Tamar Myers - Poison Ivory

TA M A R MYERS A DEN OF ANTIQUITY MYSTERY Contents Snow in Charleston lasts less than half as long as There are times when life seems to unfold in slow Perhaps it was thanks to Greg, but Cheng and I The good news was that Buford is one of the I called Greg and told him about my unwanted visitor, My hunk of burning love keeps a schedule that is When The Singing Panda opened its doors, it was an When I returned to my shop I saw immediately that As a friend. One can never have too many friends, I wouldnt characterize myself as the impatient sort, nor am Excuse me? Theres no need to confess anything, dear; Ive already guessed. What? I cried in alarm When I observed how moist Taigas hunk of German chocolate No project has ever proceeded smoothly from the tools of Are we expecting terrorists, Wynnell? I asked. Bravo! Wynnell cried, clapping vigorously. Was it my imagination, or did a cloud suddenly obscure Well, you see those humongous trucks that are all but Greg and Booger, bless their hearts, had not gone to My dilemma was whether or not to fill Mama in Mama! You just took ten years off my life? Sure enough, when the dust settled some, I could see Why dont that beat all, Mama said, in a temporary Mama listened obligingly for a second, then glommed onto to Ha! Such moxie! If you were about fifty years younger, Mr. Curly (aka Lord Bowfrey) was charged with two counts of Snow in Charleston lasts less than half as long as a politicians promise.

Therefore, if I wanted to walk in it, I knew I had better hurry. I shook my husband for the umpteenth time. Greg, darling, wake up. He groaned. Maybe later, hon; now I just want to sleep. I couldnt blame him.

It was only two in the morning. Id woken up to use the bathroom and was suddenly struck by the sound of complete silence that only a wet, heavy snow can deliver in the middle of a night. Not a dog was barking, not a car engine racing, not even a foghorn was sounding on the nearby harbor. The city of Charleston seemed to be holding its breath while this once-in-a-ten-year event unfolded. Well, if my beloved husband wouldnt join me for an outing in the snow, then maybe my mother would. After all, she is from the Upstate of South Carolina, where the cold stuff, while still unusual, falls at least once almost every winter.

T a m a r M y e r s Mama! Wake up! Mozella Wiggins is a petite womanjust five feet tallwho has been stuck in a time warp since the early 1960s. She retires to bed in a proper nightgown, and lays a matching robe, neatly folded, across the foot of her bed. At the first sound of her name she sat up and reached for the robe in one smooth gesture. What is it, dear? Is it those shadows on the wall again? Mama! I was six years old, and that willow oak branch was growing too close to the house. You said so yourself. My minimadre shook her head sharply, as if to clear her brain from layers of sand and dust that might have accumulated on it while she slept.

Suddenly she was just as alert as a traffic control ler fresh back from rehab. Listen, Abby! Isnt it wonderful, Mama? Her response was to rush to the window and fling open the solid wood plantation shutters. What she saw made her gasp in delight, and she began to jump up and down like an excited schoolgirl. Oh, Abby, weve got to get out there as fast as we can. We have to be the first ones to make tracks in the snow. It brings good luck, you know.

It does? Says who? My mama and her mama before her, thats who. P O I S O N I V O R Y Who am I to argue with my foremothers? Do you have any waterproof shoes? Mama wears only pumpseven to picnics. No. I was hoping you had an extra pair of ga loshes. Well, considering the fact that Ive lived down here on the coast for the last five years, and its only snowed once, its somehow slipped my mind to stock up on them. Do you have a pair of old shoes that you absolutely hate? Dont be silly, dear; why would I buy some thing I hate? Sometimes with Mama one needs to tack, just as abruptly as one might with a sailboat.

Ah, but think of this as an opportunity to buy a new pair of shoes; my treat. Yesterday I saw a huge selec tion of pumps, with stiletto heels, in the window of Bob Ellis. You mean you wouldnt send me to Target? Theres nothing wrong with Target, Mama but yes, you may purchaseone does not buy a pair of the statement shoes if you like. Sold, Mama said happily, and scurried off to her closet, where, without a seconds hesitation, she retrieved a pair of pull-on rubber boots in neon yellow. Mama, whered you get those? These are my snow-walking boots from up in Rock Hill. Theyre from Target, you know.

Anyway, I keep them hidden under my laundry bag, because the color doesnt go with this room. But you said you didnt have anything! T a m a r M y e r s You asked me about shoes, dear; you didnt ask me about boots. Besides, remember all those times I called you up, when you were living in Charlotte, and asked you to come down and walk in the snow with me. If you had, youd have re membered these. Let me get this straight: you wanted me to drive down in the snow from Charlotte to Rock Hill, a distance of thirty miles, just so that I could walk in frozen precipitation with you? You should be flattered, Abby. I could have asked any one of my many friends instead.

It was time for me to shut up and stew quietly. There was simply no way to win an argument with Mama. If buying her a four hundred dollar pair of shoes from Bob Ellis on King Street was what it took to get her to walk with me, so be it. Mama was priceless. Plus, to be brutally honest, she might not live to see another snow as heavy as this one in Charleston. The natives of Charleston woke up in a panic.

Schools were closed, as were bridges, and meet ings canceled. Folks descended on the grocery stores like locusts and cleaned the shelves out of bread and milk. But by noon that same day the sun was out and the temperature was in the midfifties. By two oclock it was sixty degrees and there wasnt a trace of snow, not even against the north sides of buildings. Id managed to get a little sleep after my joy walk with Mama, and was pumped when I ar P O I S O N I V O R Y rived at my shop, the Den of Antiquity. I sell collectibles and antiques, by the way.

Although my inventory now tends toward the high end, I still offer a broad enough range to please most of the discerning touristsand localswho wander in. Okay, so thats not quite true at the moment. A faltering economy, a weak dollar, and high gas prices: these are factors can hit a tourist-oriented town like Charleston particularly hard. A person cant live without food, but a person can sure as shootin live without a Louis XIV chair with its gilded wood and Genoese velvet. One might say that business has been a mite slow latelyif one were given to understatement. Fortunately, Id done well in the past, and had a sizable nest egg put aside.

Unfortunately, it wasnt going to last forever at the rate at which Id been spending. Id found that one gets accustomed to a certain stan dard of living, and that it is darn hard to cut out luxuries that somewhere along the line became needs. Good morning, I said cheerily to my staff as I breezed in through the back entrance. Are we ready to make this the best day ever? In a pigs eye, Wynnell Crawford said. Shes my best buddy who followed me down from Charlotte with her husband Ed when I made the big move. No matter how sunny it is, Wynnell manages to find a couple of clouds in the sky; but the upside is that at least she gets a bit of shade and is less likely to wrinkle.

T a m a r M y e r s Hey Abby, Cheng said. Why arent you out dishpanning? I beg your pardon? You know: sledding down hillsexcept in a dishpan, not a sled. Back in Shelby we used to use washtubs and inner tubes, but youre so small, Abby, you could fit in a dishpan with no trouble. Thanks, ChengI think. But as you may have noticed, there arent any hills in the Lowcountry certainly not in Charlestonexcept for the banks along highway interchanges. Instantly, I regretted having said that.