Page 2 of Under the Tulip Tree
My mouth fell open.
Dovie had been our housekeeper since before I was born. She knew every inch of the house and handled Mama’s fetishes—a word I’d recently discovered and enjoyed using whenever I could—without blinking an eye. On a day as busy as this day promised to be, Dovie’s help couldn’t be more needed.
“When has she ever been underfoot? Besides, you know she and Gus need the money. I hope you’re at least paying her.”
Mama’s lips pinched, a sure sign I’d pushed the boundary. “Lorena Ann, just because you’re sixteen now does not mean you can tell your mother how to manage the servants.”
I gave a small shrug in apology. It didn’t make any difference to me if Dovie worked or not. A catering company was scheduled to provide food for the party and clean up the hall afterward. Tables and chairs were being set up this morning, and Mama, Mary, and I would go over after lunch to decorate with pink and white streamers, roses, carnations, and even balloons.
A glance out the window revealed an empty driveway where Daddy’s “money-green” 1929 Cadillac Town Sedan usually sat.
“Daddy was supposed to stay home today. We’re havinglunch at the Maxwell House Hotel.” The childish petulance in my voice was a bad habit I’d need to abandon now that I was sixteen, but Daddy had promised to spend the day with the family.
“He had some pressing business to take care of. I’m sure he’ll have time to meet us later.”
She didn’t sound too convincing. We’d learned long ago the bank came first. Daddy would apologize and buy Mama or Mary and me presents to make up for disappointing us, but sometimes we just wanted him, not presents.
I popped another blackberry into my mouth, grimacing at its tartness. I imagined my face mirrored how I felt about Daddy’s absence at my birthday breakfast. I hoped whatever was so important at the bank wouldn’t spoil the plans we had for the rest of the day. He hadn’t come home yesterday until long after supper, and he’d immediately disappeared into the study. Mama said he was tired from a busy day and not to worry, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since we heard President Hoover on the radio last week, talking about something regarding the New York Stock Exchange, Daddy seemed agitated and distracted.
Mary entered the kitchen, yawning. “Morning. Happy birthday, Lulu.”
I chuckled. “Thanks, Sis.”
“Your sister is a young lady now, Mary,” Mama said, her mouth drawn in disapproval. “You named her Lulu when she was born because you couldn’t pronounce Lorena Ann. Perhaps it’s time to put away the childish nickname.”
Mary rolled her eyes once Mama turned her back. I covered my mouth to keep from laughing and carried my juice to the breakfast table. Had Mama forgotten most people, including herself, call me Rena? Especially when her mother, Grandma Lorena, and I were in the same room.
“What time are we going to the hall?” Mary poured herself a cup of coffee and joined me at the table. “Roy said he’d help with the decorations.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. Roy Staton, son of Daddy’s most important business client, was as dull as they come in my opinion. With Mary in her first year at Ward-Belmont College, she had endless opportunities ahead of her. Why she’d agreed to date dull Roy was beyond me.
“We should be there by two.” Mama glanced at the wall clock. “We’ll need to finish with plenty of time to come home to bathe and dress. The guests arrive at seven.”
She set a bowl of lumpy-looking oatmeal and a plate of slightly burnt toast on the table. When she returned to the kitchen, I crinkled my nose. My taste buds were set for Dovie’s famous blueberry pancakes and crisp bacon, a tradition on my birthday as far back as I can remember.
Mama stopped to look out the window above the sink. She seemed preoccupied. Worried even. Which was unusual, because Mama rarely allowed herself the luxury of showing her true emotions. Sometimes I wondered what she really thought, like when Daddy embarrassed her after church last Sunday. A group of parishioners had gathered in the noon sunshine, discussing the building project that would providemore room for the growing congregation. Daddy bragged about how much money he’d donated in order to have the new education wing named Leland Hall. Mama’s face turned beet red, but she’d put on a smile and made a joke about Daddy buying his way into heaven.
“Roy said his friend Homer wants to call on you after the debutante ball.” Mary glanced at me for a response.
Mama brought over a platter of scrambled eggs that seemed the most edible out of all her efforts, then joined us at the table. “Homer? What’s his last name? Do I know his parents?”
I groaned. “It doesn’t matter. He could be a Rockefeller for all I care. I still wouldn’t go on a date with him.”
“You’re such a snob, Lulu.”
“What’s wrong with the boy?” Mama wanted to know.
“Nothing.” Mary and I spoke at the same time.
Mama’s brows rose in question as her blue eyes pinned me to the chair.
I lifted one shoulder. “I simply can’t see myself married to someone named Homer, so there’s no point giving him encouragement.”
Mary shook her head in disgust and dug into her meal. Mama studied me with more concentration than I felt I deserved, considering the topic of conversation. I was years away from settling down with a husband and family, so she should be relieved I wasn’t boy crazy like my sister.
“If I wasn’t dating Roy, I’d set my cap for Homer,” Mary said right on cue, as though Mama or I cared about her latestinfatuation. “He’s handsome, smart, and comes from a very fine Memphis family. Roy says Homer’s mother is from old money.”
I gasped in mock interest. “Maybe they found buried treasure on the banks of the Mississippi left over from pirate days.”
