"That's wonderful," Esme said. Her words rang flat and toneless, but Cleav was too excited to notice.
"I suggested such a visit months ago," he explained. "But never in my most optimistic dream did I imagine that they would actually accept my invitation."
Laughing again, he pulled Esme close and held her tightly. "Do you realize what this means, Hillbaby?" he said. "It means recognition of my accomplishments, validation of my work." He shook his head with delighted disbelief. "It means that maybe, just maybe, my achievements will see acknowledgment. Pisciculturists all over the country"—he raised his arms in a broader gesture— "maybe all over the world will hear about my experiments, my ponds, my trout."
"That's wonderful," Esme tried again more enthusiastically, but something about her reply still didn't ring true.
"Three weeks," Cleav told her excitedly. "Just three weeks and we'll have those esteemed gentlemen right here in this very house!" With his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Cleav lifted Esme right off her feet and spun her around like two children playing Whirling Dizzy.
"Yes!" Cleav hollered as he spun.
Esme found herself pushing back the block of cold fear as she tried to join her husband in laughing at his foolish antics.
When he finally stopped, they both weaved in place for a moment as the room continued to spin. Then Cleav lowered his lips to hers in a sweet, joyful kiss that, with a quick flick of the tongue, turned to naughty loveplay.
Esme basked in the hot sensuality for a moment before hearing a giggle from the doorway of the sewing parlor. Pulling away from her husband, Esme gave Adelaide a disapproving look.
"Mind your own business!" she told her huffily.
"Business!" Cleav said and slapped his palm against his forehead as if his brain didn't work perfectly. "You mind your business, Miss Snoopy Crabb," he told the twin. "And I'd best get back to minding my own," he added to Esme with one last hasty kiss. "Your daddy is probably fiddling as the store burns!"
With a wave and a promise he was off.
Esme closed the door behind him and watched him take the steps down two at a time as he hurried off toward the General Merchandise. There was no smile on Esme's face as she watched him go.
"Three weeks," she whispered aloud. "In three weeks two of the most important gentlemen in the fish-culturist movement will be coming to Vader, Tennessee, to meet Cleavis Rhy." Tears stung her eyes, and she bit her lip to hold them back.
They were going to find some fancy ponds and some dandy fish, she thought. And they were going to discover that their friend—no, their correspondent—Mr. Rhy, was married to an ignorant hill cracker.
"Oh, Cleav." She sighed aloud. "You've wanted this so long. You've wanted to be one of them."
Weaving her hands together in a double fist, she placed them earnestly at her chin.
Oh, please. Don't let me ruin it for him.
Two dayslater Esme determinedly reminded herself that "the Lord helps those who help themselves" and sought out her mother-in-law.
Eula Rhy was not hard to find. A large floppy hat on her head, her voice was raised in a loud off-key rendition of "Why Are You Weeping, Sister?"
Esme interrupted her right in the middle of "I was foolish and fair and my form was rare."
"Mother Rhy," she said. "I need to talk to you about something."
The older woman looked up from the impatiens she was carefully replanting in the shady spot next to the house. "Why, what's wrong with you, girl?" the woman asked. "You're not looking quite yourself today." The older woman eyed her up and down curiously. "You're not in a 'delicate condition' already?"
"Oh, no," Esme assured her quickly. "It's just that . . . well
Eula Rhy sighed loudly with impatience. "For mercy's sake, child, say what you have to say. These plants don't have time to waste on your nonsense."
"Well," Esme tried again. "I'm not really sure what to say."
Mrs. Rhy snorted in disbelief. "If there's one thing no one would accuse you of, it's not being able to speak your mind!"
Tightening her jaw bravely, Esme finally blurted out, "You know that these fancy fish folks are coming to visit my Cleavis."
"Lord, yes," Eula answered with an unconcerned wave of her arm. "I may be old, but I'm not deaf. That's all that boy can talk about these days."
Deciding that Esme's interruption was unimportant, the older woman kneeled forward again and began working the dirt through her hands.
