Фэнни Флэгг - The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop

Arvel glanced at his hand again, smiled, and threw in another chip. “I’ll raise you another five hundred,” and waited for Idgie to either fold or call.

Idgie knew he could be bluffing…or maybe not. If she folded now, she wouldn’t get into more debt than she already was, but he would get the cafe. It would mean the end of everything she and Ruth had worked for.

The room was suddenly so quiet they could hear the clock ticking in the next room.

Finally Idgie said, “I’ll see you, and raise you another five hundred,” and threw in another chip.

Arvel looked surprised. But he threw in his chip and seemed happy to do so.

Big Jack said, “All right, Ligget. Show your hand.” Arvel kept smiling as he laid out his cards one by one, and said, “Read ’em and weep. A pair of sevens, high card, ace of spades.” He reached across the table to pull in his chips.

Big Jack said, “Wait a minute, Ligget. What do you have, Idgie?”

Idgie showed her hand, and Big Jack said, “The eights, jack high takes it.”

Ligget’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to losing. He said, “Let’s go again. I’ll throw in another five hundred. And I’ve got a nice little farm I’ll put up.”

Big Jack shook his head. “Nope, that’s it for the night, Arvel. I’m closing down the game. Now pay her what you owe her. I gotta go home.”

A sulky Arvel counted out the cash and threw it at her, along with her car keys.

Big Jack said, “And we’re gonna need the deed to that twenty acres of land she won.”

“I ain’t got it on me. I’ll get it over to her later.”

“Naw, you won’t. Eva, run and get me one of them quitclaim deed documents and my notary stamp. You’re gonna sign that land over to her tonight, and you ain’t leaving here till you do.”

Ligget thought about not signing it, but because of the nature of his business, Big Jack always carried a gun on his hip. He’d never had to pull it much, but he would. He just stood there looking at Arvel, gently resting his hand on the handle. Arvel got the message and signed the quitclaim deed over to Idgie. After he signed, Big Jack dated it, stamped it, and handed it to her. “Here you go, Idgie.” Big Jack then said, “Eva, why don’t you follow Idgie on home, make sure she gets there safe and sound.”

The next morning, Idgie woke up still in her clothes, suddenly remembered what had happened, and broke out into a cold sweat. If Ruth ever found out what she had done—that she had taken a stupid chance on losing everything they owned, everything they had worked for all those years—she would probably never see Ruth or Buddy again. She realized she had to figure out a way to get rid of the evidence fast. She could have her brother Cleo hold the money she’d won, that was no problem. She didn’t care about the stupid land. It was located way across the tracks and wasn’t worth a thin dime. But she didn’t want that bastard Ligget to have it, either, so she’d have to hide that deed and hide it good. She didn’t trust that Ligget wouldn’t try to steal it back. But more important at the moment was Ruth. If Ruth ever laid eyes on that deed with Idgie’s signature on it, and saw the date she’d signed it, she would know exactly where she had been, what she had been doing, and when. Idgie knew she wouldn’t be able to lie her way out of this one. That thought scared the hell out of her. She quickly got up out of bed, ran to the shed in the backyard, grabbed a shovel and an empty mason jar, and jumped in the car. With her head throbbing and feeling sick as a dog, she drove out past Double Springs Lake and parked. She walked across the meadow with her shovel and mason jar to the same tree where she always got her honey. Once she got there, with her head still throbbing, she started digging a hole at the base of the tree. As she dug, she could feel the hot morning sun hitting her back and the sweat running down her face, while hundreds of bees buzzed all around her. When she thought the hole was deep enough, she stuck the deed inside the mason jar, closed the lid tight, and buried it where she knew nobody would ever find it. Especially Ruth. Ruth was deathly afraid of bees.

Driving back home to the cafe that morning, still sick and shaky, Idgie vowed that from that day forward, she would give up gambling forever. And she did. Idgie never went to the River Club again. Except to get Buddy’s dog. But she hadn’t gone inside. Just up on the porch.

Buddy and Ruth would never know it, but almost half of his college tuition had been paid for by that one lucky poker game. And as for Arvel Ligget, a few months after Idgie beat him at that game of poker, his luck ran out again, and this time for good. He should have known that gambling with real money wasn’t a safe thing to do. Too many men knew that, before he went home after a game, Ligget had a habit of stuffing his winning cash into his right sock. Not too many people had been surprised when his dead body was found out in the woods, barefooted and with an ice pick stuck in his neck.

Some said that it had been his own cousin that had done him in. The Liggets were never known to be a close-knit family. Not where money was concerned.

WHISTLE STOP, ALABAMA

WHEN THE EASEMENT documents came through, Evelyn called Ruthie immediately. “How soon can you get back over here?”

“I’m packing as we speak. Would three hours be soon enough?”

—

THE NEW ROADS leading in and out of town were being built, and new curbs and sidewalks put in. Utilities lines had been laid, and, after a lot of hard work on the part of the building crew, the cafe was finally almost finished. Evelyn and Ruthie had created an exact replica of Whistle Stop, only better. Unlike in the old cafe, everything in the kitchen now worked perfectly, plus, it had air-conditioning. The living quarters in the back were just about ready for Ruthie to move into. She wanted to live onsite, so she could oversee the rest of the work.

As the project progressed, Evelyn Couch, who was on the board of a local theater group, called her friends Philip and Bruce, who were set decorators, to come work on the project. Ruthie explained to them what she needed, and, using all the old photos of the town, they went to work. Philip found a photograph of the old Whistle Stop railroad crossing sign, created a new one, and put it back where the old one had been. They also re-created the original cafe signs and the old green lettering on the windows that read FRIED GREEN TOMATOES. They had even copied the old original cafe menus from the thirties. Only the prices were changed. Who could serve a full breakfast these days for twenty-five cents?

—

BUD’S NEW HOUSE was coming along nicely. And at the old Threadgoode family home, pieces of rotten wood were replaced and painted. The lawn was replanted, and the old chinaberry tree in the front yard trimmed.

As they stood admiring it, Evelyn said, “You know what, Ruthie? This old house would make a perfect bed and breakfast. It has eight bedrooms and a big kitchen.”

Ruthie agreed. “It would be perfect. I found some pictures of vintage rose-patterned wallpaper online. I can do the entire house over in the exact same period. It was built in 1894, so when you go in, you’ll feel like you’re going back in time. I’ll bet people would love to stay here.”

Evelyn looked at her and smiled. “Are we having fun or what?”

—

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, Ruthie was busy overseeing the hanging of the deer head above the cafe counter when her cellphone rang. It was her dad.

“Hey, it’s me. Honey, are you sitting down?”

Oh dear. She walked over and sat down. She could tell by the tone of his voice that something either terribly bad or terribly good must have happened.