Miss Dreamsville and the Lost Heiress of Collier County Read Free Page B

dock toward the shack, which sat like a little island on rough-hewn pilings. As I knocked, I ducked to one side, just in case she answered with a shotgun blast.
    When she didn’t respond, I called out, hoping she could hear me. “Dolores, you know I can’t stay out here all night. I need to borrow a flashlight.”
    Nothing. Quiet as a grave.
    I tried again. “Dolores, what would Robbie-Lee say if he knew you weren’t looking after me?”
    The latch clicked and the door swung open.
    â€œDon’t you go saying my son’s name,” Dolores said. “He ain’t here anyway. He up and left me. Went to New York City.”
    â€œHe’ll be back,” I said gently. “He’s young, and just wanted to see a little more of the world. Just like I did.”
    â€œSee the world,” she harrumphed. “I guess the ’Glades ain’t good enough for the likes of you, or him.” She paused. “Why would anyone in his right mind go to New York City?”
    I couldn’t argue with her on that point. Mississippi wasn’t exactly a stone’s throw away, but at least it was the South.
    I noticed she had a drink in her hand. I wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. “You must hear from him—right? Does he send letters? He should be sending letters,” I said, taking her side.
    â€œYes, he writes me letters but he doesn’t tell me much of anything. Says a whole lot of nothing in them letters. Just things about pretty parks and big, tall buildings.” Suddenly, she brightened. “He saw Liz Taylor outside some theater on Broadway.”
    â€œReally?” I asked, forgetting my problems. “Robbie-Lee saw Elizabeth Taylor in person?”
    â€œYes, he did,” Dolores replied proudly. “She was going to see a play, and he said he was maybe ten feet from her, with him working in the theater and all.”
    â€œWell, ain’t that something?” I said. “Was she just as purty in person? Did he say in the letter?”
    â€œOh, purtier!” Dolores replied, as certain as if she’d been there herself. “Can you imagine seeing a Hollywood person like Elizabeth Taylor in the flesh?”
    â€œShe was my mama’s favorite movie star,” I said softly.
    â€œMine, too,” Dolores said wistfully. “Ever since I saw her in Father of the Bride .”
    Now I was really seeing another side of Dolores Simpson. I had trouble imagining Dolores in a movie theater at all, let alone watching such a sweet and charming movie. Of course, that film had come out fourteen years ago, in 1950, and it made me wonder what Dolores must have been like when she was younger.Then I had a memory of Mama, talking about forgiveness and how hard it was for her to get past the fact that Elizabeth Taylor stole someone else’s husband. My mind was a thousand miles away when suddenly I realized Dolores was peering at me as if she’d never really seen me before. All this talk about Elizabeth Taylor had altered the air we were breathing.
    â€œCome in,” she said finally.
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    THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE up on an ancient horse-hair couch that smelled like spilled beer, stale cigarettes, and low tide. An old metal spring was poking into my back.
    She had left me a note, written in pencil in all capital letters. THIS HERE CORNBREAD IS FOR YOU. TAKE IT AND EAT. TAKE A COKE, TOO. SORRY IT BE WARM. COME BACK AFTER YOU’VE TALKED TO DARRYL.
    Talk to Darryl? Oh Lord, in my disoriented state, I’d almost forgotten. Honestly, I’d rather have met the devil before daylight but I had agreed the night before that this was the next step. If it was true that he was going to pave over this part of the ’Glades, I needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth. And give him a piece of my mind.
    And find out where he got the money to pull off such an idea.
    And find a way to stop it. Or at