CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Berta Franklin sashayed into Milly’s dress shop; she normally doesn’t purchase anything, just stops in for the latest gossip, “So, anything new around here?”
Margaret Milly was a thirty-two-year-old spinster, who had run the dress shop for seven years now. Of average height and looks, a little on the lean side. Brown short hair with matching eyes. Came from Peacock, New Mexico with her younger sister, Alma. Tragedy struck just three weeks after the two sisters set up the dress shop; Alma was found dead in the rear of the store early one morning. Earl Schulz conducted an autopsy; the results came back that an artery popped due to a brain aneurysm.
Margaret stays to herself most of the time, but she can be found every Sunday afternoon back of the church where the cemetery is located. Always fresh flowers on Alma’s gravestone; people rumored there was more to the story then was bein told, such as they weren’t truly sisters at all, but nevertheless, Margaret was slowly welcomed into the community.
She was one of the few in town who spoke openly to Berta about her and Buddy Wilson. “Nothing new, unless you’re talking about how Buddy put you in the family way.”
Berta stopped looking at dresses and wheeled around to face her, “What did you say?”
“You heard me right; so…what you gonna call it if it’s a boy, Buddy Junior?” She chuckled.
“Who said I’m with child?!” She shrieked as she blushed crimson.
“If it’s a girl, you could call it Budetta.” Now Margaret gave out a gaudy belly-laugh followed by a series of chuckles and giggles.
“That’s not funny! Who told you I’m pregnant?! Stop laughing at me! I mean it Margaret; you better stop it right now!” She stood defiant with her hands on her hips.
The more infuriated Berta grew, the funnier it became for Margaret. She was hysterical with laughter to the point she had trouble catching her breath.
Berta could take no more, “Screw you Margaret! I hope you choke to death on a chicken bone!” She bellowed as she stormed off, slamming the door hard behind her. Margaret had tears streaming down her face; but suddenly stopped when she realized, she had wet herself.
Only several minutes had passed before Berta reappeared, and was clearly in an improved frame of mind; as she popped her head through the door, “Can I come in?”
“Oh, don’t be silly, get in here. I haven’t laughed that hard in over a year. Berta honey, you really gotta stop bein’ so thin-skinned over what other folks say about you and Buddy. Learn to roll with the punches doll. Who cares what other folk’s think; they’re just a bunch of gossipin’ naysayers.” Margaret stated flat-out as she was using a towel to dry herself.
Berta entered and smiled, “When you’re right, your right. To hell with those ingrates.”
“So tell me now, what’s it like making whoopee with ol’ Buddy?” She asked.
“What…you really want to know?” Berta asked looking her straight in the eyes.
“Sure, you know, I’m just curious.”
“Well, I will tell you this much, he can sure ‘peel-an-apple’ if ya know what I mean.” Now both ladies broke out laughing.
A few moments later, Berta just couldn’t let it go, “Really Margaret, who told you I was knocked-up?”
Margaret busted out in hysterics once more, and was gonna need another change of undies, to be sure.