“Clarence, if you were any more virile, we’d have to lock you up,” Tante Lulu said.
Understanding dawned slowly for Charmaine, who realized that this was all about the dude ranch and hunk cowboy proposal she’d made to Rusty. He must have told them about it. These two nitwits must be trying to turn themselves into hunks to hold on to their jobs. Geesh!
Later that morning, Charmaine and Tante Lulu stood on the front porch, waiting for Clarence to come back and take Tante Lulu to the grocery store. She had a daunting list in hand, which would require his pickup truck to haul it back, her T-bird being too small to contain it all.
Charmaine was going to stay behind with her own list of duties, which the old lady had prepared for her:
1) Iron four tablecloths.
2) Make up with Rusty.
3) Take pies out of oven when timer goes off. Put in new pies.
4) Make up with Rusty.
5) Cut up dry bread for stuffing.
6) Make up with Rusty.
7) Bring three jars of canned peaches up from cellar.
8) Make up with Rusty.
9) Check for snakes.
10) Make up with Rusty.
11) Scrub out kettles for deep-frying turkeys.
12) Make up with Rusty.
13) Take peach bubble bath, paint finger- and toenails peach color, and wear an I-can-make-yer-eyes-bug-out outfit.
Charmaine had to laugh inside. I wonder if Auntie wants me to make up with Rusty.
Even then, Tante Lulu had some last-minute instructions, “Doan fergit to take some beefsteaks out of the freezer to thaw. Iffen we caint cook up a side of beef to go with the turkeys, we kin at least bar-b-cue some steaks. And mushrooms… I gotta remember to buy fresh mushrooms. Caint have steak without mushrooms.”
“Everything’s going to work out, Auntie. Stop worrying.” She squeezed the old lady’s shoulder.
“Well, of course, it’ll all work out. Things allus does. And that goes fer you, too, girlie. God has a plan fer you, and fer a certainty Rusty plays a part. I guar-an-tee. Jist doan fret so.”
“In other words, let things happen?”
“Heck, no! God helps those what helps themselves. Dint I lay out that belly dance outfit fer you?”
Speaking of outfits, Tante Lulu was wearing her “Goin’ Shoppin'” outfit today. She still had the same red curls, which was unusual; Tante Lulu usually liked to change styles or colors every day, but she’d been extra busy this morning. As for clothing, she wore a senior-citizen adaptation of cargo pants and a fishing shirt, the common denominator being lots of pockets and loops for holding things, like a slim tablet with her lists, a pen, calculator, packet of tissues, reading glasses, sunglasses, recipes. In addition, she carried a purse the size of a bayou barge. On her feet were comfortable running shoes. Tante Lulu took her shopping seriously.
Charmaine’s heart expanded with love, just looking at the kooky old bird. She adored her, idiosyncracies and all.
Just then, they heard a motor approaching. But it wasn’t Clarence. A large, old-fashioned Winnebago being pulled by an ancient Chevy Impala with more rust spots than paint sputtered down the road.
Charmaine was the first one to recognize the latest arrival. Her eyes darted accusingly to Tante Lulu.
“Now, doan get riled up. I jist happened to give her a call yesterday and…” Tante Lulu, the traitor, shrugged.
It was her mother, Fleur Robicheaux, better known on the stripper circuit by the single name “Fleur.” And she wasn’t alone. She’d brought with her a man, presumably her latest companion. Her mother always had to have a man in her life.
As the two of them opened the creaking doors of the vehicle and climbed out, Charmaine and Tante Lulu both groaned.
Her mother was wearing a one-piece, leopard print leotard. It was sleeveless and low cut and covered only by a wide cinch belt. Matching leopard print hoop earrings the size of mason jar rings hung from her ears. She wore high-heeled leopard print sandals. Her bleached blond hair was piled atop her head and held together with a leopard print scrunchie. Her makeup was a work of art, if one admired plasterwork.