When Bobbie Sang the Blues by Peggy Darty Read Free Book Online Page B

in jeans and a T-shirt, her suitcase in hand. She marched toward the back door, ignoring her sister.
    Christy hurried after her. “You’re coming home with me.”
    Bobbie straightened. The tears had been wiped from her cheeks, and the determined expression on her face made Christy feel even worse. “No, thanks. I’ll just.
    Christy hugged her. “Please.” She spoke softly. “Come home with me, at least for a while. We need to talk.”
    Bobbie turned sad eyes to Christy. She looked older in the morning light. Her sparkling personality had lost its sparkle.
    “Okay,” she said. She walked out the door to her truck.
    Christy went to the garage and found the long post from Granny’s farm lying on a back shelf. She hefted it and lugged it to her car, thinking about the project Bobbie had promised for the Red Hat luncheon.

    “You missed an interesting scene at the Blues Club last night,” Tony Panada said as he entered Hornsby’s office.
    “Aw, I don’t care about them clubs. I’d rather go home to my woman.” Hornsby swatted at a fly buzzing around the office. “I’ve seen more flies this morning than all week.”
    “It’s still hot weather, man. What do you expect? Listen, I’ll be out of town for the rest of the week. Keep an eye on my units. Especially the prize one.”
    Hornsby shrugged. “Sure. Business or pleasure?”
    Tony looked grim as he ran a hand over his bald head. “Business. Last night was pleasure.” His lips moved, but there was no smile, only a slight curl above his chin.

O n their way to Christy’s house, she and Bobbie stopped at the local hardware store. The items Bobbie needed to turn the old post into a coatrack were in storage back in Memphis.
    As they entered the store, Bobbie looked at her. “The Red Hat club uses red and purple colors, don’t they?” Christy nodded. “Red hats, purple dresses.” Her aunt went up one aisle and down the other, grabbing cans of spray paint, corbels, screws, wooden pegs, and sandpaper. “If only I had my power drill. Christy,” she called across the aisle, “do you have a toolbox?”
    “A small one with the basics.”
    Bobbie nodded, mulling over different size nails, finally picking up an assorted box. She paused at the end of the aisle to study some wood stacked in a large box. She selected a long piece and then two more that looked one-third the size of the first. Studying the items in her basket, she nodded to herself and guided her full cart to the checkout counter.
    She pulled out more bills and paid for her purchases, thenfollowed Christy back to the parking lot. “Okay, I’ll have something special to show the ladies on Thursday,” she announced.
    After they devoured a ham sandwich, chips, and iced tea, Christy helped her aunt set up for her project in the backyard. As Bobbie laid out her assorted supplies, Christy frowned at the purple spray paint and glanced questioningly at her aunt.
    Bobbie grinned. “Don’t pass judgment until you see the finished product.”
    “Fair enough. I’ll leave you to your work,” Christy said, heading back to the house. As she did, her mind replayed the argument between her mother and her aunt. She felt saddened for both of them, for in her heart she knew neither meant the cruel words they had hurled at each other.
    She sat at the eating bar and picked up her pen to write in her journal. Then she paused, thinking about the words she had spoken to her mother. She didn’t regret what she had said, although she wished it had not been necessary.
    Her mother was a wonderful person, really, helping wherever there was a crisis, reaching out to those in the community who needed food or clothes. She had spent hours preparing and delivering meals.
    Christy tried to focus on her journal, but her thoughts still centered on her mother and her aunt. It seemed to Christy that life had come easily for her mom. Beth earned a scholarship in interiordesign at the University of Alabama, where she met Grant