The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion (5 page)

As she finished up in the kitchen, she debated whether to put the sunflower seeds for the blue jays in the front yard or the back. If she put the sunflower seeds in the front, someone driving by might see her and want to stop and talk, and she didn’t have a second to spare. So she decided she would start at the back and run to the front. Her success depended on how long it would take the blue jays to finish the sunflower seeds before they discovered the bird seed in front and how fast she could run from one yard to the other.

But what shoes should she wear? She looked down and realized she shouldn’t try and run in her flip-flops; it was too dangerous. She went to her closet and found nothing suitable—practically every shoe she owned had a little heel.

She went down the hall to the twins’ bedroom closet and started rummaging through a box of their old shoes. She found a pair of worn-out pink sneakers with pom-poms. Unfortunately, they were two sizes too large, but they’d be better than trying to run in flip-flops and breaking an ankle.

She put them on and laced them up as tightly as she could and went out to her greenhouse and filled her two large ceramic polka-dotted bird seed containers, one with sunflower seeds and the other with the wild bird seed. She went out and placed the container with the wild bird seed on the side of the house, ready to be picked up as she ran by, headed to the front yard. She then went back to the greenhouse, picked up the container with the sunflower seeds, took a deep breath, and ran to the backyard, filling up the feeders as fast as she could.

After Sookie finished filling the feeders in the backyard, she dropped the container on the ground and ran to the side of the house and picked up the other polka-dotted seed container and was running toward the front yard when she stepped in a gopher hole and lost her left shoe. She couldn’t stop so she just went on without it.

And of course, the very same moment she hit the front yard, the new Methodist minister and his wife were driving by the house and saw Sookie, wearing one pink shoe with tassels, hopping around on one foot, throwing seeds from a large polka-dotted container at her feeders. They slowed down and, as a matter of courtesy, were going to stop and say hello, but thankfully for Sookie, decided against it and
quickly drove on. They were from Scotland and didn’t know if running around wearing one pink shoe with tassels while carrying a large polka-dotted container and throwing seeds was some kind of Southern bird-feeding ritual or not, but they were afraid to ask.

Sookie’s neighbor Netta Verp was sitting out on her side porch in her robe, having her morning coffee, when she suddenly saw Sookie flying around the yard like a bat out of hell, with her polka-dotted bird seed container, slinging seeds every which way, and she wondered what in the world she was doing. Netta had never seen anyone in such a hurry to feed their birds in her life.

After Sookie had filled all the front yard feeders, she ran back into the house and stood looking out the living room window, waiting to see if her smaller birds would come to feed. She waited, but none came. Where were they? There was not a bird to be seen anywhere. She then ran down the hall and looked out the kitchen window and saw the blue jays happily gobbling up all the sunflower seeds in back, while as usual, all of her smaller birds flittered around in the bushes below. Oh, no. Those little birds didn’t know what was waiting for them in the front yard. Oh, Lord. She hadn’t planned on this. Now she didn’t know what to do. She ran out on the back porch and started waving her arms and yelling at the top of her lungs, “Go to the front, little birds—go around to the front! Hurry up, little birds!” But how do you communicate with birds? It was so frustrating. Now not only were her little birds not getting anything to eat; all those sunflower seeds seemed to have attracted every blue jay in the entire area, and more were flying in by the minute.

Netta observed her neighbor out on her back porch, jumping up and down and waving her arms around like a crazy person, and she didn’t know what to think. It was certainly peculiar behavior. She just hoped poor Sookie hadn’t flipped overnight, but with the Simmons family you never knew.

After a moment, Sookie ran back to the living room window to see if, by chance, any little birds were there, but now a whole new gang of big blue jays were in the front yard, eating all the bird seed. It was so frustrating. The only other thing she could think of to do was to get Carter’s old baseball bat and run out and try to scare the blue jays off. But she didn’t want to get reported to the humane society for cruelty
to animals, especially since she was on the board. Oh, God, the phone was still ringing off the hook. Whoever it was must have her on some computer redial. Between the blue jays and the phone, she was getting a headache, so she went in and picked it up.

“Hello!”

The person on the other end seemed surprised that someone had finally answered and said, “Oh, hello! Ahh … to whom am I speaking, please?”

“Well, whom were you trying to reach?” asked Sookie, as she saw three more blue jays swoop in.

“I’m trying to locate a Mrs. Earle Poole, Jr.”

“Yes, this is she.” As soon as she said it, she knew she had made a mistake. She should have pretended she was the maid and said Mrs. Poole wasn’t home. She was stuck now. As she stood watching more and more blue jays show up at the little birds’ feeder, she suddenly remembered that old BB gun of Carter’s in the closet and wondered if she could fire off just a few warning shots from the porch without being seen.

The man on the phone was asking another question. “Are you the former Sarah Jane Krackenberry?”

“Yes, I was … am.” Sookie realized that the idea that she would even think about shooting a gun at a helpless bird was not her normal way of thinking, but those blue jays made her so mad—the way they pushed the smaller ones around.

“Was your mother’s maiden name Simmons, middle name Marion, first name Lenore?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Did your family live in Brownsville, Texas, from the years 1942 to 1945?”

“Yes, uh-huh.”

“Is the current mailing address for Mrs. Lenore Simmons Krackenberry 526 Bay Street, Point Clear, Alabama?”

“Yes, all her mail and bills are sent to me.” Sookie was still thinking whether or not she should get Carter’s old BB gun and try and scare the blue jays away, but decided not to. If she were to accidentally hit one, she would never be able to forgive herself.

“Is your zip code 36564?”

Peek-a-Boo walked over and rubbed up against her leg. Then it suddenly occurred to her: Maybe Peek-a-Boo would like a big fat blue jay for breakfast. She could let her out. But on the other hand, if Peek-a-Boo ran away and anything happened to her, Ce Ce would have a fit.

“Ma’am? Are you still there?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what was it?”

“Is your current zip code 36564?”

“Uh, yes. That’s correct. You have to forgive me. I’m a little distracted. I’m having a little bird problem at the moment.” Sookie sat down, held the phone against her ear, and retied her pink sneaker. She felt a dull pain start up in her right ankle. Oh, no. She knew as soon as she had stepped in that gopher hole, she had twisted something. She just hoped it wasn’t sprained. She needed to put ice on it right away, before it could swell up, and she also had to get the man off the phone, but in a nice way. “Sir, I’m so sorry, but I think I’ve sprained my ankle, so I’m going to have to hang up now.”

“I see … uh … Mrs. Poole, one more thing before you go. Will you be home tomorrow between ten
A
.
M
. and twelve
P
.
M
.?”

“Pardon me?”

“Will you be at this address tomorrow?”

“Yes, I guess so. I might go to the travel agency later. Why?”

“We are sending a letter to Mrs. Lenore Simmons Krackenberry—and we need to know if you will be home to sign for it.”

It suddenly occurred to Sookie that this was certainly a weird call. Why did this man want to know where she would be tomorrow and at what time? She began to get a little suspicious and wondered if he might be some sex pervert or a burglar. So she quickly said, “Yes, I will be home, and so will my husband, the police chief. May I ask where you are calling from?”

“I’m calling from Texas, ma’am.”

“Texas? Where in Texas?”

“I’m in the Austin area.”

“Austin, Texas?”

“Yes, ma’am. And Mrs. Poole, the letter should arrive at your address tomorrow, sometime between ten and twelve.”

Now Sookie really was baffled. Why would anybody in Texas be
sending Lenore a letter? “Is this from the Gem Shopping Network? Are they in Texas? Has she ordered more scatter pins? I hope not. She has over a hundred now.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Is it from Barbara Bush? My mother thinks they have a lot in common, and she’s always writing the poor woman, asking her to come down for a visit. I said, ‘Mother, Barbara Bush is far too busy to come all the way down here, just to go to lunch with you.’ ”

“No, ma’am, it’s not from Mrs. Bush.”

“Oh … well, is it a telephone bill? Has she called somebody and reversed the charges again? If so, I apologize in advance. We have a wonderful nurse watching her, but she must have turned her back for five minutes. Anyway, I’m so sorry, and tell whoever she’s called that we will be happy to pay for it.”

There was a pause, and then the man said, “Mrs. Poole, we have a registered letter we are sending out overnight, and I just need to confirm that someone will be home tomorrow who is authorized to sign for it.”

Sookie’s heart stopped. A
registered
letter! Oh, no. That always meant something legal. Sookie winced as she asked the dreaded question. “Sir, when you use the term, ‘we,’ are you by chance a law firm?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Poole, but I’m not at liberty to discuss it over the phone.”

Oh, God, it must be something serious, if the man can’t even discuss it over the phone. “Listen … I’m so sorry. What is your name?”

“Harold, ma’am.”

“Listen, Harold, is it about some editorial she’s written? She watches the news and gets herself all riled up, and she’s always spouting off about something. But believe me, if my mother has made any threats against the government or said anything stupid, I can assure you that she’s a perfectly harmless old lady. Well, harmless as far as not being armed or anything. She’s just not quite right, if you know what I mean. It’s a family trait. You just have to know the Simmonses. They are all a little off. She has a brother and sister that are really off. You have no idea how much trouble the woman has caused. She’s almost eighty-nine years old, and she won’t go to assisted living, and she refuses
to let us put in a walk-in tub for her, and I worry to death about her falling and breaking a hip.” She sighed. “I’m sorry to be so upset. It’s just that my poor husband and I have just gone through four weddings, and my little birds won’t go around to the front yard. I’m just being overrun by blue jays, and another lawsuit is just not what I need right now. My nerves are all a jangle as it is. Can’t you tell me what it’s about?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not authorized to give out any information over the phone.”

“Oh, please, Harold, don’t drag this out. You don’t know me, but I really could go off the deep end at any moment. It’s the Simmons family curse. It hit Uncle Baby overnight. One day, president of a bank, and the next, off weaving baskets over at Pleasant Hill. And Aunt Lily was perfectly fine and then for no reason, she shot at the paperboy. Thank God, she didn’t hit him or she could be sitting in jail right now, instead of where she is.”

“As I said, Mrs. Poole, you will be receiving the letter in the morning.”

“Oh, Harold, can’t you just open it up and read it to me now? I don’t need to know all the details, just how much she’s being sued for. We just went through our entire retirement account for a down payment for a house for our daughter Le Le and her husband. He’s perfectly nice, but he plays the zither for a living.”

“Oh …”

“Yes … that’s what we said. But she loves him, so what can you do? Anyhow, we are mortgaged up to the hilt. Can’t you at least tell me how much my mother is being sued for, so I can be prepared? I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have the authority to do that. I was instructed to locate the current mailing address and send it on, that’s all. This is not even my department. I’m just filling in.”

“Oh, I see. Well, couldn’t you just take one quick little peek and tell me if it’s over a hundred thousand dollars?”

Then she heard his muffled voice, obviously whispering behind his hand, “Mrs. Poole, the wife and I just married off our daughter, so I know what you’ve been through. Don’t worry, she’s not getting sued.”

“No? Oh, thank God! Oh, bless you, Harold. I don’t know why, but with Mother, I always assume it’s going to be bad news, but then again, it could be good news, right?”

Harold didn’t say anything, so Sookie’s mood suddenly brightened. “Hey, wait a minute. Did she win a contest or something? Are you from Publishers Clearing House? Should I have her over here at the house in the morning, dressed and made-up or anything? I need to know, because she’ll want to have her hair done. Will there be photographs? Or news people?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh … well … can you give me just a little hint of what to expect?”

There was a long silence on the other end, then Harold said, “Mrs. Poole, all I can say is … you are not who you think you are,” and then he abruptly hung up.

Sookie sat there with his last words ringing in her ear, and now there was someone banging away on her back door. As Sookie stood up, her ankle throbbed even worse than before, but she hobbled down the hall and opened the door, and there stood Netta in her robe, who looked at her strangely. “Honey, are you all right? I saw you running around the yard like you were in some kind of distress. I tried to call you, but your line was busy. You left one of your shoes out in the yard.” Sookie took the shoe and said, “Oh, thank you, Netta.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Netta. I was just trying something new with feeding the birds, and this man just called about some registered letter for Lenore and I think I’ve sprained my ankle. Come on in.”