Chapter 2: Southern Hospitality

Chapter 2: Southern Hospitality

The news report continued with the usual commentary. There was no comment from the police, nor from the FBI, at least not yet, and law enforcement from the other towns were busy trying to shift blame.

"You think whoever's doing this will come here next?" Dhalia asked.

"Lord, I hope not," Gladys said, tapping her order taking notepad against her hip. "I just don't know why people have to act like that, snatching other people's babies,"

"Let him come on down here. Shit, we'll show him some southern hospitality," Old Frank said and looked towards his truck parked outside.

Old Frank wasn't a cop, but he was a game warden and a hunter himself. If someone really did poke around and try to cause trouble, he'd happily help the police hunt them down, either through the woods or the swamp and give them an extra warm welcome down the barrel of his rifle.

"Now Frankie, don't talk like that! I swear, practically inviting the devil to dinner,"

Gladys swatted him with her notepad and stepped into the kitchen.

Frank bit his tongue but once she was in the kitchen, he turned his attention back the Alma, Dhalia, and Shirley.

"Now you girls listen here. I don't want y'all wandering about, not till they get whoever it is. Just keep your little tails at home," he said warningly, eyes narrowed at Dhalia.

"But daddy, we have the graduation party! Come on now, you're saying we have to sit scared at home?"

"Alma does it all the time and it don't hurt her none! Enough lip," Frank snapped and Shirley winced, looking at Alma.

Was it a little embarrassing and hurtful? Definitely, but it also wasn't untrue.

"Daddy," Dhalia said and Old Frank seemed to pick up on what he'd said.

"Oh shush, you know what I mean. Alma, you're a good girl for not running the streets," he reassures. His walkie talkie buzzes and he grumbles to himself before heading to his truck.

The door to the diner closes behind him with a ding and Dhalia immediately begins to whine.

"This is so unfair! Sorry about those girls, but what's going on with them several counties away should mean I can't celebrate my graduation,"

"Your daddy is right. There's some crazy out there. No going out by yourself after nine, and no wandering without checking in," Gladys says, popping her head back in from the kitchen.

Dhalia slumps down into the dinner bar stool, head propped up in her hands.

"But my graduation dress..." she mutters, looking at her mother with big eyes.

Alma can see Gladys's debating with herself before her shoulders drop.

"Well obviously graduation is an exception," Gladys finally conceded and Dhalia jumps up with a squeal, coming around the table to wrap her arms around her.

"And the party?" Dhalia says as she breaks the hug, smiling hopefully.

"Alright, alright, I'll talk to your daddy, now come back here and help me cook these sausages,"

Dhalia nods and high fives Shirley before heading back to the kitchen.

Shirley comes over to Dhalia's table and sits down.

"Sorry to keep you waiting sis, but Dhalia has been so excited about graduation. She wants a photo shoot, and two separate dresses for what we wear under our gown and at the party afterwards. She wasn't even this excited about looking for prom dresses!"

Shirley spoke quickly and with excited, but Alma noticed that her little sister rarely sounded agitated or bothered. She always sounded like she could be reciting a poem and Alma couldn't help but smile.

"What? Thinking about something interesting?" Shirley said, leaning forward.

"Nothing, just thinking about your dress choice for prom,"

Shirley sat back into her seat with a satisfied look on her face.

"Yeah, we had the town taking didn't we. Ain't nobody done denim better,"

Shirley had collected old jeans and made three dresses. Two evening dresses for her and Dhalia and a mini dress for Alma, although Alma hadn't really found anywhere to wear it yet.

The dresses were such a hit at the dance, that Shirley was now getting commissioned to make other dresses.

"Maybe that's why Dhalia's so excited. She has an in house fashion designer.

"No, the fairy godmother is closed for graduation. All my work would just get covered up by the robes anyway,"

Shirley twisted her face and shook her head, right as Gladys dropped off some eggs and sausage.

Alma took the opportunity to start eating while Shirley fired off a few texts.

"Oh! That's what I was meaning to talk to you about," Shirley said, looking up from her phone.

"Need some money for fabric?" Alma asked around a mouthful of egg and French toast.

"Not that! Graduation. I want you there Al,"

Suddenly the food in Alma's mouth felt hard to swallow.

"I...don't think that's a good idea Shy,"

"But why?"

"You know why. I haven't spoken to mom and dad in months, and I've tried,"

Alma set down her fork and fidgeted with the sleeves of her hoodie.

"Your graduation is about you celebrating you, not you trying to stitch our family back together,"

"I can't do both,"

Shirley tried to trap Alma with her standard megawatt grin, but Alma shook her head.

"We'll do something after to celebrate,"

"Will you at least come get your hair done with me and mom?"

Alma wanted to say yes, but she also wanted to avoid that like the plague.

Still, she had already shot down Shirley's hopes once tonight, she should at least agree to this.

"Okay, just text me the details,"

"Yes, okay now let me tell you what mess Davis was talking last week,"

About two hours passed with Shirley filling Alma in on the antics of her sometime boyfriend Davis, church drama, and how their brother's football game was going.

Alma smiled, nodded, and laughed when applicable, but each passing story and anecdote made her realize that Shirley had two families now. One with a mother, father, and brother, and another with a lone sister.

Their time ended when Alma saw the family car pull up.

It didn't park and instead flashed the lights to get their attention.

It was their brother, Noel, driving.

When Alma looked in the car, he looked away and Shirley laughed awkwardly.

"Well, that's my ride. I'll text you," she said and hurried out the door.

Alma watched as Shirley opened the passenger side door, arguing with their brother for a moment before finally getting in, and she kept watching as the car drove away.

Noel was a good older brother. He had just finished playing his first year of college football. He was reliable and he came home during to school holidays.

Alma hadn't spoken to him since she drove him to the airport last Thanksgiving.

She remembered the silent drive, the tense conversation, and then finally the last thing he said to her.

"You really don't make anything easy. Not for dad and not for anyone,"

Alma quietly finished off her eggs and French toast and headed out.

The soft ding of the dinner door the only testament to her presence.

A few days later, Alma awoke to a video call from Ronnie.

She opened it to be met by the impressive bikini clad cleavage of Blossom King.

"Ronnie Poo, is this thing working? I pressed the button but I'm not hearing anything,"

"I'm here," Alma said and Blossom moved the phone smiling triumphantly.

"Oh it's video! Ronnie and I just wanted to call you, but video is even better! Now we get to see that beautiful face!"

Ronnie popped into frame, a large hat over his long black, grey-streaked hair and a pair of large sun glasses on his face.

"Let me hold the phone, darling,"

Ronnie took the phone and adjusted it until the two of them were in focus. Blossom grinned widely, the vacation sun having tanned her already bronzed skin. Her red lips matched her red bikini and her curly silver hair blew slightly in the wind.

Sitting side by side on two beach loungers, white sand surrounding them, the two looked like retired models.

Which made sense because one of them was.

Blossom King was a model, turned actress, turned home design maestro.

They had met when Ronnie had gone on a business trip to a meeting between art restorers and home restorers, in hopes that the two could work in tandem to preserve the architecture yesteryear and the art found within it.

Blossom and Ronnie took the collaboration aspect very seriously, marrying quickly and Blossom moving herself and her business to Ronnie,"

"Great news my little Alma-mater! I have a friend, a most fabulous one at that, who is going to be visiting our little swamp!"

"You remember the architectural preservation initiative that gave the old train station museum a boost in funding?"

"Yeah, we're still in the running for a restoration contract with the museum right?" Alma supplied. The old train station had multiple floors, not to mention several connected buildings. All had been boarded up and abandoned years ago, with the main building only recently reopened as a museum, with the state announcing intentions to renovate the entire thing. There was plenty of artwork in there that needed to be removed for construction to begin and once removed, those paintings would need some care.

"It's not a consideration anymore, kid. We got the contract,"

"And if that isn't great enough news already, my dear friend and collaborator Tabitha Tungsten is bringing her team to help with the actual construction and mapping work. Oh it's so exciting and I've already signed on the help with the decor! I'm think true to the historical routes, but of course with more accessibility and oh, I need to see everything up close and in person to see what—"

"Pardon me darling," Ronnie interjected.

"Sorry, Ronnie wanted to tell you about the meeting,"

"Yes, I need you to meet with the head of the Gulf Historic Society, Gail Brookline. I'll send you the email. I'd go myself but we have several weeks left in Corsica,"

Alma felt a faint feeling of nausea.

"Are you sure you don't want to reschedule. it for when you two get back?"

"No. I trust my partner to handle it,"

Ronnie lowered his shades and gave her a firm look and Alma's shoulders dropped.

"Okay," she said, even though that was the furthest from how she felt.

"Don't worry Alma. I spoke to my spiritual advisor and asked her about you. She said that you will face a challenge that will fortify you and bring you new and old life,"

Blossom nodded sagely and Alma nodded as well, despite not having a clue of what Blossom was talking about.

"Can't argue with that. Check your email, call me after the meeting. Bye," Ronnie said and Blossom reclaimed the phone.

"Bye my lovely Alma-mater, kisses!"

Blossom puckered up, as did Ronnie, albeit with less enthusiasm before hanging up.

Alma stared at the phone for a long time after the call, just trying to breathe.

She should be happy. It was work, in their town, and she would get her hands on all kinds of art. Maybe even watch other restorers work on other mediums, like sculpture.

But all she could think about was what could go wrong. About what already had gone wrong.

She had spent years making a fool of herself in social situations. Talking to people only to get scolded for talking to herself. Waving at people and being told that there was no one there. She learned how to function in society by giving herself some rules. Don't speak to someone until someone else acknowledges them. Mind your words, mind your eyes, and mind your business. This had been enough to get her through school and university and still be able to attend family dinners. But she was still paying for all the time it took her to learn this.

When she was little and still went to church, she remembered playing with Charley Moyse for hours after service in the field behind the church.

She had been so excited, because most of the children hadn't really been interested in playing with her, but Charley had. The two of them had played hide and seek and guessed what clouds were made of and before Charley said he had to go home, he told her that he was worried his mama wouldn't find where he had hidden some candy he got at school. He said he wanted his mother to have it and he left, waving goodby so joyfully she felt the Moyse house must be really nice for him to want to go home.

The next Sunday she had excitedly went up to Mrs. Moyse and asked if she could play with Charley again and if she had found the candy he had hidden yet.

Mrs. Moyse cried. Dropped to her knees between the pews and wailed in front of everyone and Alma's mother dragged her out.

Charley had died a few weeks prior. Drowned in the creek while visiting his aunt and uncle.

After that, Alma's parents decided that it was best that she stayed home when they went to church and Alma's mother started talking to doctors about what could be done.

The doctors couldn't do anything, but Alma could.

She learned to mind her words, to say nothing was there when someone was. She learned to mind her eyes, to not make eye contact with spirits or anyone really, lest a conversation kick off.

And Alma would never forget how forgetting to mind her business costed her that tolerated seat at the family dinner table once and for all.

A few months ago, around Thanksgiving, her grandfather on her father's side had passed. Her whole family had piled in the car and driven down for it. Her father had told her to just stay quiet and out of the way. Even when her grandfather's ghost appeared.

'Girl. Hey girl, I know you can hear me,'

Her grandfather's spirit had called out to her the entire ceremony, growing even more forceful at the wake.

'I got a pass to come here and you're not even going to listen to me? Child, things are going to get out of hand if you don't listen to me,'

Sure enough, on the same day her grandfather was buried, the her father and his siblings began to bicker about money. Whether there was a will, what to split, who got what. She could hear the arguing through the night, but she could also see her grandfather's restless spirit, pacing and looking at her as she laid in bed.

'If you want this to stop, follow me,'

Alma isn't sure now if she thought that he meant a stop to his presence or seeing ghosts altogether, but she did follow him.

She followed him out of the old farmhouse and down into the steps of the cellar.

She followed him to a ratty rug towards the back of it and once she moved it, she obediently entered the numbers into the safe she found underneath.

A will, a watch, and something she would not be able to explain were the result.

Her father didn't handle it well and she now realizes she was stupid for thinking anything she brought him could make him happy.

She remembers the fear she felt as he left out of his chair and pinned her to the wall.

'Where the hell did you get this? Huh?! And if you say ghosts I swear I'll kill you,'

Her mother had to pull him off of her and she had to find her own way back to town.

Now her calls went to voicemail and her father's truck around town felt like an omen.

In the safety of the studio and her home, she could pretend like she didn't see or hear anything. She could be the trustworthy and reliable Alma that Ronnie believed in.

But outside?

Alma couldn't even trust her own eyes, let alone herself.

A ding from her computer signaled that Ronnie's email had arrived and with shaking hands she clicked and opened it.

She had to go out and try.