The Blind Poodle Sisters

Everyone in Chanceville knew The Blind Poodle sisters, Annette and Babette and didn’t pay much attention to their eccentricities, but Alpaca Finn was fascinated with them when they came into the Lovely Locks Beauty Salon. They came in all cheery and laughing; honking the bicycle horns attached to their white canes and announcing loudly that the Blind Poodle sisters had arrived, as if people didn’t recognize them. 

Their big brown eyes, longish noses, and curly blonde hair did not make them look unlike the canine whose name they bore. Alpaca, who never missed a detail, noticed a little blond fuzz above each of their upper lips. Linda Lou had put Alpaca under the dryer and she and Misty Mae quickly went to work on Annette and Babette respectively. The sisters simultaneously crooked their index fingers and had Misty Mae and Linda Lou bend down as they whispered in their hairdressers’ ears. Alpaca was certain she was missing out on some juicy gossip, which her own canine-like hearing would certainly have been able to pick up if not for that noisy hair dryer.  

The sisters’ hair just needed a quick trim and they had gone on their merry way, arm-in-arm, by the time Alpaca got out from under the dryer. 

It was a real scorcher out and the twins wore, to Alpaca’s mind, extremely skimpy sundresses, much too risqué for ladies who appeared to be in their mid-forties.

“Um, Linda Lou, who were those two women and who on earth dresses them?” asked Alpaca.

Annette’s dress was made of a print of giant sunflowers and Babette’s was of giant roses. They wore multiple strands of bright plastic beads and big hoop earrings and to Alpaca’s utter horror; the twin’s legs were bare and quite hairy. 

 “Those were the Blind Poodle sisters,” said Linda Lou. “They’ve been blind since they were ten and they can still remember how they loved bright colors, so they have their maid, Poppy, buy the loudest, most garish clothes and accessories she can find. They like to make a statement.” 

“They certainly do that”, said Alpaca. “They actually have a maid?”

“Oh, yes. Their daddy, Melvin Poodle, everyone called him Muddy, was the richest man in Chanceville. He owned Poodle’s Pie Factory and Poodle’s Five and Dime. Their mama believed twins were unlucky and she ran away with a handsome traveling preacher right after the twins were born. Muddy never remarried so Annette and Babette were his only children and Daddy left them a bundle. I guess he’s been gone about six years now. They live in that big brick mansion on the corner of Main Avenue and Main Street, across the street from where the church used to be,” said Linda Lou. “You know, the one with the twin poodle statues on the front porch.” 

“I could hardly miss it. Those statues are pink!” said Alpaca, shaking her head.

 Linda Lou poked Alpaca in the back of the head with her comb and told her to hold still. 

“Every time I walk by there, it looks like there’s a party going on,” Alpaca added. 

“Muddy Poodle, wasn’t in the family mausoleum a day, before the twins made Bunny paint those statues,” Linda Lou explained. “Muddy would have had a fit. He sent all the way to Paris, France for those statues. He kept a tight rein on his daughters, what with them being blind and all, always worrying hisself silly over them girls. They didn’t waste any time kickin’ up their heels after Muddy passed.”

“I noticed they were bare legged and um, not exactly well groomed in the leg and underarm department,” said Alpaca. 

“Oh, they like to be au natural, if you know what I mean”, said Linda Lou winking.

“You mean, they don’t wear undergar..?”

“Not a stitch!” said Linda Lou. 

Milton's New Baby and Alpaca Lands a Job

Milton liked the looks of the Underwood Noiseless model, but he also kind of liked the friendly clacking of the typewriter keys when he got on a roll with his story writing. The Remington Deluxe was more his style, sleek and low to the ground. He asked Mr. Williams if he could take it for a spin and Mr. Williams quickly produced a sheet of paper for practice. Milton only had to type out one sentence to know that the Remington Deluxe was his new baby. He left the shop whistling, excited to get home with his brand new typewriter and a ream of off-white bond paper to hold his words. 

When Milton turned the corner and passed the White Jasmine Tea Room, he couldn’t help but look in the window to see if Mayrose Mayhern was in her usual spot, although he never knew her to be there any other time than Thursday mornings at 10:00 a.m. Instead, he saw Llama Trout, or whatever her name was. Strange lady, he thought. And that was the last thought Milton had about Alpaca Finn for quite some time. 

Alpaca saw Milton walk by and thought she perceived his step quicken a bit when he saw her sitting in the tearoom. Her list of eligible bachelors was quickly dwindling, several candidates whom she thought had potential turned out to be real duds, but Milton, to her mind, still had great potential. 

All she had to do was figure out the key to getting his attention. She would start with making his sister-in-law Celia her new best friend, but first she had more urgent business to take care of. She needed to find a job. The money Darrell Davis had given her before she left Saints of the Woods would soon run out. She probably shouldn’t have taken the money but he felt guilty about her reputation being ruined when his wife and then, the other ladies in town found out he had been sneaking around with her. That was the only thing he could think of to do when he found out Alpaca was leaving town.

Geraldine loved her job at the Loon County Library, but she had worked there for twenty-five years and every day was the same as the next. The only new thing in her life was Alpaca Finn’s tea parties. Geraldine loved a good mystery and her innate curiosity told her that the late Reverend Finn’s sister was up to something. It kept her coming back. She’d known the other ladies most of her life and none of them ever had anything new to say at Alpaca’s little soirees. It was always the same old gossip, but the tea and pastries were excellent and she enjoyed sitting back and watching Alpaca work the room. 

At last week’s tea party, Trachea Carmichael, Old Doc Trueblood’s nurse had to help doc with an emergency so she didn’t make it to the tea party, which made her fair game. Everyone agreed they hoped she didn’t bring her usual dried out baked beans to the church picnic on the 4^th of July and they certainly couldn’t be washed down with the oh so sour lemonade she made. It tasted like she used one shriveled old lemon for the whole pitcher and salt instead of sugar.

Geraldine never joined in on the gossip; she also never missed a tea party because she didn’t want to be the target of their barbs. She enjoyed sitting back, arms folded, watching Alpaca steer the conversation back to the menfolk of Chanceville. 

“Celia, what is your brother-in-law, Milton’s, favorite pie?” asked Alpaca. 

Celia looked puzzled, but answered, “I believe it’s gooseberry. Why do you ask?”

“I heard that Sunday is his birthday and I thought I would bring his favorite pie to the picnic.”

“Sounds good, " said Celia. To Celia’s knowledge, Alpaca didn’t even know Milton, but she had observed that Alpaca only revealed things in her own good time. 

Alpaca then turned her attention to Geraldine Nurse. Here it comes thought Geraldine. Alpaca had been buttering Geraldine up ever since the late Reverend Trout Finn’s funeral. As time went on Geraldine could see that nearly all of Alpaca’s line of questioning had something to do with the menfolk of Chanceville. What Geraldine couldn’t figure out was why Alpaca was so nice to her. She had no brother, dad or uncle and her son, Nathan, the doctor, was way too young for Alpaca. 

“Geraldine, what a lovely dress you’re wearing today. Is that new?” asked Alpaca as she topped off Geraldine’s tea and offered a delicate flowered saucer filled with tiny lemon wedges.

“Thanks, Alpaca. It’s not new. I wear it quite frequently,"  said Geraldine as she waved the lemon wedges away, thinking to herself, “Get to the point, Alpaca”. She knew Alpaca never missed a detail and that her frequent wearing of that dress would be discussed if she ever missed a tea party.

“Well, it always looks fresh and pretty on you, dear," said Alpaca as she set the saucer back on the teacart. “Not like that threadbare cotton print Annie Pat wears to every function she attends. You’d think wages at the Shop-A-Lot would allow her to afford a new frock once in a while.”

Geraldine wasn’t going to bite on that one. She knew that Annie Pat had a brother who couldn’t keep a job and that’s where most of her money went. She certainly wasn’t one to talk behind people’s backs and Annie Pat was a good friend of hers and what she did with her money was no one else’s business. Geraldine sat back, folded her arms, and waited for Alpaca’s next move. She didn’t have to wait long. Alpaca looked around the room and it seemed that everyone was happily engaged in conversation and enjoying their tea and ladyfingers. 

Alpaca cleared her throat, “How are things going at the library?” 

On the surface this seemed like a casual question, but there was nothing casual about Alpaca and Geraldine felt the weight of it. 

“Quiet as ever,” said Geraldine. 

“Well, I certainly hope you’re not working too hard, my dear," said Alpaca. 

Geraldine’s patience was starting to wear thin. She had just about had all of the “my dears” she could stand for one day and besides, there was no way she was this woman’s dear. 

“No, but I will be getting ready for the annual book fair soon.” And as soon as she said it, she knew that she had just given Alpaca her in. It was all she could do to keep from wincing.  

“As you know, I plan on making my home in Chanceville and will only be able to remain in the church parsonage until they sell it. I need to find a job as soon as possible so I can afford to move. I've had some experience working in our library in Saints of the Lakes. I would love to come to work for you, if you think I could be of service," she added looking demurely down at her well-manicured nails. 

Geraldine took a few minutes to mull this over. Her most recent assistant, MerryLynn Tarmack, had recently decided that the library was way too quiet for her and had gotten a job as waitress at Tony’s 24 Hour Mechanic and Roadhouse. Geraldine was in need of help. She needed someone organized and that seemed to be one of Alpaca’s strong suites. Once, when Geraldine had taken some of the tea things into the kitchen she had noticed that the spices were alphabetized. There were also little white labels taped to all the doors of the cupboards, as if there were hoards of people coming through the parsonage who didn’t have time to hunt for what they needed. Still, it was a form of cataloging and that was a good skill for a library worker. But the thing that cinched the deal was her distrust of Alpaca’s motives and she thought it would be a smart idea to keep an eye on Alpaca on behalf of the good people of Chanceville. 

Milton Matthews Lays an Egg and Alpaca Goes Fishing

Miss Mayhern hadn’t given any more thought to Milton until she entered the tearoom and saw him sitting at “her” table. Her already straight backbone stiffened even straighter. What was Mrs. Little thinking, giving this stranger her table? Mayrose decided she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of reacting as Mrs. Little escorted her to a table to the right of the alcove. 

She took a chair that allowed her to turn her back to Milton, which really annoyed her because now she was looking at the kitchen passthrough where the food orders were served up, instead of the soothing décor of the tearoom. As she gave her order to Mrs. Little through clenched teeth, she thought about not ordering the bran muffin and thereby shortening her time in the tearoom, but she was not going to play his ridiculous game. She would not change her routine, not one iota. 

As Mrs. Little passed by Milton on her way back to the front counter, she shot him a look. He raised his eyebrows and hunched his shoulders as if to say, what did I do? She had warned him not to take that table but he insisted, saying it would be a funny little joke and he would give it up when she came in. Mrs. Little tried to tell Milton that as far as she could determine Mayrose Mayhern had no noticeable sense of humor and that he should just leave well enough alone. And if he thought he could trick Mayrose into paying attention to him, then he was about three bricks shy of a chimney.  

Milton realized that Mrs. Little was right, so he went over to Mayrose’ table with the intent of apologizing to her and assuring her that he would never play that trick on her again. But she was mid-ritual and would not be interrupted. Mayrose would soon find out that Milton could be just as determined as she was. He stood there, motionless, patient, while she drank her tea and finished her muffin in exactly twenty bites. She wiped each corner of her mouth, folded her napkin in a perfect triangle, laid it beside her teacup and looked up at him, her eyes, bright blue flint, challenging him to say something sincere that would make his breach of etiquette all right with her. If Miss Mayhern were prone to the vernacular, she would be thinking, “fat chance”. Milton walked away, realizing this was a battle he would not be winning.

When Milton left the tearoom, he did not notice the smartly dressed figure of Alpaca Finn following him around the corner. He was on his way to Williams’ Brothers Stationery and Haberdashery to look at their selection of typewriters. Milton loved everything about the stationery side of the store. He was also in search of a new pen, always in search of the perfect pen. A few weeks ago he had bought the new Eversharp Skyline and found it way less than perfect. It wrote in fits and starts and was not at all dependable. Milton was lost in a display of pens when he heard someone clear her throat several times. He finally looked up and there stood Alpaca on the other side of the display counter. He nodded and went back to looking at all of the lovely pens, but Alpaca was never one who could suffer being ignored. She came around to Milton’s side of the display and lightly touched his arm. Milton took a step back and Alpaca removed her gloved hand from his arm. 

“I’m Miss Alpaca Finn, sister of the late Reverend Trout Finn. Your sister-in-law, Celia, pointed you out to me one day when we were in Steele’s Hardware. You were busy, so I told Celia I could meet you another time. It’s good to meet someone else new to Chanceville," said Alpaca. She was 5’ 11 1/2” and enjoyed being able to actually look up into someone’s eyes and Milton’s were a warm brown. She imagined that the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but right now he just seemed to be puzzled by her presence. 

“Um, nice to meet you, too," Milton finally managed to mumble as he went back to looking at pens. He wasn’t seeing anything new that caught his fancy (in more ways than one) and was ready to move on to the typewriter displays. 

“Excuse me, " he said as he tried to move past Alpaca, but she was playing defense and blocked the aisle.

Eighty-five –year-old Mr. Williams, The Younger, came over and asked Alpaca if he could help her. He knew Milton could find his way around the store.  

“No, thank you," said Alpaca. “I was looking for a specific brand of notecards that I don’t believe you carry," Alpaca sniffed.

“If you’ll just tell me the name of the company, I’m sure we could order them for you," said Mr. Williams. 

“Oh, is that the time?” Alpaca said, looking at her watch. “I need to talk to Mr. Matthews for just a minute and then be on my way to an appointment. Could you please excuse us?”

Mr. Williams, The Younger, stroked his pencil thin mustache, nodded, and walked away. He hadn’t worked with the public since he was a boy without learning to read people. He knew when he was being dismissed. 

Alpaca, resisting a sigh, looked up at Milton and tried gazing deeply in his eyes, but he was looking at something over her shoulder. She started to lay her hand on his arm again and thought better of it. 

“Excuse me," Miss Trout, it was nice meeting you, but I would really like to go over and look at the typewriters.” 

“It’s Miss Finn," she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “Are you a writer? That’s very exciting,” she said before he could answer.  

At this point, Milton was only seeing her as an obstacle and just wanted her to move. As he had demonstrated earlier in the tearoom, he was normally a man of great patience, but this was starting to wear thin. He bobbed to his left and she shifted to her right. He bobbed to his right and she shifted to her left. He was actually thinking of picking her up and moving her, when she finally came to the point. 

“I was wondering if you would like to come to my house for dinner one evening soon,” she asked. 

“I’m afraid I’m busy that night," said Milton, thinking of pivoting and doing an end around the pen display. 

“I didn’t say WHICH night.” 

“Oh,” Milton said softly. “It’s just that I’m working on a big project and won’t be available for quite some time. I do appreciate the invite though.”  

The bell over the door tinkled and Alpaca was distracted just long enough for Milton to make a beeline for the typewriters. Alpaca followed him and told him that she wished him luck with his project and left it at that. 

“Uh, huh," Milton said, clearly distracted by the beautiful new Underwoods and Remingtons. 

Alpaca exited the store, but by no means was she close to exiting Mr. Milton Matthews’s life. Oh, no, not by a long shot. 

Milton Makes Notes

CelebrationsAtHomeBlog.com

Miss Mayhern always managed to pull her chair out without making that scraping sound against the big black and white tiles on the floor. Mayrose then set her handbag directly in front of her on the far side of the little round table, always with the muted gold clasp facing her. As soon as she sat down she took her gloves off, starting by pulling up on the left hand pinkie finger and progressing along that hand until finishing with the thumb and pulling the glove completely off. She then held that glove in her left hand and proceeded in the exact same manner to remove her right glove. Then Mayrose fit both gloves together, finger matching finger, thumb matching thumb, laid them in her lap (in order not to soil them on the table) smoothed them out bottom to top exactly three times and then carefully draped them across the top of her handbag, with the cuffs facing her. She wore a dainty garnet ring set in rose gold on the ring finger of her right hand. As soon as her gloves were removed she adjusted this ring so that the garnet was squarely in the center of her finger.

By this time Mrs. Little was on her way over to take her order. Even though Mayrose always ordered the same thing, Mrs. Little always took her order with the doomed hope that some day, some bright and shining day, Miss Mayrose Mayhern would order Something Different, something other than a pot of Earl Grey tea, no lemon, milk, no sugar and a bran muffin, no raisins.

After the tea service was brought to the table, Mayrose would always rearrange things to her liking. The teapot was on her upper right, with the handle and the spout on a parallel line with her handbag, teacup and saucer on her left, dessert plate with muffin to the right of the teacup, etc. etc.  Once everything was squared away to her liking (sometimes these things were only moved a quarter of an inch) she would place the tea strainer on her teacup and pour her tea. She added a small amount of milk, stirred the tea carefully, and took a tiny sip. Then she alternated sips of tea with delicate bites of muffin, wiping her mouth at the corners after each bite of muffin with the pale pink linen napkin. This routine never varied. No matter how many times Milton observed this ritual he never once saw any variation. He even started counting the bites that it took her to finish the muffin. It was always twenty, and for the life of him, he could not figure out how she managed that.  

Signs from Amazon

One Thursday morning in May just as the tulips were fading and the peonies were opening up to their full beauty Milton arrived at the tearoom a little before ten and greeted Mrs. Little.

"Good morning, dear lady."

"Good morning, Milton. Isn't it a lovely day?"

"Not as lovely as you, Sweet Pea."

"Oh, go on with you, you big old teddy bear."

"Fine, how about a bear hug then?"

"Just go to your table and drink your tea."

She smiled and shook her head as she watched him take a seat at a table in the back next to the table where Mayrose always sat. Just as soon as he sat down Mayrose came in the door. As she neared her table Milton stood up, bowed and said, “Good morning.”

Mayrose stopped in her tracks, looked at Milton, nodded primly, and sat down with her back to him. He picked up his paper and rather noisily folded it so he could work on the crossword puzzle. He noticed that if he rattled the paper quite loudly Miss Mayhern’s shoulders hunched slightly. Milton finished his tea and decided to go sit on a bench at the park and finish the crossword puzzle. He might make a few notes of his observations of Miss Mayhern's tea ritual. It was a too nice a day to sit inside and breathe walled in air. He passed Mayrose without acknowledging her, deciding that he'd pestered her enough for one day.

Mayrose watched as that annoying man, whoever he was, left the tearoom. Good riddance to him and his rattling paper she thought to herself. Still, there was something familiar about him, something strong and comforting from a long ago memory. When he first started coming in to the tearoom, she had noticed his interactions with Mrs. Little and the patrons of the White Jasmine. People seemed to be drawn to the warmth of his company like the comfort of a soft old sweater. 

 At any rate, he wasn’t born in Chanceville like she was and probably was just here for that huge waste of time, golf. Mayrose couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to drag a heavy bag of clubs around all afternoon hitting and following a tiny little golf ball. Maybe it was for the reward of a drink in the clubhouse at the end of the round, but she didn’t believe in drinking either so her disapproval was complete. That Annoying Man was probably a drinker, which would explain why he was so everlastingly cheerful.