Standing in the Rainbow - Fannie Flagg [59]
He went to the pump outside the kitchen and stuck his head under and washed his face and hands and rinsed off his feet. After he put his shoes and socks back on he pulled a black Ace comb out of his pocket and ran it through his hair. He knocked on the door again. “Ma’am, here’s your pan back.”
She opened the screen door and saw a neat, nice, almost new-looking young man in a white shirt. “Come on in. Can I fix you a sandwich?”
He stepped in and took the iced tea. “No, ma’am, thank you but this is all I need. I’m fixing to go on a lunch date as soon as I get to town. She says we are going to go to something called a cafeteria.”
“Oh lucky you, my sisters Ida and Gerta tell me it’s quite the place. I haven’t been there yet but I’m going one of these days, whenever I can talk Will into dressing up. He won’t get dressed up unless it’s for a funeral, so I guess I’ll have to wait till somebody dies to get a meal there. Ida says they’ve got a pink pig running in a circle, so be sure and see that.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.” He handed her the empty glass and was about to leave when it occurred to him that as long as he was here it wouldn’t hurt if he fished around in his pocket for another card. “Mrs. Shimfissle, I’m thinking of running for a political office someday. I don’t know for what yet but let me give you my card.” He went through all his pockets but was unsuccessful. “I can’t find one . . . but anyway, if you ever see the name Hamm Sparks on a ballot, I sure would appreciate your vote. Can you remember that?”
“Your first name’s Ham? Like a Christmas ham? Like the meat ham?”
“Yes, ma’am, only it’s spelled with two m’s.”
She repeated it. “Hamm. . . . Well, it’s unusual but easier to remember than Billy or John, I’ll say that for it.”
“Yes, ma’am, it’s my mother’s family name. She was a Hamm before she married.”
“You don’t say. My mother was a Nuckle with an N before she married, and my daddy was a Knott with a K out of Pennsylvania. . . . They said the people that got invites to the Nuckle-Knott nuptials thought it was pretty funny.”
He laughed. “I guess so.”
She said, “It’s a good thing they didn’t have a boy and called him Nuckle. That would have made a name, wouldn’t it . . . Nuckle Knott. But then,” she mused, “we went to school with a boy with the first name of Lard, only it was spelled Laird but they called him Crisco all his life anyway. I don’t think he ever married, or leastways I never heard if he did. He used to sell buttons.”
Hamm opened the door to escape. He knew from past experience that these farm women were starved for company and would talk for hours to a total stranger. “Well, thanks for everything, Mrs. Shimfissle,” he said as he hurried out the door and down the back steps. She followed him and opened the door. “Hey, wait a minute—I forgot your last name.”
He turned around and called out, “Sparks, ma’am, Hamm Sparks.”
“Sparks? Like electrical sparks?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as he waved over his shoulder and ran for the car.
Aunt Elner Saves the Day
AFTER THE SALESMAN left Elner called her sister Gerta Nordstrom and told her she had just met a man named Hamm. Gerta laughed and said, “Next you’ll be telling me you met a woman named Egg.” There were three Knott sisters, Elner, Gerta, and the youngest, Norma’s mother, Ida. Despite the fact that everyone in town knew all three had been raised on a midwestern farm, sometime after she had married Herbert Jenkins, Ida suddenly started dropping little hints here and there that she was descended from a fine old southern family who had fallen on bad times. By 1948 she had alluded to her aristocratic forebears so often that she began to believe it. This delusion about her background had started nine years ago, after she had seen the movie Gone with the Wind a dozen times at the Elmwood Theater. She was convinced she recognized Tara and therefore must have