“Ohhh, well . . . I’m not gonna tell her that. She’ll have a running fit.”
“Oh, don’t I know it.”
“Was it that old chow?”
“Yes, and the other one . . . that . . . whatever it is . . .”
“It’s a good thing you got them out.”
“I just hope they didn’t bring any fleas in, don’t you? If they did, I’m not saying where they came from, are you?”
“No. I am prepared to lie like a rug.”
After they got back from New York, Norma sat at the kitchen table and wrote out a list to give to Verbena and the fire department, instructing them what to do in case of fire. When Macky came home for lunch, she handed it to him.
“Would you take this down to the store and run off about twenty copies? Make sure they’re dark enough to read.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“It’s a list for us to give to Verbena to hand to the firemen so they will know what to look for.”
“What list?”
“In case we are out of town and there is a fire. I want to make sure they get everything that’s important out first, before it’s too late.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Norma, the house is not going to burn down.”
“Maybe not . . . but better safe than sorry. And you don’t know, what if lightning strikes it or something. I just think it’s better to be on the safe side and I need to go over this list with you, in case for some reason I’m not here and you are.”
Norma sat down at the table with Macky. “Okay. Now, the very first thing, number one: go and get everything out of the bottom right dresser drawer. I’ve got all the birth certificates, our photographs, our marriage license, wedding pictures, our yearbooks, things like that, all our paper goods that can’t be replaced.”
“Norma, I’m sure we could get a copy of our yearbook.”
“Maybe so, but how are you going to remember all the little cute things that everybody wrote? You won’t remember that . . . you can’t replace that. . . . And pictures of your family and mine, Linda’s baby pictures, you can’t replace those. Don’t forget what happened to Poor Tot when her mother set the house on fire. They lost everything, photos, birth certificates—she didn’t even have one picture of her family or anything. I don’t want that to happen to us. . . . That’s one thing I learned, you have to prioritize, be prepared for the worst.”
“Why don’t I just strap a fire extinguisher on your back so you can be ready at all times?”
“Oh, don’t be silly.”
“O.K., but Norma—on the off chance there is a fire—do you think the firemen are going to take time to read some list?”
Norma looked at Macky. “That’s a very good point. They should have a copy of this in advance, so they can be familiar with it and not have to waste time to refer to it.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Macky said. “Why don’t we have them come over and practice while we’re at it.”
“Do they do things like that?”
“Norma, you are getting nuttier by the day. Let me see it.”
Norma handed him the list.
“What’s in the maroon hanging bag?”
“Your good coat, my good coat, my good hat, shoes . . . things like that. We don’t want to wind up in rags, having to wear whatever we have on. Oh, and I put all the home movies in the bottom, you can’t replace those. My jewelry, whatever I don’t have on, my dancing storks, your Kennedy half-dollar, Linda’s bronzed baby shoes, you don’t want to lose those, do you? Can you think of anything I’ve missed?”
Macky ran down the list again. “I notice you didn’t put down anything in my den.”
“Well, what’s in there that’s worth anything, except a bunch of old dead fish on the wall? What would you want out of there anyway?”
“I have a few pictures . . . and a couple of books . . . and my baseball.”
“Well, I don’t think they’ll have time to go in there, so whenever we leave, you just be sure and get what you want saved and put everything in the box under the bed. Here, as a matter of fact, I’m just not going to take a chance with Linda’s twirling trophies. I’m going to bring them downstairs and pack them . . . the firemen may not have time to go all the way upstairs. Now is there anything else you can think of? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Remember, all the paper goods go first . . . letters, cards, newspaper clippings, our Wayne Newton photo, all our pictures, they’re all gonna go in the first batch. So if you have anything like that, stick it in.”
“Why do you want that stupid cuckoo clock on the list? It’s a piece of junk.”
“Well, it’s old. And it was a wedding present. Put something down you want then.”
Macky got up and walked around the house, looking for things. A few minutes later he came back with the baseball Bobby had given him signed by Marty Marion.
“Well, put it in the box under the bed then. I’m not going to waste their time having them look for some old baseball when too many other important things are at stake.” She added it to the list and then said, “You know—I wonder how big a safety-deposit box is and are they fireproof?”
“Why?”
“Well . . . I think we’d be a lot better off when we left town if we just took everything we could down to the bank and put it in a safety-deposit box. Then I won’t have to worry about human error. That way we would know for sure.”
“What if the bank burned down?”
Norma looked at him. “Macky . . . why would you say something like that to me? Why would you want to put something like that in my head when you know how serious this is?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Norma. I was just kidding—the bank is not going to burn down. Neither is our house.”
“All I’m trying to do is preserve our memories, protect our family history so that Linda and our grandchildren won’t wind up without anything to look at after we are gone, and you make a joke out of it.”
“Norma, I was kidding.”
“I don’t think you appreciate the things I try and do for this family. Children should have a sense of continuity, it’s very important.”
“Honey, first of all, we don’t have any grandchildren.”
“But we might someday.”
“Even if we do, we can always have new pictures made if anything happens.”
“I am aware of that, Macky—that’s not the point. The point is, they would only see pictures of us when we were older and not when we were young . . . that’s what I’m talking about. I want them to get to see a picture of me when I was young and still had a figure, not some old middle-aged woman.”
“Oh, Norma, you’re only thirty-five years old, just stop it. You are better-looking now than you ever were.” There was a pause. Macky saw his chance and he took it. “You look better today than the day I married you.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not. I was looking at you the other night, when you had on that pink thing . . . you know?”
“My nightgown?”
“Yeah. I said to myself just the other night, Norma gets better-looking every day.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You were a pretty girl but now you’re . . . a . . . sexy, mature woman. Just like a ripe juicy plum ready to pick off the tree . . . just right . . .”
“I’ve had that old pink thing for years.”
“Maybe so, but you look great in it.”
“It’s just an old nightgown I got over at Kmart.”
“Well, you don’t have a thing to worry about how you look now, that’s all I can say. You’re a good-looking old broad—and don’t you forget it.”
“It had a housecoat to match. I don’t know why I never wear it. I don’t even know if I still have it—I might have thrown it out or given it away by now.”
After Macky left the house, Norma went into the bedroom and took out her pink Kmart nightgown and held it up to her and looked at herself in the mirror. She turned
to the left and then to the right and smiled.
Ten minutes later the phone at the store rang. Macky picked up. “Warren’s Hardware.”
“Macky, let me ask you something, and tell me the truth.”
“What?”
“You don’t discuss me with other men, do you?”
“What?”
“You don’t discuss what I look like in my nightgown with other men, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Because I would be horrified if you did—”
“Honey, I promise I don’t discuss what you look like in anything with anybody, you know that.”
“I would just die if I thought while I was talking to some man he was trying to imagine what I looked like in my nightgown.”
“Norma, do you think I would take the chance of driving all the men in this town wild? I know better than that.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean, oh, you know . . . I’d just feel funny if I thought somebody was looking at me funny.”
“No. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Good. I feel better. Guess what? I found that housecoat. I had put it up on the top shelf in that red box with those extra pillowcases we don’t use, but guess what else?”
“What?”
“I can’t wear it.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t match anymore. It’s a much darker pink than my nightgown, so it’s not a matched set. I’m thinking about running out there and seeing if they still carry the same thing and that way I could just buy the gown if they would let me, they might not, but if they won’t . . . I thought that maybe if I ran it through the washing machine every time I did a load, it would fade sooner or later. What do you think . . . should I do it?”
“Do what?”
“See if I can get a new nightgown. I thought since you like the way it looks on me, I should try and get a new one. If they still carry the same line; they keep changing things, I wish they wouldn’t . . . don’t you?”
“What?”
“Keep changing things. When you buy something you like, it’s terrible to go there and they don’t sell it anymore. That’s something you should remember in your business. Don’t discontinue things or change the make or brand.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll remember that.”
“Macky, you’re not going to be mad at me for going to Kmart, are you?”
“No.”
“I’m not buying hardware. I might not be buying anything. If they have it I’ll just get this one thing and then that’s it, O.K.?”
“All right . . .”
“I’ll take Aunt Elner with me . . . but we will just look, O.K.?”
“O.K.”
“You won’t think I’m a traitor, will you?”
“No, you go on and see about your nightgown.”
“Macky, do you really still find me attractive after all these years or are you just kidding?”
“Do you want me to close the store and come home right now and prove it?”
“Macky Warren! You better stop that nasty talk. What if a customer should hear you?”
Macky laughed heartily, and Norma hung up the phone and smiled.
Maybe while she was there, she would see if it came in any other colors.
Near Miss
IN ALL THE TIME Vita and Hamm had been together there had been only one conversation that came close to being an argument. Early on, when the affair first started, Hamm went through a period where he talked about getting a divorce but she had quickly nipped that idea in the bud. “Absolutely not. You are not going to ruin your political future over me. Besides, I don’t want to get married. I’m a grown woman and I want exactly what I’ve got. If this is some sort of guilt over me, forget it. You might as well know right now, I don’t want children. I have no interest whatsoever in being a mother or a stepmother.”
“But Vita,” he said, “I do feel bad.”
She took his face in her hands. “Darling, I know how you feel about me. You don’t need to wreck your life to prove it. What you do at home is your business but what we have together is just between us. We are not hurting anyone. It’s perfect the way it is.”
Of course, Vita did not know it as yet but her affair with Hamm was hurting someone in ways that at this point were subtle.
Outwardly, to Betty Raye, Hamm seemed the same as he always was. He had always been on the move and never at home and when he was she seldom got to see him alone. She did not know it, but being with Vita had changed him and the way he looked at the world and Betty Raye. He still loved her—but differently from before. No matter what he might say, Hamm was caught up in the whirl of Vita’s big-money and big-words crowd, still a little amazed and flattered to be suddenly socializing at black-tie affairs with people who would barely have spoken to him before. He seldom took Betty Raye along. First of all was her famous dislike of parties and social functions and second of all, she simply would not have fit in. The few places he did take her were for political purposes only and when they arrived he would immediately disappear into a circle of people dying to meet him. She usually wound up over in a corner, talking to one or two women who felt sorry for her or were curious about her, and then leave as soon as she could slip out and go home.
She tried to stay in touch with Hamm as much as she could, to be there when he needed her, but he never seemed to need her for anything. Over time Betty Raye felt herself slowly beginning to fade away, like a light starting to dim. She began to live in a world where she felt invisible.
Even the boys were slipping away. They were both getting to be much more like their father, aggressive and rowdy, and spent much of their time outside playing ball with the guards around the mansion. She did not know why but she began to feel like a stranger living in a house where everyone knew a secret but her.
Which was pretty much the truth. From the beginning, the inside circle knew about Hamm and Vita. Hamm had made it perfectly clear in a meeting with his staff right from the start.
“If Vita asks you for anything or needs anything, I want you to see that she has it, you understand? And if you want my opinion on an issue, ask Vita and she’ll let you know.”
Ralph and Lester, the two state troopers who usually picked her up, got the picture without having to be told. When they drove her somewhere to meet him they tipped their hats and called her Mrs. Green. There were no jokes, no sneers or attempts at familiarity. They knew who she was and what she was to the governor and it was not up to them to approve or disapprove. Vita did not complain or explain; she just was. The entire staff understood there were unspoken orders to make sure that Vita and the official first lady were never at the same function at the same time. And if, God forbid, for some reason they were to be at the same place, that they were never to be in the same room.
But accidents do happen. Peter Wheeler and his wife, Carole, were hosting a party at their home to celebrate the opening of the brand-new art museum in Kansas City. Many prominent artists from all over the world were flying in for the occasion and Cecil, ever vigilant about protocol, felt that if the first lady did not at least put in an appearance it would not look good. “Darling,” he said, “just come for thirty minutes. Say hello, have your picture made, and I promise you can slip out anytime after that and one of the troopers will drive you home.”
Betty Raye looked stricken. “Oh, Cecil, do I have to?”
“It would mean so much to the state if you would, and I know Hamm thinks you should be there with him to welcome everyone. This is no ordinary party. We don’t want to disappoint him, do we?”
“No, I guess not,” she said.
It was, in fact, a star-studded affair with over five hundred people mingling in every room of the magnificent Wheeler home. Betty Raye came in wearing the same beige cocktail dress she always wore, and as always, she felt like a piece of old vanilla fudge compared to the rest of the women in their vivid and colorful clothes and jewels. But true to her word, she posed for pictures and
stood in the receiving line. She smiled and shook hands with each visitor and repeated what Cecil had told her to say, like a mynah bird. “Welcome to our state, we are so honored to have you.” Finally, after about forty-five minutes, she made eye contact with Cecil. After she said her good-byes to the host and hostess, Cecil walked her out to the car and she was on her way home, early as usual, relieved as usual.
About ten minutes into the trip home Betty Raye took her earrings off and reached for her purse. But it was not there. She realized she must have left it at the party, in the upstairs powder room.
She would not have returned to the Wheelers’ but her reading glasses were in the purse also and she needed them. The young state trooper who was filling in for Ralph Childress that night turned around and drove her back to the party. She slipped in and went upstairs and got her purse. As she was coming down the stairs, trying her best to be inconspicuous, she heard a woman’s laugh that was so infectious she had to look and see where it was coming from. The woman, who had just joined the party, standing in the middle of a large crowd of men, laughed again and was clearly enjoying a story that was being told. Betty Raye could not help but stop and stare for a moment until Martha Ross, a woman she had met earlier, walked up and said in a loud voice, “Why, Mrs. Sparks, we all thought you had left!”
Betty Raye whispered and tried to head for the door, hoping not to be noticed by anyone else. “I did but I had to come back; I forgot my purse.”
Martha followed her. “Oh, don’t you just hate when you do that, I do it all the time.” When Betty Raye reached the door, curiosity got the best of her and she said, “Mrs. Ross, who is that pretty lady over there?”
Mrs. Ross looked. “Why, that’s Vita Green. Don’t you know Vita?”
Betty Raye shook her head and Mrs. Ross looked at her in surprise. “She practically runs your husband’s arts program. I can’t believe you don’t know Vita.” She proceeded to grab Betty Raye by the arm and pull her across the foyer, calling out in an excited voice, “Vita! Look who I have here. . . . I can’t believe you haven’t met Mrs. Sparks yet.”