I was actually pleased that these items would be going to homes where they’d be enjoyed and cared for and cherished instead of being stowed in an attic.
I could tell that Donald really wanted to go through the big box of pictures and papers still awaiting my attention, but there was no way that was going to happen until I’d looked at all of them. I told him so in very polite terms, and we also shook on the agreement that if any more secret compartments of any kind were found in the furniture I was selling them, I would have first right to buy the contents back if the contents had any money value.
After they’d called their store to arrange pickup and written a check, the dealers departed with one or two of their smaller purchases. They seemed as satisfied as I was with the day’s work.
Within an hour, a big Splendide truck came up the driveway with two husky young men in the cab. Forty-five minutes after that, the furniture was padded and loaded into the back. After it was gone, it was time for me to get ready for work. I regretfully postponed examining the items in my night table drawer.
Though I had to hustle, I took a moment to enjoy having my house to myself as I put on my makeup and my uniform. It was warm enough to break out my shorts, I decided.
I’d gone to Wal-Mart and bought two new pair the week before. In honor of their debut, I’d made sure my legs were shaved extra smooth. My tan was already well established. I looked in the mirror, pleased with the look.
I got to Merlotte’s about five. The first person I saw was the new waitress, India. India had smooth chocolate skin and cornrows and a stud in her nose, and she was the most cheerful human being I’d encountered in a month of Sundays. Today she gave me a smile as if I were exactly the person she’d been waiting to see . . . which was literally true. I was replacing India.
“You look out for trouble with that goober on five,” she said. “He’s tossing ’em back. He must’ve had a fight with his wife.”
I would know if he had or not after a moment’s “listening in.” “Thanks, India. Anything else?”
“That couple on eleven, they want their tea unsweet with lots of lemon on the side. Their food should be up soon, the fried pickles and a burger each. Cheese on his.”
“Okeydokey. Have a good evening.”
“I’m planning on it. I got a date.”
“Who with?” I asked, out of sheer idle curiosity.
“Lola Rushton,” she said.
“I think I went to high school with Lola,” I said, with only a short beat to indicate that India’s dating women was any more than a daily occurrence.
“She remembers you,” India said, and laughed.
I was sure that was so, since I’d been the weirdest person in my little high school class. “Everyone remembers me as Crazy Sookie,” I said, trying to keep the rue from my voice.
“She had a crush on you for a while,” India told me.
I felt oddly pleased. “I’m flattered to hear it,” I said, and hustled off to start working.
I made a quick round of my tables to be sure everyone was okay, served the fried pickles and burgers, and watched in relief as Mr. Grumpy and Dumped downed his last drink and left the bar. He wasn’t drunk, but he was spoiling for a fight, and it was good to see the last of him. We didn’t need more trouble.
He wasn’t the only grumpy guy in Merlotte’s. Sam was filling out insurance forms that night, and because he hates filling out forms but has to do it all the time, his mood was not sunny. The paperwork was stacked on the bar, and in a lull between customers, I looked it over. If I read it carefully and slowly, it wasn’t hard to figure out, no matter how convoluted the English got. I began checking boxes and filling in blanks, and I called the police station and told them we needed a copy of the police report on the firebombing. I gave them Sam’s fax number, and Kevin promised he’d get it to me.
I looked up to find my boss standing there with an expression of total surprise on his face.
“I’m sorry!” I said instantly. “You seemed to be so stressed out about it, and I didn’t mind taking a look. I’ll hand ’em back over.” I grabbed up the papers and thrust them at Sam.
“No,” he said, backing away with his hands held up. “No, no. Sook, thanks. I never thought of asking for help.” He glanced down. “You called the police station?”
“Yeah, I got Kevin Pryor. He’s gonna send over the report to attach.”
“Thanks, Sook.” Sam looked like Santa Claus had just appeared in the bar.
“I don’t mind forms,” I said, smiling. “They don’t talk back. You better look it over to make sure I did it right.”