Page 63 of The Party Line

She brushed the bubbles off her shirt with the side of her hand. “What about them?”

“They are obsolete, and I’m getting rid of them, but I thought of them today. In their day, folks listened in on gossip and then spread it all over town—over backyard fences, behind those church fans with Jesus holding a baby lamb on one side and an advertisement for a funeral home on the other, or in hushed whispers in aisle three in the grocery store.”

“Why aisle three?” she asked.

“That’s where the feminine products are kept. No man would ever be caught there, so they couldn’t accuse their wives of spreading rumors,” I explained.

That made her giggle. “And what’s so different today?”

“We have cell phones, and a few folks still have landlines, like what’s in this house. But party lines are a thing of the past. Today, social media takes the place of party lines, and that’s the way that gossip gets spread all over town.”

“What has that got to do with Connor, or with anything else?” she asked.

“The things that were heard by eavesdroppers on the party lines in their day are probably most likely the same as what creates a good gossip session today. Only now it’s spread over social media for a day or two, and then something better comes along to take its place.”

“I’m still confused,” Mama scowled.

“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t care what people think or gossip about. I’m going to make myself happy.” I took a deep breath.“If getting into a relationship with Connor Thurman makes me happy, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I love that,” Mama said with a smile, “but I still can’t figure out what party lines have to do with it.”

“Probably nothing, but I believe that this ‘big secret’ thing started when Aunt Gracie overheard something on one of them,” I replied. “I don’t want to let anything other people think—even if it turns out to be something that’s whispered about for decades—keep me from living my life.”

“Okay, then,” she said. “I was also wondering if you’re stirring up other trouble. What’s this I hear about Gracie’s red panties?”

Not even sucking on a lemon could have kept the smile off my face. “Don’t you think those panties are a big enough thing to keep the few folks here in Ditto talking for a few weeks? Which reminds me ... When you took her clothing to the funeral home—”

“Yes, I took red silk panties and a red pantsuit and told the funeral director not to put shoes on her. She loved the feel of the green grass on her feet. I bet that sorry sucker started the rumor.” She narrowed her eyes and set her mouth in a firm line.

“Nope, Gina Lou did the honors when she told her mother,” I told her. “I don’t think there’s a funeral home–confidentiality thing like with lawyers and doctors, but he probably just gasped and did what you told him to do. You told me that she died right here at home. I was so shaken up and so busy I didn’t ask questions. Tell me more about that evening.”

“Jasper called me.” Mama shivered. “I was here when the ambulance arrived. They took her to the hospital, but it was too late. She’d been diagnosed a month before with congestive heart failure, and the doctor said she probably had a year to live. I wanted her to turn the downstairs office into a bedroom.”

“Why? Had it become hard for her to go up and down the stairs?” I asked.

“Yes, it had, but she was as stubborn as ...” She narrowed her eyes and shot a look over my way. “As stubborn as you are.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Anyway, the doctor at the hospital ruled that she died of a heart attack,” Mama said.

No wonder Mama felt like there were ghosts in the house. Something akin to a cold chill chased down my spine.

She stood up and placed the towel back on the chair. “I’m going now. I’m trying really hard not to let the eerie feeling in this place keep me from coming to see you, but I’ve got to admit, I’m glad I’m leaving on Monday. This is all I can handle for a while. Will you come help me pack tomorrow?”

“Why don’t we go for burgers at the Dairy Queen and then spend the afternoon together?” I suggested.

“I’d like that,” she said. “Are we going to church?”

“Let’s play hooky. Jasper won’t feel like getting out yet. I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty so we can beat the church crowd to the café.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said and hurried out the door.

I could hear her footsteps practically jogging down the stairs.

“Bless her heart,” I whispered and ducked my head under the water.

I came up for air, washed my hair, and rinsed it. Then I stayed in the tub until the water was stone cold and the bubbles had gone flat. When I pulled the plug and stepped out onto the rug beside the tub, my skin was almost as wrinkled as Aunt Gracie’s had been when I saw her the last time. I wrapped a towel around my head turban-style and another one around my body and padded barefoot to my bedroom.

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