Page 41 of Heart of Dixie
Although . . . I pulled out a shocking black lace dress that my straightlaced friend would have to molt at the end of her evening, and barely covered the goods. “Hey, Beth, bend over in this and every biddy with a wagging tongue will know you’re not wearing panties.” I demonstrated and her face flooded to the color of my tattered dress, which now lay at the top of a discard pile. Gripping the neck of the wine bottle, she scrambled to her feet and snatched the hanger from my hand.
“Put that back! It’s my secret weapon.” She spun it on the hanger to reveal the barely-there straps and plunging back, then clasped it against her and shimmied everything from her shoulders to her toes. The dress screamedfuck me, no foreplay required. “One day I’ll find the nerve to wear this dress and the man of my dreams will fall in lust with me.”
I gaped. She was serious. “You don’t need a hooker dress, or almost dress, to get up close and personal with a guy’s junk, but I admit I like your plan.” I reached for the hanger but she drew it back. “I think I need to inspect the arsenal again. You know, quality control.” She shoved the dress to the back of the closet. I reached for it yet again—what woman didn’t admire pure seduction?—but she slapped my hand away and pulled out a slinky purple dress that probably hit her mid-calf. It had a square neckline and cap sleeves—cute, but nobody would ever mistake it for seductive. “Here, try this.”
I scrunched my face into a scowl and stripped off my blouse that was apparently too prissy anyway. “Oh, great! I thought my charity days were long behind me.”
She gave my bra strap a snap, which fit right in with the twelve-year-old theme of this sleepover. “Shut up before I hand you used underwear, too.”
As if I’d be caught dead wearing her granny panties. By the time I had my bra adjusted to allow for the crisscrossing straps at the back of the dress, and dealt with a text from Drew and another call from Olivia, who knew no boundaries at all, Beth had her closet back to rights and was chattering about spending the following morning out in her Sunfish. And there was no way I’d be squeezing into Beth’s pretty violet dress. Her heart was always in the right place, but who could borrow clothes from a best friend who was two sizes smaller? I would manage just fine with one of my suits.
“A nice, quiet day sailing with no cell service and no other human contact sounds like the perfect way to spend my last day in town.” It should, anyway. Yet even as I spoke, the words twisted inside me and made me question my decision. Maybe spending my last day with Beth wasn’t what I reallywanted. Maybe I should call Deke and relive these last few days trying out a few more horizontal surfaces. In his house . . . at the lakeshore . . . even in the bed of his truck—
Ah, hell. Beth was pulling out swimsuits.At least I had one of those tucked away in my suitcase and didn’t have to worry about her offering to loan me one. The idea of sharing clothes drew my eye to my red sheath that lay in a heap, and then to the purple dress that was offered in tribute but rejected.
And then it drew my imagination to Deke peeling it off and tossing it aside.
23
Dixie
Tuesday morning arrived, and with it, the hour of Cooter’s service. Though I only had a few details to confirm on Monday morning, Beth jumped in to help finalize the plans for today’s event, and then we spent the afternoon sailing and relaxing in the sun. By the time we had her little boat hanging from her garage rafters again, I hadn’t seen Deke in over twenty-four hours. I’d found myself lapsing into memories of him throughout the day—some of this weekend, and some from an earlier time of our lives—and missing him terribly. It was time for me to leave before I made a decision we’d both regret.
The church I chose was Baptist of course, and I’d been forewarned by Mama that only Eastlake Baptist would do. It was newer, and naturally we’d be in need of the larger sanctuary. It was tempting to make the arrangements at First Baptist since we couldn’t possibly need more than a few seats, but then came the sadistic and rather pleasurable idea of acquiescing to her wishes if only to prove her foolish. Eastlake Baptist, it was.
The large parking lot encompassed the entire block on the south side of the building, and the sun glared brightly off the windshields of the vehicles filling it. I cruised the lot twice before I spotted an older Lincoln pulling out, and I managed to snag its space. A steady flood of humanity streamed toward the wide wooden doors and I joined the flow.
“Yoo-hoo!” The yelling from behind me caught my attention before I reached the edge of the asphalt. Elsie Hoffer hustled toward me, waving me down with a hanky. I stopped to wait, then waited again once she caught up so she could stash the handkerchief in her handbag and catch her breath. “Quite a crowd today! I’m parked clear in the back forty, I swear.” She clutched my forearm and bent at the waist to wheeze, then beamed as she perused the packed lot. I got her moving forward again. “George would be pleased that so many are thinking of him today.”
I halted, which nearly caused Elsie to trip over my foot. “Mrs. Hoffer, all these people aren’t here for Cooter’s funeral. There must be something happening down in the basement. That’s where everyone is going.”
The sidewalk we walked along lined the immense tree-shaded lawn. She pursed her lips in my direction, then added a huff as we shuffled along with the crowd. “Of course they’re here to honor George.” My skepticism no doubt telegraphed clear to the next county, and her even tone turned impatient. “Dixie, George Barnes was important to this town. The church wouldn’t dare disrespect him that way.” Mitch Davis, the postal worker, and the one person who had the pulse of the town, found a place in line just behind us. Like a hawk snatching at prey with its talons, she seized the sleeve of his navy jacket.
“Mitchell, what do you know about something else going on down in the community room just now?” He regarded her withwide eyes. With her fists perched on her hips and her temper ready to fly, even I took a step back.
“Now, Miss Elsie, I was told today’s bingo was cancelled down in the community room on account of Cooter’s arrangements. Ain’t nothing set up downstairs that I know of.” He screwed up his face. “Don’t it seem offensive to double-book a church with a funeral in progress?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I was explaining to Dixie here!” Elsie gave one sharp nod of vindication as she shuffle-stepped a few steps closer to the entry. Mitch disappeared.
I was officially in the Twilight Zone.Honor.Important. These were not words I’d ever heard used in a sentence along with Cooter’s name. My brain was misfiring, and even with my pace slowed to that of a slug, it made no sense by the time I neared the chapel entrance. Beth came forward from inside to greet me, took both my hands in hers, then wrapped me in an embrace. Her gaze perused my outfit head to toe—periwinkle linen suit and go-to nude pumps—as she pulled away, our hands still clasped again at arms’ length. “You look really nice.”
I smirked. We both knew it wasn’t what I intended to wear. She hooked our elbows and led me through the open front doors. I halted in the vestibule near Gus, the town’s maintenance man. He wore his signature overalls and plaid shirt, but had exchanged his work boots for dress shoes for the occasion.
“Miss Dixie.” Gus noticed me standing behind him and offered his hand. I lifted mine to him and it was easily engulfed in his large palm. “So sorry for your loss, ma’am. Old George sure will be missed at the Rotary. He was a fine humanitarian, and a hard worker when it came time for our annual fundraising campaign.”
I forced my lips to curve up in a smile and Gus moved away after a few moments of uncomfortable trite comments. Therabbit hole was nearby; it must be. I’d fallen through it and Alice and the Mad Hatter would show up any minute.
Beth gave my arm a squeeze. “Looks like great attendance.” She seemed especially pleased. I was still waiting for the cheering and carrying on from below, as if that wouldn’t be at all distracting. Because Mitch must have gotten bad information.
I took a look around. “So I’ve heard.”
Just then Pastor Jenkins appeared from his position near the interior doors, dressed in black with a white collar. “Welcome, my dear. I’m so pleased to see so many of our fine townspeople here to share as we celebrate the life of your wonderful father.”
The rabbit hole was definitely nearby. I gripped Beth’s hand. “Um . . . thank you?”
I received a benign smile in return. He turned and led us toward the front of the chapel. “I thought you might like a few moments alone with him before the service began. Such a wonderful, caring man. He donated the money for our playground equipment, you know. And made certain the Sunday school program had all the supplies it needed. Always so generous. It will be difficult to find a benefactor to replace him.”
I would have clung to Beth, if only to prove I was still in Kissing Creek and hadn’t been transported to Bizzaroworld, but she peeled my hand off her arm and deserted me to follow the pastor toward the casket. Theopencasket. One final item in an endless list of details that Olivia and I did not agree on, yet once again I ended up conceding. One day when I regained my sanity I’d ponder the reason for that. For now, I found myself inching ever closer to the raised box positioned amid an obscene array of floral arrangements.
