from her perch.

“Mom's got a little tan. Looks good against her white T-shirt,”
Pewter noted as Harry removed her sweater with the day's warming. Pewter giggled, remembering the sight of Harry ironing her jeans and T-shirt.

“Nobody looks better in jeans than Harry,”
Tucker called out from behind her mother.
“I mean, if this fellow likes a fit body then he has to like Mom.”

Mrs. Murphy loved her mother, but she realized that not all men like natural women. Many, attracted by artifice, want lots of hair, preferably blond, boobs pushed up to the max, long fingernails, expensive clothes, and perfect makeup. In a word, BoomBoom.

Harry actually was a beautiful woman but she had no sense of it. High cheekbones accentuated wonderful facial bone structure. Her long black eyelashes drew attention to her soft brown eyes. She rarely wore lipstick on her full lips. Her hair, short and black, curled just above the nape of her neck. But one had to study Harry to recognize her beauty. A woman like BoomBoom hit one over the head with it.

As Harry had no vanity she was able to concentrate on whomever she encountered. She didn't think she was pretty. She didn't worry about the impression she was making. Her focus was on the other person. This quality beguiled more men than her looks once they got around to really studying her. There was an innocence about her. It never occurred to her, not once, that she might be attractive to men. She had known her ex-husband since kindergarten. The art of flirting, of luring men, seemed irrelevant to her since she had always loved Fair. When he left her she assumed she'd never love again. She didn't launch into tirades about how awful men were, how they used women and dumped them, the usual cry of the abandoned female. Harry had seen women behave execrably toward men. As far as she was concerned one gender was as bad as the other.

Fair's attempts to reconcile touched her. She truly loved him but now in quite a different way. At first she felt she could never trust him again. Lately, she thought maybe she could. He'd learned and she'd learned but the difficult part was that she didn't know if she'd feel romantic about him again. Certainly she could go to bed with him. She knew his body the way a blind woman knows Braille. However, that didn't constitute romantic desire.

She didn't share these thoughts with Susan or Miranda. Harry kept her deepest thoughts to herself, sometimes asking the animals for their opinion.

As Mrs. Murphy watched Harry approach the truck she felt the lightness in her step, the surge of energy that illuminated her human's face.

“How could Diego not like Mom . . . but is he good enough?”
Mrs. Murphy stretched.
“After all, we are better judges of character than humans. We need to check out this situation.”

“You're right and I should have thought of that straight off.”
Tucker felt guilty.

“You would have eventually.”
Mrs. Murphy hopped into the bed of the truck just as Diego, of average height and muscular, hopped out.

“Oh, balls,”
Pewter disagreed.
“One human is pretty much like any other. They make a big deal out of these tiny, tiny differences but as a species they're all cut from the same cloth.”

“Mother's better.”
Tucker defended Harry, whom she loved with all her heart.

“They do fuss over nits and nit-picking but I think they're very different from one another and that's their challenge. They are herd animals and they need one another to survive but they can't build communities to include everyone. It's a real mess. They don't understand their fundamental nature, which is to be part of the herd,”
Murphy stated.

“I'm not part of any herd.”
Pewter proudly jumped down next to Murphy.

“Of course not. You're a cat,”
Murphy said.

“Murphy, this herd idea sounds good but you once said that dogs are pack animals and here I am—not with other dogs.”
Tucker waited for Harry to put her in the cab of the truck.

“We're your pack.”
Mrs. Murphy drove home her point.
“The fact that we're cats plus one human is beside the point.”

“H-m-m.”
Tucker pondered this as the humans chatted.
“I never thought of that.”

“Mrs. Murphy, Cat Supreme.”
Murphy pushed out her chest, then laughed.

“. . . merrier.” Diego finished his sentence, which had started out “The more.” He had agreed to ride in the cab of the truck with two cats, one dog, and Harry. He didn't seem to mind at all.

Harry drove them around the back way. They parked near the main intersection, walking the last block. The cats remained in the truck with the windows open. Neither one liked crowds, although they usually rode on Harry's shoulders if they had to enter a fray. Pewter complained about the marching music. She preferred Mozart. Furthermore, the trumpets hurt her ears. Mrs. Murphy thought it was time for her noon nap.

Tucker eagerly accompanied Harry and Diego. As they reached the main intersection the people lined the road four deep, a lot for Crozet. At five feet ten inches, Diego could see over most of the crowd, but Harry, at five feet six, had to stand on her tiptoes.

Diego gently worked his way to the front, reached back for Harry's hand, and pulled her up with him. When people saw it was their postmistress carrying Tucker they gladly gave way.

They'd no sooner reached their place than the United Daughters of the Confederacy float rolled by, with Lottie and her pantaloons evoking comment.

Harry heard Roger O'Bannon yell to a bystander, “Give me twenty bucks and I'll dump them all on the road.”

Laughter greeted this offer. Lottie ignored it, of course.

Spurred on by the laughter Roger stuck his head farther out of the truck, artfully concealed by the float. “Hey, Lottie, why don't you ditch the hoop?”

“Shut up, Roger.”

“You'd better be good to me. I'm driving this boat.” He laughed loudly. She ignored him again so he catcalled, “Lottie, oh, Lottie Pearson.”

“Roger, for God's sake, watch where you're going.”

They were cruising close to the side of the road.

“Just trying to get you girls a nice cold drink.”

Danny Tucker, Susan's son, rushed up, two drinks in each hand. The ladies eagerly reached down.

“How did women wear these things?” one young lady grumbled, for the finery was heavier than anything she had ever worn before.

“They didn't wear them every day,” Lottie snapped, then remembered her attention should focus on the crowd. She smiled big and waved, then she saw, really saw, Diego Aybar. Her smile froze. She recovered and continued to ignore Roger, whose suggestions grew ever more risqué.

By the end of the parade the mood of the participants and the crowd was even more elevated than at the beginning. The reason for this was that the Veterans of Foreign Wars had a small brass band with two snares and they peeled out of the parade as it ended, marching and playing all the while. They marched straight into a small bar where they continued to hold forth.

BoomBoom was taking a Polaroid of Don Clatterbuck and Roger at the float. The “belles” had all fled. The minute she clicked the picture both men made a beeline for the bar.

“Is it always like this?” Diego asked.

“More or less, which means either they're more drunk or less.” Harry smiled.

“Ah yes.” He smiled back at her and it was obvious he liked her. There weren't a lot of women like Harry hovering about the embassy. She intrigued him. “You know for us the seasons are opposite. Spring fever comes in late October and early November.”

“I imagine it's beautiful in South America.”

“Yes—not every centimeter but—yes.”

“Did BoomBoom give you today's schedule?”

“We are to go to a tea party. BoomBoom wanted me to meet you in the garden. She suggested I see the parade and meet you afterward but I wanted to meet you as soon as possible and I'm glad I did.”

“Me, too. I guess BoomBoom wanted us to meet in the garden because I'd have a dress on. I rarely do.” Harry blushed for a moment. “The truth is I'm 'most always in jeans.”

“Señorita, you are beautiful no matter what you wear.” He bowed his head slightly.

“Oh, this is good.”
Tucker happily drooled.

Harry burst out laughing. “Mr. Aybar—”

“Diego.”

“Diego, you are very kind.” She took a deep breath. “We have a few hours before dressing for the party. If you'd like I could drive you around, show you a bit of the county. I don't think there's any way we could get to Monticello and back on time, though.”

He held up his hand. “I have seen it. Mr. Jefferson has my full admiration.”

“Cruise?”

“Cruise.” He echoed her word. Diego was a quick study.

And cruise they did, chatting all the while. She drove by estates, apple orchards, cattle farms. To her delight she learned that the Aybars maintained a residence in Montevideo but the family had an
estancia
where they bred cattle.

Diego, educated at Duke, studied law at Yale and then studied back home in Uruguay. His father propelled him toward diplomacy but his heart was in farming.

“I'm at a crossroads.”

“And your father will be upset?”

“Ballistic.” Diego smiled wanly. “Family is, oh, I can't say more important in my country but tighter, a deeper sense of obligation, perhaps. Here the job comes first—or so it seems to me. Home, it's family. And like everything, that's both good and bad. You see, we have ruling families and they ask not what is best for Uruguay but what is best for the family.”

“I think I understand. And you come from such a family.”

“My father and grandfather would like to think so.”

“Perhaps the weekend can take your mind off your crossroads.”

“Or help me make a decision. One hates to disappoint one's family, no?—but one hates to violate one's self.”

“Entire novels have been written about that.” Harry turned back toward the mountains. “Where is Thomas Steinmetz?”

Diego replied, “He had some business to attend to but will be at the tea. You must know that your county is overflowing with retired ambassadors, diplomats, senior officials, and senior officers of the military.”

By the time Harry dropped Diego back at the guest house at BoomBoom's place, they had learned a lot about one another. Perhaps the most important thing was that they both had a sense of humor.

The phone rang as Harry struggled with her panty hose.

“How do you like Diego?” BoomBoom asked.

“He's handsome and charming.”

“I thought you'd like him. His passion is farming.”

“Yes, we discovered that. Are you calling me just to find out if I like him?” Harry remained suspicious of Boom.

“Well, no. I need your help. Roger O'Bannon insulted Lottie Pearson and she's mad at me anyway—all the more so since she laid eyes on Diego. I asked Aunt Tally if she might disinvite Roger and she wouldn't hear of it, but you know how Aunt Tally likes a scene. I thought you might speak to her. She likes you better than she likes me.”

“BoomBoom, since when are you solicitous of Lottie Pearson? There's more than you're telling me.”

“No, really there isn't. I was hoping to spare Aunt Tally a scene.”

“For God's sake, BoomBoom, as you said, Aunt Tally lives for a scene.” Harry started to laugh.

“You're right. I contradicted myself.” BoomBoom sighed deeply. “I was hoping to spare myself.”

Aunt Tally was about to get her scene all right but it wasn't the one BoomBoom anticipated.

9

In order for a Virginia party to be a success certain things must occur. First, someone has to leave in tears. Second, someone has to pass out due to overindulgence. Third, there has to be a fistfight, and last, someone has to fall in love.

If pressed on these qualities most Virginians would decry the fistfight, the tears, and the drunkenness, but not Aunt Tally. Forthright about life being theater, or at least her parties being theater, she mixed her guests like water and sulfuric acid, then waited for the explosion.

Her advancing years only whetted her appetite for drama. Her beloved yet criticized niece, Big Mim, said it was because Aunt Tally had no sex life. She stirred up other people's hormones.

Upon hearing this, Tally snapped, “Of course I have no sex life. There are no men over ninety and those under ninety won't look at me. You find me a beau and I'll wear him out. I'm still hell in bed, Marilyn, and don't you forget it!”

“Dear God, spare me,” Big Mim murmured through her frosted-bronze lipstick.

This was said in front of Reverend Jones, Miranda, Susan and Ned Tucker, as well as Lottie Pearson, who arrived early so as to mix with the older crowd, ever trolling for major donors to the university. There was no way Big Mim could be spared.

“Well, what are you all staring at with your mouths hanging open? Catch flies that way.” Tally flicked out her silver hound's-head cane at the assembled. Before she could further berate the small gathering, the doors were flung open and everyone else seemed to arrive at once. The O'Bannons, extremely merry, roared in. Roger wore a sprig of mint in his sports coat for reasons known only to himself and Jim Beam. Sean kissed Aunt Tally repeatedly. She was loath to let him go.

Ned Tucker realized that Aunt Tally's servants, almost as old as the great lady herself, would never be able to pass the hors d'oeuvres and drinks fast enough. He hastily directed people to the bar, a temporary measure. He then called the band director of Crozet High School, an old friend, telling him to send a couple of kids over to pass food around. He'd make a contribution to Crozet High.

He no sooner hung up the phone when BoomBoom swirled in, the diaphanous skirt of her spring dress, a pastel lavender, catching light and the breeze. Next to BoomBoom, in line to meet Aunt Tally, stood Thomas Steinmetz, blond, middle-aged, impeccably dressed. This was a man who flew to London at a whim to be measured for shirts at Turnbull & Asser, suits from shops on Jermyn Street, and shoes from Lobb's or Maxwells. Standing behind Thomas was Diego, also impeccably turned out, a bright turquoise handkerchief in his silk-and-linen jacket breast pocket.

Tally's sharp eye missed nothing. “Harrow?” she asked Thomas.

“Yes.” He nodded slightly to the American, who recognized his old school tie from England. Most Americans hadn't a clue.

“Well, you're a wise man then—wise enough to escort one of the most beautiful women in Virginia.” She was taking his measure.

“Madam, I am speaking to one of the most beautiful women in Virginia.” Thomas bowed low and Tally pursed her lips, all ready to say something about being The Ancient of Days, but at the last minute she decided to enjoy the praise.

“You are very kind, Mr. Ambassador.” BoomBoom had given Tally his bio before, of course, but she bumped him up from being counsel to number one. He didn't mind. She turned her attentions now to Diego, being introduced by BoomBoom. When she took a moment to focus on him, his light brown eyes, his jet-black hair, she breathed in. Oh, if only she were young again!

She and Diego chatted and laughed as two cats and one dog tore through the house.

“Quick. Let's get past the receiving line!”
Mrs. Murphy led her friends.
“Aunt Tally will insist we do tricks.”

“I smell ham biscuits.”
A dreamy look came over Pewter.

“Later. We've got to dodge the humans.”
Tucker nudged Pewter with her nose, for the fat kitty had slowed down.

“They can just get out of my way,”
she replied with a saucy toss of her gray head, but she did move.

Tally said, “Where's Harry?”

BoomBoom called over her shoulder for Tally was now greeting Tracy Raz, who'd stopped off to buy an orchid corsage for Miranda as well as one for Aunt Tally. “She's in the garden.”

“She can't go in the garden before she goes through the receiving line. You tell her to get her bucket back here or she'll hear from me.”

“I will but—” BoomBoom glanced around, then walked back, whispering something in the old lady's ear.

“Oh, well, all right, but tell her she has to come back here then.” She smiled a moment. “Harry. H-m-m.”

Diego strode into the garden, where Harry waited in a simple but very becoming dress. She leaned against a handsome bench built in the eighteenth century, worth a small fortune. Tally believed things should be used. Her only concession to the bench's value was to bring the outdoor furniture into the huge mudroom each night. Her George II silver, her Hepplewhite sofa, chairs, all the paraphernalia of old Virginia wealth pleased her, but she wasn't possessed by her possessions. Nor did she call attention to them. Only new people did that.

Diego bowed, then kissed Harry's right hand, brushing the back of her hand with his lips, the proper way. “In the future, I shall equate spring with you.”

“Diego, you know how to turn a girl's head.” She laughed.

“May I bring you a drink?”

“I think you'll have to because Aunt Tally's butler probably can't make it from the bar to the garden.” She noted his puzzled look, then she pointed out the butler, who happened to be slowly passing the opened French doors.

“Ah, a gentleman in the fullness of his years.”

“Before you fetch me a drink I must pay honors to Aunt Tally. I ran around the back of the house and didn't go through the receiving line because I wanted you to find me in the garden. I guess I spoiled the effect by telling. I was running late because my neighbor's cows crashed through the fence and I had to drive them back. My neighbor knows next to nothing about farming plus he's in Seattle on a photo shoot for Nordstrom's. I just made it!”

“A photographer?”

“A model. Little Mim was mad for him. You've met Marilyn?”

“Only just, on my way to you.”

Harry stood up, a little unsteady on her heels. “I don't know why I'm talking so much. I'm actually a fairly quiet person. Everyone will tell you that and lots else, I guess.” She smiled, her white teeth enhancing her clean, open features.

“I'll walk you back to the grand Aunt Tally. I take it she earned her name hunting?”

Harry positively beamed. “Oh, you know about foxhunting?”

“Tally champagne.” He called out as they passed the bar and Ned Tucker held up a bottle of violently expensive champagne.

They both laughed as Roger said a bit too loudly, “Come on, Ned. Stop telling me how great it is and pour, dammit.”

“An artist?” Diego noted Roger's attire . . . just off, despite his wearing a sports coat. The cowboy boots didn't help.

“Uh, a mechanic. He and his brother Sean own a salvage yard filled with architectural pieces, columns, that stuff. It's quite interesting.” They'd reached the line for Aunt Tally. Big Mim had rejoined her aunt on the receiving line.

No sooner had Harry and Diego taken their place than who should walk up behind them but Fair, at six foot five towering over everyone.

“Harry.” He leaned down and kissed his ex-wife. He knew thanks to BoomBoom that she was “helping out” with the South Americans as BoomBoom put it, but of course Boom had neglected to describe Diego. When Harry introduced them, Fair struggled to contain his surprise and dismay. He collected himself. “Welcome to Crozet.”

“Thank you.” Diego firmly shook his hand.

At that moment Harry reached Aunt Tally and Big Mim. Both ladies took in the situation. A sly smile crossed Aunt Tally's lips, Lancôme lipstick generously but not sloppily applied.

“Aunt Tally, I cheated.”

“I know you did but in a good cause.” She turned her cheek for Harry to kiss her. “I saw your animals rip through here so I knew you couldn't be far behind. That cat of yours, the gray one, will eat me out of house and home.”

“Be glad she doesn't drink.”

Tally laughed. “There is that. And Mr. Aybar, you may kiss me now, too, since you've met me.” She turned her other cheek and Diego kissed it, then kissed the back of her hand.

He bowed and also kissed Big Mim's hand. She brightened considerably.

As they moved away both Aunt Tally and Big Mim made a fuss over Fair, how good he was to forgo a date with Harry so the Uruguayan gentleman wouldn't be lonesome, how's foaling, how are you, etc.

As Fair moved away, quickly intercepted by Lottie Pearson wearing a flowered hat, Tally whispered to her niece, “I just lo-o-ove my parties. Uh-huh.”

“You're incorrigible.” Big Mim laughed, then reached out to greet Deputy Cynthia Cooper, herself in a spring dress. “I don't think I've ever seen you look so lovely.”

The tall woman replied with humor, “Mrs. Sanburne, I don't think you've ever seen me in a dress.”

“Well . . . yes.”

“You're a tall girl. You'd look good in anything, even chain mail,” Aunt Tally said. “Is your boss coming by?”

“The sheriff said he'd try to make it but he's a little behind today.”

“It was good of him to let you join us.” Tally let go of her hand and Cynthia headed for her friend Harry.

Big Mim whispered, “Security. You didn't tell me you hired security.”

“I didn't. I like Cynthia Cooper.” Tally beamed at Lynne Beegle, a prominent local rider, as she moved up in the receiving line.

Harry, Diego, and Cooper chatted away, soon joined by Miranda Hogendobber, Tracy Raz, Susan Tucker, and Ned. They celebrated Tracy's return, found out that Diego had a great sense of humor, and thoroughly enjoyed one another.

Over in a corner, Lottie Pearson fended off Roger O'Bannon. She had a smile on her face as she refused his advances. She'd never admit it but she liked the attention. Fair, not being her date, had gotten her a drink, then circulated. He was currently talking to Little Mim about zoning ordinances, not his favorite subject but one of hers.

Lottie pulled a cigarette from her small beaded clutch bag. “Damn.” She couldn't find a light.

Roger pulled a brightly colored matchbook from his sports coat, struck a match, lighting her cigarette. “Here, take the pack.” He paused. “I'll pick you up at eight,” he declared.

“No, you won't.” She tossed her head back.

“I'll take you to Mim's dance tonight, too. You don't have a date. And I'll escort you to the Wrecker's Ball.”

“Who told you that?” Lottie crossly said. “I have a date for tonight.”

“A little bird.”

She eyed BoomBoom across the room. “A big robin redbreast. Wait until I get my hands on her.”

“I'd rather you get your hands on me.”

Eavesdroppers stifled a giggle, making certain not to stare at the impending drama.

“Roger, dream on.”

“You know what's wrong with you, Lottie? You're a goddamned snob. And you know what else? I've never seen a snob who was really happy because there are so few people they can lower themselves to be with, you know? And you need friends in this world. You need friends. It's a cruel world sometimes. You need friends and you need a drink.”

“You've had enough to drink, which is why I'll forgive you calling me a snob. If you want me to go out with you, Roger, you're sure going about it in a bizarre manner.”

“I'm not drunk.” A whiff of belligerence filled his voice. “And I'm getting rich. You forget that. How many F.F.V.'s have money? Look at Harry. Great blood and not a penny.” He liked Harry but he didn't mind using her as an example of First Families of Virginia. “Business is booming. I'm not a poor man. Didn't your mother tell you it's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one? Well, I'm rich.”

Lottie at the moment wasn't pleased with Harry because she thought Diego should have been her date. BoomBoom was heartless in assigning Diego to Harry. After all, Harry could have gone to the parties with her ex-husband. Everyone knew he was still in love with her and was dying to get her back.

“Lottie, maybe you've had too much to drink.” Roger touched her arm as she was lost in thought.

“Huh. No!”

“Well, let me get you one. The world looks a lot better after you've belted back some Jim Beam.”

The John D'earth band started playing out in the garden. Aunt Tally had set up her outdoor dance floor. People drifted outside.

Sean, wearing a sports jacket and tie, walked over. “Roger, lay off for a little bit or you'll be useless by tonight.”

“Big Brother is watching you,” Roger said with no malice as Sean moved away, Lottie in tow.

“Thank you, Sean,” Lottie said, her voice low.

“He's always had this crush on you, Lottie. I wish you could see past his exterior. Roger is a good man and he'd be a good provider, solid. He needs a woman to anchor him. He drinks because he's lonely.”

“This is said by a man still single.” Lottie thought Sean the better-looking of the brothers.

“The business has taken up so much of my time, a lot more than I thought. I'll tell you, I've sure learned to respect my father and grandfather. They started the business and they changed with the times although at the end Dad was set in his ways. Rog and I have to put everything we've got in the business. But you know, I like the challenge.” He exhaled a long deep breath. “But I do have to get out more. I'm not going to find a wife in the junkyard.”

“Oh, if BoomBoom, now the artiste, comes to your lot I imagine other women do, too.”

“You'd be surprised at the people who come out there.” He grinned in semi-agreement. “BoomBoom surprises me. She really is welding.” He held up his hand. “Honestly. She's making sculptures out of scraps and they aren't bad. Kind of whimsical. But I still don't think I'm going to meet the love of my life at the salvage yard.”