Revenge of the Kudzu Debutantes (20 page)

“What about Eadie?”

“Oh, I’d fit you in ahead of Eadie. I’d fit you in ahead of anybody.”

Most of the crowd had reached the parking lot and began to disperse in a cloud of dust and moving automobiles and pickup trucks. Only a few people passed them on the road now. “I don’t think I’ll be doing much else to that house,” Nita said absently.

“Have you thought about the woodworking?” They walked from beneath the trees into a clearing. The sky behind him filled with light. Great frothy clouds sailed across the horizon. She had not felt this way in years. She had never felt this way.”Woodworking?” she said.

“Oh, don’t tell me you forgot.” He put his hand on his chest like she had wounded him. They were walking so close together she could see the small jagged scar running beneath his lip. “You said you wanted a hobby and I told you I could teach you to make wooden trivets, and cigar boxes, and maybe even furniture. Remember?”

They reached the parking lot. His cleats made sharp little metallic sounds in the loose gravel. Across the lot she could see Eadie and Logan sitting in her car. Logan was sitting in the driver’s seat, pretending to drive. Eadie had her head back against the headrest like she was sleeping. The lot was deserted except for her car and four or five others. “What about your girlfriend?” she said, stopping.

He frowned. “My girlfriend?” He put his thumbs under the strap of his bag and looked at her. “What girlfriend?”

Nita shrugged and waved one careless hand toward the fields. “The tall blonde. The pretty one.”

He grinned and shook his head. Nita thought,
This is crazy.
She thought,
What am I doing?
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said. “She’s my cousin. I’m teaching her to be a soccer referee.”

It was hard to think straight with him standing so close. It was hard to see the big picture with his mouth so close to hers. A sudden breeze blew her hair across her face.

“I’m still married,” she said.

He said, “I know that.”

“I’m a wife and a mother in a town where everybody knows everybody else’s secrets.”

“Hell, Nita, it’s an offer to learn woodworking, not a proposition.”

She flushed, but felt compelled to finish. “I’m the wife of a bitter and vindictive man.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he said, grinning and holding them up so she could see them. “I promise.”

She thought of Eadie and her joy in her art, and Nita thought,
Oh, what’s the harm in a little woodworking?
“Okay,” she said, pushing past him. “I’ll call you.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

She turned around, walking backward for a few steps so she could see his face. “This time I mean it,” she said, and smiling, she turned around and headed for the car.

CHAPTER

TEN

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Nita went out to her parents’ house early so she could explain to them how she had caught her husband of sixteen years cheating on her. It wouldn’t have done any good to try and keep it all secret; Nita never was any good at keeping secrets from people she loved, it just wasn’t in her nature—besides, her mother would have taken one look at her and known something was wrong. Nita would have preferred not to tell her daddy; Eustis James was an old-school Southerner who believed in shotgun weddings and shotgun funerals, but Nita knew her mother would tell him anyway. It seemed best he hear it from her. Maybe she could keep him calm by reminding him Charles was her husband in the sight of God, and father to her children. Maybe her daddy would go easy on Charles if she reminded him she had no intention of breaking up her family by divorcing her husband or becoming a thirty-nine-year-old widow.

She told them everything except the part about Jimmy Lee and the fact that she had a date with Jimmy Lee to learn woodworking the following week. There were some things Nita wasn’t willing to share with her mother, at least not yet.

Loretta’s round chin trembled with rage and her face got pink and her hair stood up around her head like a nuclear explosion. “Those low-life bar dogs,” she said, meaning the husbands of course. “So, are you going to quit him?” she asked fiercely.

“Mama!” Nita was surprised her mother had even mentioned it, given her Baptist upbringing and the fact there hadn’t been a divorce in their family for years. “I’m not planning on leaving my husband. I’ve got two children to think about.”

They sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and watching Logan and Whitney stuff a scarecrow out of straw and leaves in the backyard.

Eustis James rose, kissed her gently on the forehead, told her he loved her, and went out into the backyard to help his grandchildren with the scarecrow. He came back a minute later and stuck his head through the door. “I admire your courage and determination to stay, honey, but you know I’d be happy to shoot him if you want me to. It wouldn’t bother me one little bit. I’d do it and serve my time and not think a thing of it.”

“I appreciate that, Daddy.”

He nodded and went out. Loretta patted Nita’s hand and said, “Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. It’ll all come out in the wash, you’ll see. I’ve watched you for years living in misery up to your armpits married to that low-life stump sucker, and I can’t say I’d be sorry to have you wash your hands of him.” She thumped her fingers for a moment on the table, thinking. “Your daddy’s right, though. A funeral’s cheaper, and a hell of a lot less messy than a divorce. At least, that’s always been true in our family.”

Nita wasn’t quite sure what her mother was trying to say. Her grandmother had been widowed at an early age, as had her great-grandmother and two great aunts on her mother’s side. “Mama, there’s only been one divorce in our family I can think of, and that was Aunt Effie. I don’t want to become only the second woman in generations to divorce her husband! What about all those proud Sweeneys and Gordons that came before us? What would they say?”

“Lord, child, what are you rambling on about?” Loretta wore her hair pulled back from her face and twisted into a small bun at the nape of her neck. She’d never been a slave to fashion. She’d worn her hair exactly the same way for forty years. “Of course there haven’t been many divorces in our family. What do you think happened to a woman who divorced her husband, for any reason, forty or fifty years ago? She lost her home, her children, and her good name. My great-grandfather beat my great-grandmother every night of their married lives, and what did she do about it? Did she divorce him? No, she did what every other unhappily married wife of her generation did, or at least the ones with spunk. She fed him poke root or rat poison or dried bleeding heart in his soup.”

“Mama, what are you saying?” Nita was horrified to imagine the white-haired, saintly looking great-grandmother she’d seen in family photographs as a murderess.

“I’m saying funerals are a hell of a lot easier than divorces.” Loretta got up and went to turn on the oven. She always made a big dinner on Sundays, with lots of fresh vegetables and corn bread and fried chicken or pork chops. If Charles was out of town, or busy playing golf, she and the children would sneak out and join Loretta and Eustis at the midday meal.

Nita sat there, stunned, and watched her happy children drive the golf cart around the yard. She didn’t like to think of her family tree peopled with poisoners and murderesses. If these were the kind of women she came from, it made her wonder what she herself might be capable of.

After awhile, Loretta came back and sat down. “Of course, honey, I’m not recommending that you murder your husband.” She laughed reassuringly and patted Nita’s hands. “You girls nowadays are lucky, because you don’t have to stay in a bad marriage, you can leave with your children and your good name and, if you’re lucky, a little money, too, and start all over again. I’m not trying to tell you to leave your husband, you’ll have to make that decision yourself. But I am telling you I don’t want you staying with him because of some mistaken idea that you’ll be letting your family down if you do leave. You worry about yourself, and your children, and nothing else.”

“Okay, Mama,” Nita said, worried that Loretta still seemed so worked up. “Me and Eadie and Lavonne are going to punish the husbands our own way, and you’ve got to keep quiet or you’ll ruin everything. Eadie and Lavonne are coming out after dinner and we’re going to talk about what we have to do. It’s okay, Mama. We have a plan.”

Loretta shook her head and leaned her elbows on the table as if she hadn’t heard her. “Those slack-jawed hyenas,” she said. “Those dirty low-down clinkers.” She hunched her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I hope your plan’s a good one,” she said.

L
ORETTA WAS STILL
angry when Eadie and Lavonne showed up two hours later. She stalked around the kitchen like a miniature pit bull, growling to herself and slamming pots and pans and throwing silverware in the drawers. Eustis had quickly excused himself after dinner, and he and Logan and Whitney had jumped on the golf cart and headed down to the pond to do some fishing. Nita helped her mother clean up. Later, she explained to Eadie and Lavonne that she’d told her mother everything.

“You can keep a secret, right, Loretta?” Lavonne said. “Because if any of this gets out before our husbands leave for the hunting trip, we’re sunk. The only chance we have for revenge and an equitable settlement is to take the sons of bitches by surprise.”

Loretta poured them all a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Her apron was a bright red color and read
Roosters Crow, Hens Deliver
in big black letters across the front. “You girls can count on me. I’ll keep it secret as an old maid’s dreams,” she said, hunkering down over her coffee. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

Lavonne told her, explaining how they were going to hire the prostitutes for this year’s trip themselves, mentioning Ramsbottom’s plan to take photographs, and confirming that she and Eadie were divorcing their husbands as soon as they returned and therefore had to get their hands on as much cash as they could in the meantime.

Loretta especially liked the taking-pictures-to-use-as-blackmail part of the plan. That was a scheme right up her alley. “You gotta grab them by the short hairs, girls,” she crowed, slapping the table. “And yank.”

“I don’t know,” Lavonne said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure about the photographs.”

“I don’t think we should take pictures,” Nita said. “That’ll make Charles so mad he’s likely to do anything.” It wasn’t hard to imagine Charles divorcing her and taking the children so she was only able to see them on the occasional holiday or weekend. Nita was beginning to rethink this whole revenge plan.

“Taking pictures kind of takes it to a whole new level of dirty-dealing,” Lavonne said, shaking her head. “Hell, we might as well be terrorists. We might as well be Republicans.”

“I am a Republican,” Nita said.

“Then act like one,” Loretta said. “Those pictures will knock the boys off their high horses. Those pictures will make sure they play fair when it comes to monetary responsibility.”

Nita looked at her mother with love and admiration. “Mama, I want to be just like you when I grow up,” she said.

“Honey, you are just like me,” Loretta said, patting her arm. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Lavonne showed them the financial data she’d pulled from Leonard’s personal files. “Good Lord,” Loretta said, pointing with her finger. “Is that really what the old boy’s worth?”

“Trevor was worth more than that,” Eadie said, grinning. “Until I started spending it all.”

“Let’s only use the pictures as a backup,” Nita said, imagining how angry Charles would be if they went through with this. “Let’s only use the pictures if Trevor and Leonard won’t agree to settle.”

“Fair enough,” Lavonne said. “You guys have to remember there’s a lot of money at stake here. Even so, I’m not trying to take Leonard for everything, which is what he’s trying to do to me by putting it all in his name. I’m just trying to make sure he plays fair, financially speaking, which is something you need to be concerned about, too, Nita. I know you’re not planning on leaving Charles, but you still need to find out where the money’s hidden, you still need to come up with some way of having your own bank account.”

They all looked at her. Everyone knew Charles was a tightwad miser. Loretta patted Nita again. “She’s right, honey. Charles Broadwell wouldn’t loan a beggar a nickel unless the Lord and all his disciples cosigned the note.”

“Mama, you’re talking about the children’s daddy,” Nita reminded her.

“I’m just telling you, you need to look out for yourself. A woman without her own money will always be dependent on her husband.”

“Okay,” Eadie said, trying to get them back on track. “So it’s agreed. We’ll tell Ramsbottom to take the pictures and videos, too.”

“What’s to keep Ramsbottom from blackmailing them?”

“Ramsbottom is retiring. He’s selling his ranch to a movie star for more money than he can spend in three lifetimes. The pictures are just his little parting shot. It turns out we’re not the only ones wanting revenge on our darling husbands.”

“Even if he agrees to take the photos,” Lavonne reminded them, “there’s no guarantee they’ll come out. There’s no guarantee the camera won’t jam, or the film get overexposed or lost in the mail.”

“There’s no guarantee any of this will work,” Eadie said cheerfully. “But we have to have faith it will.”

“Okay, the pictures are a definite yes,” Lavonne said. “Now how about the money—Eadie, have you figured out some way to get your hands on a large chunk of cash?”

“I’m not worried. Trevor’s never cut me off before.”

“Yes, well, Eadie, Trevor’s never planned on getting married again before. His fiancée might have something to say about you spending all his money. She might just convince him to put the brakes on your lifestyle.”

This was something Eadie hadn’t considered. “He wouldn’t dare,” she said, getting mad just thinking about it. “He wouldn’t dare cut me off. I’ve put up with him for twenty-one years and that ought to count for something.”

Lavonne told them her plan to sell the house out from under Leonard.

“My God, you’re a genius,” Eadie said.

“Do you really think it’ll work?” Nita said.

“That plan’s got more holes than a banker’s heart,” Loretta said.

“It’s a long shot,” Lavonne agreed, “but it’s the only chance I’ve got. Everything else will take years and I can’t wait years. I’ve got a business I’m hoping to invest in.”

“I’ve made arrangements with a gallery in Atlanta to take some of my best pieces,” Eadie said. “I’ve kept the girls around long enough; it’s time for them to go out into the world. The gallery will sell them on commission, so eventually I’ll make some money, but probably not right away. I’ve been kicking around the idea of renting out some warehouse space downtown and maybe opening up a gallery myself. You know, to sell to the tourist trade.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Lavonne said. “I may be able to help you out there. I know of some space that should be opening up pretty soon that would make a great art gallery.” Lavonne went to the counter and poured herself another cup of coffee. She sat back down. “But how are you going to come up with the money to finance the gallery?”

“Simple,” Eadie said, having just thought of it. “I’ll sell off the antiques.”

“Oh Eadie, you can’t sell off his family pieces,” Nita said. “Some of that stuff has been in his family for generations.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about those old things. He’s always talking about how he wants to sell everything and make a clean start.”

No one said anything. Loretta got up and went to check on a load of laundry. Eadie scowled and looked at her hands. “Oh all right, I won’t sell everything. I’ll just sell some of it.”

“You could have an estate sale,” Loretta said, coming back into the kitchen. “You could have an estate sale the weekend they’re gone.”

Nita pursed her lips and nodded. “Virginia and Myra Redmon will be out of town that weekend, too. That just might work.”

“The problem with an estate sale is you have to advertise,” Eadie said. “Someone will read the advertisement and figure out who’s having the sale, and then it’ll be all over town, and before you know it, we’re screwed. I’ve got the name of a woman who comes in and buys everything in a house, the whole kit and caboodle, for one price, and then hauls it all away. I think she’s our best bet.”

“Will she give us a fair price?” Lavonne asked, making notes.

“Shit, no. But we may clear a few thousand each, and I mean, hell, it’s a start. I’ll probably sell the family silver to the history museum because they’ve been after us for years to sell, and since Trevor and I won’t ever have kids, and there’s no one to inherit it anyway, I might as well go on and sell the whole collection intact.” No one mentioned the obvious, which was that Trevor and his new wife might have kids. After a minute Eadie looked at Lavonne and said, “I could probably make enough selling the silver and the Jefferson letter and the Nathan Bedford Forrest medical kit to live on for a while.” The Boone family had a letter written by Thomas Jefferson to Trevor’s great-great-great-great-grandfather framed and hanging in Eadie’s dining room. She had a traveling medical kit used by Dr. Cincinnatus Boone, Nathan Bedford Forrest’s personal physician during the Mississippi Campaign, displayed in her living room. “I think you’ve got the best plan, Lavonne. You’re the one who stands to make the most.”