Фэнни Флэгг - The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop

“You know my son, Brooks, of course, and this is my darling granddaughter, Carolyn Lee, and my handsome grandson, Richard…and Brooks’s wife.”

Ruthie had tried so hard to be civil to Martha Lee for Brooks’s and the children’s sake, but it was getting harder and harder. Then came Carolyn’s wedding.

Ruthie was the mother of the bride. She was supposed to oversee her daughter’s wedding arrangements. But, as usual, Martha Lee had taken over. The first day Ruthie and Carolyn sat down and started planning, Martha Lee walked over to their house and announced to Ruthie, “Of course we’ll use my caterers, and the reception has to be at my house—your yard is far too small. I’ll handle the renting of the tents, and the band.”

Ruthie had gotten one word in. “But—”

Martha Lee didn’t let her finish. “And, Carolyn, I know exactly who we will use to do the invitations. I don’t know what date you and Brian were thinking about, but let’s not do June. It’s so overdone. I’ll call All Saints and set a date for the end of May.”

—

A FEW WEEKS later, when Ruthie went with Carolyn to pick out her silver pattern, Carolyn said she needed to ask Grandmother what she thought before the final choice could be made.

As the wedding day drew closer, and everything was being done without her, Ruthie became so frustrated and upset that she pleaded with Carolyn: “I’m your mother. Please, honey, let me do something!”

“Oh, Mother. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. Grandmother wants to do it. All you have to do is show up and look pretty. Grandmother has ordered the most gorgeous wedding cake. She showed me a picture. Wait till you see it, you’ll die. We’re looking at bridesmaid dresses this afternoon. Grandmother said we have to be very careful with color. She wants something springy, but not too flashy. She said bright colors take attention from the bride. She’s thinking a pale lavender, or maybe a blush pink, and for the shoes, she’s leaning toward a cream or natural pump. Nothing white, of course.” It was no use. It was clear to Ruthie that she was going to be just another guest at her daughter’s wedding.

When the day came, Ruthie wore a light beige dress. But, true to form, Martha Lee—going against her own advice—made her grand appearance in a lime-green silk organza dress, with a large hat to match. After all, every occasion was about her…wasn’t it?

—

RUTHIE HAD TO admit that as much as she had hoped things would change, they hadn’t. Starting at the age of five, if Carolyn was not happy with something at home, she would pack her little bag and march over to Grandmother’s house. Of course, Martha Lee was delighted to have her. And it was always the same old battle to get her daughter to come back.

“She’s my daughter, Martha. She needs to come home.”

“Well, she’s my granddaughter!”

“I understand that, but she’s got to learn she can’t always get her way.”

“Why not? I see no reason she can’t have anything she wants. Besides, she told me you were practically starving her to death. No wonder she comes over here.”

“Oh, Martha, we are not starving her. She comes to your house because you indulge her. A six-year-old child shouldn’t be allowed to eat two and three desserts. All that sugar is not good for her, and while we’re on the subject, please don’t give her any more wine at dinner. She’s way too young to be drinking alcohol.”

“I beg to differ. In France all children drink wine.”

“Fine, Martha, but we live in Atlanta.”

“She’s going to have to learn how to choose good wines, sooner or later.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I would prefer later, rather than sooner.”

This last exchange really threw Martha Lee’s nose out of joint and she called Brooks at work. “Your wife is accusing me of turning my only granddaughter into an alcoholic. She absolutely refuses to let her have even one tiny sip of wine with dinner.”

Brooks sighed. He had been down this road before. “Mother, please don’t give Carolyn wine, and don’t put me in the middle of this.”

“Well, of all things. There has never been an alcoholic on either side of our families. The very idea is absurd.”

Brooks didn’t answer, which was his way of letting her know that he was not going to get into a fight over it.

After a moment, Martha Lee said, “I can see that I am being overruled. So per your wife’s wishes, your daughter will have no more wine. But let me say this: It’s so sad to me that your wife doesn’t seem to have the faintest conception of the art of fine dining, something I was trying to impart to Carolyn.”

Brooks said nothing again.

After a pause she continued. “Not to tell tales out of school, but when you were out of town last week, I did spot a Little Caesars pizza delivery van leaving your house. Not once, but twice. I think that about says it all.”

Brooks hung up and felt tired and torn apart. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. After his father died, he had been under so much pressure, having to take over the company during an economic downturn. The firm was losing money hand over fist. Now he was constantly being put in the middle of his wife and his mother’s tug-of-war over how to raise the children. He loved them both. It was hard to continually be forced to take sides. He walked over and poured himself a drink. Ruthie had been right.

They should never have moved into that house in the first place. Living next door to Martha Lee all these years had not been easy. And now with his father gone, the tension between the two women was getting worse. But they were stuck. He couldn’t sell the house now.

Nobody knew it, but he’d taken out two extra mortgages on it just to keep the company from going under. And he knew if he lost any of the old original Caldwell homes it would just kill his mother.

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

CALDWELL CIRCLE WAS located in the very center of Tuxedo Park, the most exclusive neighborhood in Atlanta. The Circle was a very large gated and private cul-de-sac consisting of three homes: the original Caldwell home, where Martha Lee lived, and two smaller homes on either side. Ruthie and Brooks’s home was on the right and his paternal aunt and her fifth husband lived to the left. Only they were never home. They, as Martha Lee said, “traveled.”

Martha Lee liked to point out that the Caldwell family had lived on the Circle for over a hundred years. The original Caldwell, a financier from North Carolina, had settled there in 1898 on a 250-acre tract. Now, the Circle was all that was left of the original Caldwell land.

It was a lovely place to live, with exquisite landscaping and beautiful trees surrounding each home. The problem for Ruthie was that although other homes had been built around it, she felt isolated from the rest of the world. Brooks had been the buffer between herself and Martha Lee. But now that Brooks was gone, Martha Lee didn’t even pretend to be nice to Ruthie.

With both her children gone, Ruthie felt lonelier than ever. She wished she could have a cat or a dog for some company, but sadly this was out of the question due to Martha Lee’s allergies. She knew she should figure out something to do with her time. She’d tried taking tango lessons, but the instructor gave her the creeps. Ricardo was evidently always on the rove to marry a rich widow, and as soon as she walked in he’d made a beeline for her. Ricardo didn’t know it, but she was not a rich widow. In fact, when Brooks died, she had been surprised to learn just how little money they had left. Their house was mortgaged to the hilt. However, when your name was Caldwell, people just assumed you were wealthy. She was still inundated with requests for donations, and invited to thousand-dollar dinners and five-hundred-dollar luncheons, where she was expected to bid on expensive auction items. Every other call seemed to be someone wanting her to donate something or give money for some charity. She knew Martha Lee would not want it known that any Caldwell had lost most of their money, so she gradually just dropped out of that social circle.