Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [102]
“Aunt Alice?” My tone of voice causes Alice’s spine to stiffen.
“Yes?”
“I know we’ve had our problems—”
“Nah, don’t dredge all that there up. It’s not nothin’ no more.”
“I wasn’t very nice.”
“You got a temper on ye, that’s all. You’re Eye-talian. They’s like ’at.” Her slur, instead of upsetting me, makes me smile. She’s right. Italians are like that.
“I’d like to help you out. Can I come over once in a while?”
I go to Buckles Supermarket and shop for Aunt Alice. I pick up easy things, like eggs and bread and cheese and cold cuts. Soup. Pasta. Pancakes. I pick up magazines and puzzle books. Nellie Goodloe is at the next register checking out.
“Hello, Ave Maria. How was your summer?”
“It was good.”
“I see Jack Mac’s mighty busy.”
“That’s for sure,” I say. “They have lots of work.”
“Did they finish that rec center up in Coeburn, by the by?”
Then the strangest thing happens. I feel surrounded. Maybe it’s because it’s Monday and folks go trading, but it’s also something else. I can’t put my finger on it. The Methodist Sewing Circle is ready to check out: Mrs. Shoop, Mrs. Quillen, Mrs. Grubb, Mrs. Zander, and Mrs. Messer, each has a shiny cart, and they’re lined up like train cars on a track. The smiles on their faces are so sweet, like they’re glad to see me. But why are they all listening?
“It was a right long month with you gone. It was about a month, wasn’t it?” Mrs Quillen asks.
“Yes ma’am.”
“That’s a long time to be gone from your husband,” Mrs. Shoop chimes in.
“He thought so,” I say with a smile.
“It-lee is mighty far. You know, if there was an emergency or something,” Mrs. Messer says in a sweet singsong voice, half chiding me.
“I think my husband can handle anything.”
“I’m sure he can,” Nellie chimes in. “And I’m sure he did.” She looks over her bifocals at the ladies.
“Well, it’s sure good to see y’all again.” I grab my groceries and get the hell out of there. As I drive back to the Cadet section, I realize why: the ladies wanted to see how A-vuh Marie survived her husband’s affair. They smelled blood and they came to check out the casualty. I expect they thought I might just throw myself on the checkout and stab myself repeatedly with the outdoor barbecue tongs they had on sale.
Alice is napping when I get there. I make up a tray of macaroni and cheese and boil up some broccoli. Before long, she joins me in the kitchen.
“Smells good.”
“You sit.” I help her to the table. She is so tiny, I can feel her ribs as I guide her to a chair. As soon as I put the plate of food in front of her, she eats. She gulps down the macaroni and cheese and mashes up the broccoli with her fork before eating it.
“Thank ye for all this.” Alice pats my hand.
“It’s my pleasure.” I give Alice a hug, something that I have never done. And I hold her for a good long time.
Fleeta has a lot on her plate. She won’t give up cashiering, but she won’t take the Soda Fountain over, either. So she’s doing both, and she’s worn out. She insists upon fixing Iva Lou, Pearl, and me grilled-cheese sandwiches. It’s closing time, so we let her.
“Guess who I went to visit?” I say.
“Law me. You weren’t up in Coeburn, were ye?”
“Fleeta. That is not nice!” Iva Lou admonishes her.
“I ain’t nice.”
“I think we should have a rule,” Pearl says. “No mention of Coeburn ever again.”
“How’d you hear about Karen Bell?” I ask Pearl.
“In Norton.”
“Who cares in Norton?”
“Whoever’s up there shopping from Big Stone Gap.”
“Lord a-mighty.” I sit back on the bar stool.
“I told you that this entire county is filled with vipers. And they’s got feet. ’cause everything that happens ’round here travels. So if you want to keep your husband’s cheatin’ under wraps, you got to kill him, kill her, then send them bodies north and let them Eye-talians take care of ’em.” Fleeta slides the golden-brown grilled-cheese sandwiches from her double-wide spatula onto our plates on the counter.
“What? No garnish?” Pearl teases.
“I went to see Alice Lambert.”
“Why would you bother with her?” Iva Lou asks.