Once You Go Back. 24
Previously. In the old plantation house, Buckey joined MissK and her interior designers for an elaborate evening of fun. They enjoyed an elaborate, educational presentation on the history and types of lampshades. Inspired, Buckey dreamed up an idea of an educational evening walk through the garden. He woke to drama early the next morning when a slightly older friend and coworker stopped by. Randy, a country, conservative fella who’s married with children, unexpectedly declared love to Buckey.
The afternoon meeting with Randy was subdued. He brought me a coffee, but he didn’t take off his cap or even look me in the eye. I left quickly, picked up Bella and we hit the road for the weekend in Savannah. That old stray got used to me and my traveling life fast. She curled beside me on the truck seat.
I imagined our walking into the house in a couple of hours. Glenda would meet us with a beer. Glenda loved this old dog. And Glenda loved giving advice to me. I knew my cut-to-the-chase sister/friend would have two things to say about my current drama. First, don’t you dare let that redneck guy pull you back into the closet. Second, you’re never going to be a celebrity or a real part of their world. You’re a hired hand. But enjoy the ride, make beautiful gardens, and indulge in the luxuries offered.
About 20 minutes into the drive, just as I passed through the last onion field, Joyce called. I feared she’d call to tell me I was needed back at work. But I answered.
“You left early,” she said. "I spoke with Randy. I’ll get his roof cost overrun paid. And everything is almost set up to get you out of the middle of construction budgets. He’ll be out of your hair, and you can focus on the garden.”
I pictured Randy’s wavy auburn hair. I felt it scrub my neck as he cried into my shoulder.
Joyce was always concise on the phone. But this time, she said, “I’m just checking on you.” For a second, I wondered if Randy said anything to her about us. No way, I thought. She went on, “Tell me more about your idea for a garden tour. What you brought up the other night.”
Now, she was talking about work, but usually, our work talk was all facts and figures. This was different. She was trying to understand, to ascertain something.
“Joyce, I was just a little drunk. I’d been with all those pretentious decorating queens, and I was just thinking out loud. I could be like them on a garden level, I mean, impressing people like MissK.”
Joyce cut in, “MissK is impressed by you. You already know you are more than the gardener. Believe that. I’ve worked for her long enough to know that only special people get invited to personal events. She pals around with almost no one – but you take her to the Park ‘n Blow for chicken livers which sounds disgusting. You let her let her hair down. She needs that. Now tell me about a garden tour with cocktails and food paired with the tour.”
I did. She stopped me, “You keep referring to part of the garden as the ChinaPiney. I have no clue what you’re talking about. Explain.”
I objected, “It’s obscure garden history. Nobody cares but me.”
Joyce countered, “You just spent a night learning the history of lampshades. Have you ever once wondered about, much less been impressed by, the cultural development of lampshades? Grow a pair. Then tell me about ChinaPiney and make it a fascinating story.”
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