Leaving Eden Read Free Page A

was I liked being in the shop, listening to the sounds of women’s voices. Even back when Mama was with us, Daddy had never been much for conversation, and now—with Mama gone and just the two of us—Daddy barely spoke at all. The talk at the Kurl balanced the silence of our home. I listened to the women talk about men and cooking recipes and when to plant bulbs, sorting through the particulars of what they were saying, testing things in my mind and adding the useful items to the book I kept. I’d started the notebook as a way of remembering everything about Mama—so I wouldn’t forget—but it had grown into a book about how to be a woman, the kind of stuff a girl usually learned from her mama. You’d be amazed at the things a person could learn just by being attentive.
    I was carrying the watering can up front for the ivy when I saw the sign perched on this easel Raylene had set up in the front window. It was a blowup of a blonde all prettied up like a Hollywood star with a feather boa streaming over her bare shoulders like pink lemonade, and Raylene had angled it so it could be seen by anyone in the shop as well as those walking by. On the bottom,
Glamour Day
was spelled out in red letters rimmed with gold.
    “Raylene,” I called. “What’s this?”
    “What’s what, Tallie?”
    “This poster. This
Glamour Day
thing.”
    Raylene left Sue Beth sitting at the sink with a towel wrapped around her head. Within minutes she was explaining the whole thing, how this company was sending in a team of trained professionals—that’s what she called them, a team—to make you over. For twenty dollars you got the complete works—hair, makeup, the whole job—and then a photographer took your picture in five different outfits entirely of your choice. Glamour Pics, the company called it, like you were a Movie Star or heading for center stage at Nashville.
    “For the twenty dollars,” Raylene continued, “they also let you keep one nine-by-twelve photograph.”
    I thought about that for a minute, then asked, “Well, how does the company figure on making any money—the glamour makeover and the photo all for twenty dollars?”
    “Tallie, honey,” Raylene said, “the Glamour Company’s lack of business acumen is not our problem.” She was as pleased with the whole deal as a cream-fed cat.
    Mrs. Wilkins was hanging on every detail. Naturally she’d already signed up for both her and Sue Beth.
    Suddenly I was filled with missing Mama. I could just imagine her sporting the pink boa. If she were there she’d probably end up directing
Glamour Day
herself. Mama knew everything about Hollywood. She had direct experience. The fact was that four years ago, when I was in the eighth grade, my mama’d headed off to California. She went there to be in a movie. You may doubt me on this, but it’s true.
    When Mama left, my daddy and me and her best friend, Martha Lee Curtis, were the only people in Eden to know why she went off and what her plans were. Tell people I’m off visiting kin and let it go at that, she said. Mama never did care a fig about what others thought. In that way she was unlike most women. So we told people just like she said. When their pointed questions met with no satisfaction, the majority of folks let the subject drop. Town gossip was that she’d left my daddy and run off with another man, which, believe me, was incredible but made sense to just about everyone in Eden. People were always saying my daddy was sweet, but no one pretended to think he deserved my mama. Her included, I suppose.
    Of course I was dying to tell the whole county what Mama was up to, but she said no. She made us promise. She had her reasons, she said. I couldn’t imagine what they might be. Wasn’t it better to have people knowing the truth than thinking she ran out on us? But like I said, Mama didn’t care about the good opinion of others. Still, if it were me, I’d want to tell everyone what I was setting off to do. It was