Page 23 of No More Heartbreakers

“Nah. She’s going later.” Gordy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Better watch out—she’ll make you be Wee-zer if you stick around too long.”

Mom was starring as Clairee in the Peachtree Valley Community Theater’s production ofSteel Magnolias. And when she was preparing for a role, weallwere.

Whomever happened to be handy would be dragged into running lines with her for whatever scene she was working on, gender be damned.

“Hmmph. It’s better than being forced to be Annie. I friggin’ hated that play,” Tee growled, making Gordy nearly spit out his sweet tea laughing.

Never one to miss a cue, Mom swept into the room wearing a big blonde bouffant wig, pearls, and a 1980’s looking skirt suit with huge shoulder pads—wardrobe from the play.

I hoped.

“Hi baby. When did you get here?”

She kissed my cheek and took her seat at the table, then turned a mom-glare on Tee.

“And Thomas, saying ‘frigging’ is no better than using the actual foul word. We all know what it stands for. You’re far too intelligent to express yourself using profanity.”

The ridiculous wig bobbed as she spoke, forcing me to suppress a giggle and avoid looking at my brothers at all costs. I’d lose it if I caught one of them also struggling not to laugh.

“Yes ma’am,” Tee mumbled.

Managing to regain control of my giggle box, I asked, “So, it’s a dress rehearsal tonight?”

“No, sweetheart. We won’t start those for a few weeks. I’m getting into character. It helps me to dress the part.”

Mom had recently become a student of the Method school of acting, following in the great tradition of Robert De Niro, Daniel-Day Lewis, and Jim Carrey.

She’d been known to dress and act in character for days at a time, which probably caused some chatter at the Food Star and the Junior League meetings.

Mom didn’t care. She may have come to it later in life, but she was anartist.

“I wish you’d auditioned, Heidi,” she said, grasping a cornbread muffin with a pair of silver bread tongs and putting it on her bread plate. “You love to perform, and you would have made a wonderful Shelby.”

“Reporting and anchoring aren’t really performing, Mom. There’s no acting involved.”

“Well, still…”

“Heidi Heidi Darlin’,” Daddy boomed, coming in from the backyard and saving me from an unwanted career on stage. “I’ve gotyourdinner right here.”

He deposited a hideous green-and-black-speckled rubbery creature on my plate.

“Looks delicious.”

Well accustomed to my father trying to gross me out with bizarre fishing lures, I pinched the jiggly thing and placed it gently on his dinner plate as he went to the sink to wash his hands.

He laughed. “The wide-mouth bass are gonna think so. It came in the mail today—the YUM Wooly Bug. Bass prefer it by thirty percent over the leading attractant.”

“Of course they do. How can they resist such culinary delights?”

“Gordon, please honey. No lures at the table.” Mom’s perfectly-made-up face pulled into a frown. “And Phil, would you like to say the blessing?”

With the Wooly Bug banished, everyone seated, and the food blessed, dinner began. So did the night’s encore performance of the How-Heidi-Should-Live-Her-Life show.

As usual, Daddy took the starring role in this one.

“All I’m saying is, it might not have been the best idea for you to move out just yet. When you get this TV business out of your system, and you’re ready to get serious and go to law school, you’ll need a rent-free place to live. And we hardly see you anymore.”

“Hardly” in his book meantonlytwice a week. “Daddy, Iamserious about—”

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