The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree by Susan Wittig Albert Page A
Authors: Susan Wittig Albert
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other one. Got clean away into Briar’s Swamp, they said. He’ll wish they’da shot him, I reckon. You go in there, you’re gonna get eaten alive by mosquitoes.” She paused. “You’ll tell Buddy’s dad?”
“I’m on my way over there right now,” Verna said. Myra May hung up, but Verna didn’t, not right away. She just stood there, listening, as Miss Silver might have done.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Everybody on the party line had heard the news.
FOUR
Lizzy
Monday, May 12,1930
Mondays were always slow in Mr. Moseley’s law office, which didn’t bother Lizzy Lacy a bit. It gave her time to catch up on what she hadn’t finished the preceding week. If she had a few minutes left over, she worked on her newspaper column, which was always due on Wednesday.
Today, there wasn’t much work left over from last week, just some bills to pay (Lizzy did the office books and handled Mr. Moseley’s personal accounts) and Lester Sawyer’s will to type up, in triplicate, a job that Lizzy always hated, and especially in this case, because Lester Sawyer had a lot of property and was particular about who would get what when he was gone. She was a careful typist and didn’t make many mistakes, but when she did, she had to get out the eraser shield and correct every carbon copy, which slowed her down considerably. There was also a list of telephone calls Mr. Moseley had asked her to make, as well as the court calendar to check, so she could have the necessary files on his desk before he needed them. He mostly did property and family law, with the occasional criminal case. There was nothing very exciting or even especially difficult about any of it, but it did require her to pay attention and notice things—which Lizzy considered to be a good thing, since she was a person who noticed.
Lizzy had come to work for Moseley & Moseley not long after she got her high school diploma. Benton Moseley had been a young lawyer then, handsome, bright, just out of Auburn Law School, in practice with his father, Matthew Moseley, a widely respected lawyer and, at one time, a state senator. The elder Mr. Moseley had died in the 1918 Spanish Flu, which carried off quite a few folks. But the younger Mr. Moseley—Bent, his friends called him—had carried on, following in his father’s footsteps. He had even gone up to Montgomery in 1922 to serve in the Alabama Legislature, which meant more work for Lizzy, who had handled the office during the four years he was gone. In fact, she got to the point where she could do most of the things that Mr. Moseley could do, except go to court and argue in front of the judge. As it turned out, though, Mr. Moseley hadn’t liked politics all that much. After one term, he came back to Darling and to the office full-time.
Lizzy was glad. She’d had a terrible adolescent crush on Bent Moseley in the early days of her employment and had mooned around, allowing herself to suffer greatly from unrequited love. But then he had married blond, beautiful Adabelle, a willowy debutante from a wealthy Birmingham family. They had two children, both girls who were blond and very pretty like their mother, and several years back had built a fancy house on the outskirts of town, near the Cypress Country Club. Adabelle’s father had helped build the house. He had helped to further Mr. Moseley’s political career, too, although it was rumored that he hadn’t been too happy when his son-in-law returned to private practice. Now, Lizzy didn’t allow herself to think of her earlier crush on Mr. Moseley—not very often, anyway. She just enjoyed working with him, did the best she could to make his work easier, and kept her romantic fire banked. These days, she wasn’t even sure it was still burning.
This Monday was different from the usual because of the excitement of what had happened out at the Murphy place on Sunday afternoon, at the very hour that the Dahlias were holding their meeting. Mr. Moseley
“I’m on my way over there right now,” Verna said. Myra May hung up, but Verna didn’t, not right away. She just stood there, listening, as Miss Silver might have done.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Everybody on the party line had heard the news.
FOUR
Lizzy
Monday, May 12,1930
Mondays were always slow in Mr. Moseley’s law office, which didn’t bother Lizzy Lacy a bit. It gave her time to catch up on what she hadn’t finished the preceding week. If she had a few minutes left over, she worked on her newspaper column, which was always due on Wednesday.
Today, there wasn’t much work left over from last week, just some bills to pay (Lizzy did the office books and handled Mr. Moseley’s personal accounts) and Lester Sawyer’s will to type up, in triplicate, a job that Lizzy always hated, and especially in this case, because Lester Sawyer had a lot of property and was particular about who would get what when he was gone. She was a careful typist and didn’t make many mistakes, but when she did, she had to get out the eraser shield and correct every carbon copy, which slowed her down considerably. There was also a list of telephone calls Mr. Moseley had asked her to make, as well as the court calendar to check, so she could have the necessary files on his desk before he needed them. He mostly did property and family law, with the occasional criminal case. There was nothing very exciting or even especially difficult about any of it, but it did require her to pay attention and notice things—which Lizzy considered to be a good thing, since she was a person who noticed.
Lizzy had come to work for Moseley & Moseley not long after she got her high school diploma. Benton Moseley had been a young lawyer then, handsome, bright, just out of Auburn Law School, in practice with his father, Matthew Moseley, a widely respected lawyer and, at one time, a state senator. The elder Mr. Moseley had died in the 1918 Spanish Flu, which carried off quite a few folks. But the younger Mr. Moseley—Bent, his friends called him—had carried on, following in his father’s footsteps. He had even gone up to Montgomery in 1922 to serve in the Alabama Legislature, which meant more work for Lizzy, who had handled the office during the four years he was gone. In fact, she got to the point where she could do most of the things that Mr. Moseley could do, except go to court and argue in front of the judge. As it turned out, though, Mr. Moseley hadn’t liked politics all that much. After one term, he came back to Darling and to the office full-time.
Lizzy was glad. She’d had a terrible adolescent crush on Bent Moseley in the early days of her employment and had mooned around, allowing herself to suffer greatly from unrequited love. But then he had married blond, beautiful Adabelle, a willowy debutante from a wealthy Birmingham family. They had two children, both girls who were blond and very pretty like their mother, and several years back had built a fancy house on the outskirts of town, near the Cypress Country Club. Adabelle’s father had helped build the house. He had helped to further Mr. Moseley’s political career, too, although it was rumored that he hadn’t been too happy when his son-in-law returned to private practice. Now, Lizzy didn’t allow herself to think of her earlier crush on Mr. Moseley—not very often, anyway. She just enjoyed working with him, did the best she could to make his work easier, and kept her romantic fire banked. These days, she wasn’t even sure it was still burning.
This Monday was different from the usual because of the excitement of what had happened out at the Murphy place on Sunday afternoon, at the very hour that the Dahlias were holding their meeting. Mr. Moseley
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