The School of Beauty and Charm Read Free Page B

something about her. I mean, having a cocktail is one thing . . .”
    Shirley halted and turned to face the women. In a hushed voice, she said, “Alcoholic.”
    Just then, Florida opened the front door. All three women beamed back at her and began to talk at once. The high slippery waves of their voices filled the yard, then the door shut behind them, and all was quiet except for the buzzing of insects in the noonday sun.
    Roderick approached me carrying a Japanese cricket box in his hand. Shirley had found the box in Atlanta, a purely ornamental piece to set on the living-room coffee table beside the Chinese vase, but Roderick soon discovered that it served as a fine cage for crickets, worms, and lizards.
    â€œHere,” he said, handing me the box. “I got two of them. If they get rowdy, just thump their heads.”
    Once inside, I removed my go-go boots and sidled along the walls so I could spy on the DAR, but they saw me.
    â€œIsn’t she precious.”
    â€œThe boy got the hair. She’s the spittin’ image of Henry.”
    â€œOh Florida, I disagree, honey. She’s you all over again.”
    Florida opened the front door and hollered, “Roderick! Are you out there in the weeds!”
    He yelled back that he was fine.
    â€œCome in here and get your inhaler! I don’t want you having an attack tonight.” She marched outside with the small green inhaler in her palm.
    â€œT HESE ARE MY WORKS ,” Florida was saying in her studio while Lacy made
ooh
and
aah
sounds.
    â€œYou are so talented. I could just kill you. Regina, they are out of this world. Is that a Matisse, honey? It’s just gorgeous.”
    â€œIt’s supposed to be Van Gogh,” said Florida. “I flubbed up on the stars. The children were fussing that day.”
    â€œWell, I learned all that in college, but I get them mixed up now. I guess it’s old age.”
    â€œLacy! You’re not old!” said Shirley, laying a ringed hand on her round pink shoulder.
    â€œOh yes I am! Did I tell you that Bill offered to loan me his razor, to shave my chin?”
    â€œShame on him!”
    â€œDid you wring his neck?” Their perfumes mixed and filled the air. Regina did not laugh when other people laughed. She stood tall, leaning slightly on her cane, facing the canvas in her black sunglasses.
    â€œGetting old is the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said loudly. Then she added, “
Starry Night
. I love that painting.”
    â€œIsn’t it great!” said Shirley. “I made her put these out when I was doing the house. She had them in a closet—”
    â€œHenry doesn’t like to put too many nails in the walls,” said Florida.
    â€œMen!” exclaimed Lacy. “I tell you what.”
    As the women rustled out of the room, trailing their scents behind them, Florida spotted me in the corner.
    â€œWhere are your shoes? Is that my cricket box? I’ve been looking all over for that thing. Put it back where it belongs, right now. Never mind, give it here. You’ll knock the vaseover.” She didn’t add “And it cost a fortune” because we had company.
    When company came, they used my bathroom. Florida shut the sliding door to my bedroom, opened the hall door, and whipped out the four guest towels and six tiny shell-shaped soaps that no guest had ever dared to touch—until Regina arrived.
    While she waited for Lacy to finish her business in the adjoining toilet, Regina stood at my sink, scrubbing her hands with a delicate lavender clamshell. Through the sliding door, which I had cracked open, I watched with delight as she snapped an ironed linen guest towel from the rack. Her back was ramrod straight, and through the mirrored wall facing us, I could see her sharp gray face in the dark glasses. Pressed against the door, I trembled, wondering if she would take them off. Roderick said that her eyes had been plucked out,