Contemporary Women's Fiction: Agnes Hopper Shakes Up Sweetbriar (Humorous Women's Fiction) (31 page)

“I’ve got to find Pearl. Betty Jo, you and Henry help me look.”

“Me too,” Smiley said.

I gave each person a place to search. “We’ll meet in the garden by the fountain in ten minutes. Hopefully, she isn’t wandering around somewhere lost and scared. If we don’t find her soon, I’m calling the sheriff.”

We all hurried off in different directions. Everyone—even nurse Taylor—joined in the search for Pearl. When we met in the garden, no one had found her. Then I heard a whimper, like a small, frightened child. The sound was coming from the footpath over on the vacant lot next door. I ran through the weeds and nearly stumbled over her huddled in the middle of the path.

“She’s here! She’s here!” I hollered.

William and Jack came running and managed to get Pearl back to the house. Our nurse checked her out. She didn’t seem to have any injuries, but she was totally confused and couldn’t tell us what she was doing or where she was headed. Betty Jo brought her some hot tea while I kept reassuring her that Miss Johnson would not be back—ever.

My dear, forever friend stared at me with wide eyes and a child-like trust. Right then I knew I could never leave her. Pearl couldn’t function out in the world, not now and maybe not ever. My heart yearned for the little yellow house with an almost-perfect yard for Miss Margaret, but now I realized it was more necessary for me to take care of Pearl than to move into that house and think about nobody but myself.

I took Pearl’s hand in mine and convinced her to join me on the porch. As we walked, I told her all I had been thinking, not realizing Betty Jo, Henry, and Smiley were listening. As soon as Pearl was settled, miracles of all miracles, Ida Mae floated over in her flimsy nightgown, sat down beside Pearl, and took her hand. Those two ladies—who had probably seen the most abuse—were now consoling each other.

“Don’t that beat all,” Henry said.

Juanita joined our little gathering. “Miss Agnes, I have a question.”

Betty Jo reached over and took Frankie, then settled into a rocker. She entertained him by singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

“Now
that
beats all,” I said to Henry. He agreed.

Juanita put her arm around my shoulder. “When you found out
Alice’s money was gone, you used your own, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mind. It was way more fun than garage sales. Besides, I’ll bet I get it back. Our sheriff might be slow sometimes to see the light, but he’s an honest man.”

“Don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you enough, Miss Agnes, me and little Frankie.” Juanita gave me a squeeze and then went to sit with Pearl and Ida Mae as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

My heart did a flip as I looked around at the group gathered on the porch of this big lavender house. In only a week, these people had become my friends—my family—and they needed me. Strange thing was … I needed them too. Charlie was surely smiling down in approval. After all, he said I would make a passel of new friends and, even though I hated to admit it, he was right—as usual.

My mind whirled as I thought about everything that had happened in the past few days. There were a lot of unanswered questions. What would happen to Miss Johnson and the others she was in cahoots with? Why had Alice insisted we contact a certain lawyer when she passed? And what would happen to poor Ida Mae with her daughter in jail?

The future was uncertain for all of us, but maybe that’s how life is supposed to be.

Smiley interrupted my thoughts when he took my hand and squeezed it. When he turned his face toward mine, those big brown eyes that could melt a rock looked deep into mine … and I felt like I had come home.

“Let’s go see if we can lend Shirl a hand,” I said. “Maybe shuck some corn.”

And so we did.

Three days later, Alice’s funeral was as lovely and hope-filled as a spring day. Afterwards, back in the dining room, Smiley joined me by the punch bowl filled with foamy lime sherbet. He was busy working on his second piece of chocolate cake, but he sat it down long enough to hand me a framed poem. “She wanted you to have it,” he said.

I held it close and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Perfect for the shelf by my door.”

“Her service was a comfort,” he said. “Almost like her spirit was right there with us don’tcha know.”

I nodded and patted his shoulder. “She planned every detail so, in fact, she was.”

Pearl joined us, sporting more than her usual jewelry. She wore one of Alice’s hats, the sequined red satin with one red plume on the side.

“That hat looks stunning on you,” I said.

She visibly relaxed and all traces of worry vanished from her face. I offered her a cup of punch. When she took it from me, our fingers touched, but she didn’t flinch or pull away like I expected. Encouraged, I said, “You know, there’s a new hobby shop up town, next door to Henry’s Western Auto. Would you like to go? They’re sure to have all kinds of art supplies.”

For a moment Pearl looked confused, and I held my breath. When she answered, my heart did a little jig.

“Okay, Pumpkin Head, let’s do it.”

The smile that stretched across her face made her look so much like my old high school friend that my heart threatened to burst. This time I couldn’t contain myself. I reached out and hugged her. She stiffened for a few seconds, then returned my hug with a little giggle. Things were looking up. In my excitement, and not wanting to lose the momentum, I said, “Let’s put on some comfy shoes and go shopping. You go on. I’ll
knock on your door in fifteen minutes.”

Later that afternoon, after a most wonderful trip into town with my best friend, the peace I had been enjoying shattered into a thousand pieces. Like Chicken Little I wanted to shout,
The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

Two men arrived in shiny polyester suits. William said they looked like FBI to him, but they said they came from corporate headquarters. They shook hands with the sheriff, asked for a pitcher of water, and opened leather briefcases. They shuffled papers and declared Miss Johnson innocent. That was totally unexpected. They were either blind or as crooked as she was.

I didn’t see their next declaration coming either. The tall, skinny one proposed dropping Sweetbriar Manor entirely from their holdings of “five outstanding retirement homes across the south”
—
his words, not mine. After that, all I heard was static.

When they left with a nod and a bow, the sheriff followed close behind. His face looked wrinkled with worry. Our dining table group, plus William, huddled together. Pearl had not joined us, and this time I was glad she was absent.

“What did they mean?” I asked. “Sell The Manor? Whatever will we do?”

The next day, more rumors flew like scattered thunderstorms. Word had it that Miss Johnson was ready to testify against someone to save her own skin. Not the Snoddy brothers, and not the owners of Sweetbriar Manor, but some big shot in the banking business. At least she had asked the sheriff to make sure her mother was looked after until she could return.

Return?
Surely the judge wouldn’t grant her a pardon.

Sheriff Cawood appointed Juanita as Ida Mae’s temporary caregiver. “I’m not sure how she’ll get paid until this messy case is settled. Maybe you folks could start a fundraiser of some sort. At least she can live here rent free until other arrangements can be made.”

With that suggestion, Shirl sprang into action and put a quart jar in the beauty shop. Our free manicures would now require a donation of at least a dollar. Lil surprised me and put in ten.

After that, everyone decided to work as a team. We put jars everywhere. Pearl would paint flowers on tiny canvases. I planned to knit bookmarks. Lollipop agreed to part with some of his suckers—at least a dozen—if he could sell them one at a time. Lil was willing to play
the piano whenever anyone asked—if the price was right. I wondered how long this would work since nearly every resident at Sweetbriar Manor lived on a fixed income.

Henry suggested we close Main Street and have a pig race with Miss Margaret as the mascot. We talked the race to death, but finally gave up on that idea.

It was Betty Jo who saved the day. “Let’s throw an open house,” she said while she and I helped Shirl dry the breakfast dishes. We stopped our drying and looked at each other.

Shirl spoke first. “Yes, it’s perfect timing. Under new management. How about strawberry cake? And we’ll have to have something chocolate and …”

“Let’s finish up here and work on the menu and the date,” I said.

Shirl clattered her handful of silverware onto the counter. “Shoot. Why wait? I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. Let’s get started.”

Betty Jo rushed off to call her women’s club fundraising chairman. “Mildred will get the whole club involved. She’s gifted that way.”

My mind was in a whirl, but a happy one. This was sure to be a win-win situation. The people of and around Sweetbriar would see that Sweetbriar Manor was not a place for crazy old people, and we could sell our paintings, our bookmarks, our … no telling what that we didn’t know about yet, and Francesca could play the piano through it all—with a tip jar nearby, of course.

By the next morning we had the event planned and even had an announcement written for the Timely News. By noon we got word that Sweetbriar Manor would remain open and a new director was on his way. The sheriff assured us the man came highly recommended, but he would keep his eyes open—just in case.

Two days later, I walked down to the little yellow house and actually did sign a six-month lease with option to buy. I had put some money aside over the years for me and Charlie to go on one of those cruises, but he never felt like he could leave his work at our farm. I knew he would’ve said this was a better use for that money, by far.

No, I wouldn’t be moving. Sweetbriar Manor was now my home. And Pearl, my best friend at Southern High, was my next-door neighbor. And if the owners ever decided to sell this splendid retirement home, we’d find us a place where we could both go, along with Smiley and Lil and William and, yes, even Lollipop.

Jack borrowed Mr. Case’s produce truck and moved Juanita’s few
belongings into my new house. I planned to buy it outright as soon as the farm sold. After much discussion with Charlie, I had called a Realtor and someone was going out to take pictures of the property and put it on the Internet.

We had furnished the yellow house on Sweeten Creek Lane nicely with things Betty Jo couldn’t fit into her new place, and Juanita was beside herself with happiness. The only thing that worried her was not being able to meet the rental payments. “Maybe I can get a second job,” she said. “Whatever it takes to live here, I’ll find a way.”

“I know you will,” I said. “But don’t be too hasty. If the government can adjust rents to make a place more affordable, why can’t I? We’ll take a look at your income and decide what rent would be reasonable for you. Besides, this house is an investment. Best decision I’ve made in years.”

That afternoon, my daughter looked the picture of contentment. I couldn’t ever remember seeing her like this before as she played the doting grandmother. I guess that made me the great grandmother.

Smiley rested on Juanita’s front porch glider, and I plopped down beside him. This had been a long and exciting day. I turned to my friend and planted a kiss on his cheek.

He looked at me and grinned. “What on earth?”

“Don’t you see? Everything’s going to be all right.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because everyone is pulling for each other and working together—just like a family should.”