The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [20]
Now she was wearing a pair of baggy, ripped-up shorts and a tank top with Gumby on it, her face puffy from an earlier crying jag. She’d scrunched her hair up in a bunch of tiny ponytails to keep it off her face and neck, which made her look like a crazy person. She’d tendered this invitation to Nance as a concerned parent, but she did not project either competence or hospitality. What Nance didn’t know was that she’d actually dressed up for her. She’d put on a bra!
Vic knew how he looked to Nance—a run-of-the-mill middle-aged white guy, curly hair in need of a trim, an eager-to-please smile meant to cover up his desire to get the hell out of there.
Nance was glancing around the room like she was looking for something or someone. She turned to Caroline. “Your yard is so beautiful. Who does it?”
“We do,” Vic said.
Caroline gave him a cold smile, because, it was true, she’d been doing the yard work of late, but it was because he was either at work or at soccer with Suzi.
Nance smiled eagerly. “I believe I’ve seen your father out there from time to time. I’d love to talk to him about Memphis. I lived there for years.”
“Oh,” Caroline said.
“Is he here?”
“He’s napping,” Caroline said.
“Maybe another time?”
“Sure.”
Vic sighed. Why were they talking about Wilson and Memphis instead of Italy and Suzi?
“This is just the best cake, Caroline!” Nance said, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.
Vic waited for Caroline to correct Nance and give Suzi credit, but she didn’t.
“I made it,” Suzi said. “For Mom’s birthday.”
“All by herself,” Vic added.
“Well, it is scrumptious!” Nance said, then went on nervously. “It’s so nice to meet more neighbors. I feel so blessed. I just happened to buy a house across from the youth minister at the Genesis Church. What church do ya’ll go to?”
“We don’t,” Caroline said.
“Not very often,” Vic added, trying to smooth over his wife’s bluntness.
“I go with my friend Mykaila,” Suzi said. “Mykaila’s African American, but they go to a white church.”
“I swan,” said Nance.
Everybody went back to eating.
A churchgoing Southern lady who used old-timey expressions like I swan and took vacations in Italy. She was too good to be true, like some innocuous creature in a mystery novel who actually turned out to be a ruthless criminal.
“That Reverend Coffey’s daughter’s kind of strange,” Nance continued. “I came home from Publix yesterday and found her in my carport, just sitting there!”
“Did you ask her what she was doing?” Suzi asked.
“She wanted to know could she wash my car for eight dollars. I found that peculiar. Why eight dollars?”
“I know her,” Suzi said. “Rusty. She must need the money for drugs.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Nance said, waving her hand dismissively. “I live next door to a dope fiend.”
“Let’s talk about Italy!” Suzi announced, setting down her cake plate on the coffee table.
“Yes, let’s do,” Vic said, setting his plate down, too.
“Italy?” Nance said.
“You know,” Suzi said, speaking to Nance like she was a child. “Our trip to Tuscany. How about early August? After soccer camp and before school starts.”
“Sounds good,” said Nance, nodding vigorously. If she was surprised by Suzi’s insistence, she didn’t show it. “That would be the perfect time.”
“You really want to take Suzi?” Caroline asked. “May I ask why?”
Did she have to be so openly suspicious of the woman? “We wanted to make sure,” Vic said, “you know, that Suzi didn’t misread your invitation.”
“No, she did not!” Nance smiled at Suzi, who glanced down at the carpet, pleased. “One of my childhood friends has a villa just outside Lucca,” Nance said. “Her better half recently died and she’s been after me to come visit and I’ve been itching to go, but I need this young thing to come along