Second and final edition of String of Pearls by Nancy Purcell.


Meanwhile, Ellie had emptied the glove compartment without finding any tissues. She began folding old oil change receipts, inspection check-up sheets, and flattening folded pages in the ownership manual. After studying the registration certificate, she started putting the papers back in the compartment.
“Oh, yes. The flat tire,” he said, picking up his train of thought. “Well, anyway, I changed the thing myself and it made me realize that, sixty-nine-years-old or not, age was just a state of mind.” He smiled at her, as if expecting a reply.
She blinked a few times then fixed her eyes on him. “What are you talkin’ about? How’d you get from ‘Let’s get married’ to a flat tire in 1988?”
“Could’ve been ’89.”
“I asked the simple question, ‘What’s your middle name?’” Ellie said, “and you go on about a flat tire—coulda been 1988, coulda been 1989, coulda been right front, coulda been right rear. Lord, Russell, and you just said I talk gibberish. Ain’t that just like a man? By the way, do you have allergies?” He shook his head no and she continued returning things to the glove compartment. A gold charm on a chain with a key attached caught her eye. It was on of those key rings sold in gas stations and gift shops, the kind with every name from A-to-Z hanging on a spinner. Ellie turned it over. ADA was painted in bright red letters. “Thought you said your wife’s name was Frances? Who’s Ada?” She dangled the key chain in front of his face.
“Ada? Where the heck did that thing come from?” He reached for it but Ellie pulled it back. “I just want to see it. Maybe it’ll refresh my memory.”
“Russell Featherstone, you’d better come clean. I’ve got no intention of marrying a man who’s a two-timer. My sister Callie married one of those and lived to regret it. Had four children by that man, kept a clean house, and cooked every night. No matter. He still couldn’t keep his pants zipped.”
Upon hearing the word “zipped,” Russell asked, “Honey pie, did you unzip that outside pocket when you were looking for your hanky?” He motioned with a finger to a zipper on the front of her handbag.
Ellie’s eyes flicked to his face, then down at her bag. “Don’t believe I did.” She pulled the silver tab and withdrew a pale blue handkerchief. “You’re so smart, Russell,” she said, leaning toward him and pecking his cheek.
A broad grin covered the old gentleman’s face, as if he was finally on firm ground and could return their discussion to the core issue: marriage.
“That’s what surprises me,” Ellie went on. “Smart man like you takes a lady out for a drive in his big-fancy-Texas-oilman car with all intentions of proposing and leaves evidence of another woman in plain sight.” She slowly reached for the fan dial and turned it down.
“Wasn’t in plain sight. You found it when you were poking around in the glove compartment. Remember?”
Ellie fingered the key chain, turning it over and over. “What kind of car did she have? Or maybe I should say does she have?” Now she was swinging the key back and forth. Outside tumbleweed dancing across the terrain caught her eye. I love dancing. Wonder if Russell likes to dance?
“Ellie Pickett, you are one frustrating woman. How the hell do I know who Ada was? Could have been a friend of one of the grandchildren. Could have been one of those nurses I carted back and forth to care for Frances. Heaven help me if you ever find a phone number scratched on a piece of paper and I can’t remember whose it is! Guess once you say you’ll marry me, I’ll have to examine every nook and cranny of my house or you’ll change your mind.
So . . . I guess he’s planning on moving me into the same house he lived in with Frances. Now that would be just too strange. What if the furniture’s in poor taste? Lord, Leland hung on to that ratty old sofa of his mamma’s like it was spun from gold.
The couple was so engrossed in conversation they never noticed the car that had pulled up behind them. A knock on Russell’s window caused both of them to jump in their seats and their mouths to drop open.
“Sorry if I scared you, sir,” yelled a fortyish man with hair tied in a ponytail and a tee shirt that read “Viva Zapata.” “I just wondered if you might need help. You know, maybe needed a cell phone or something?”
“No, no,” Russell said. “We’re fine. Thank you for stopping.” He had cracked the window and now abruptly closed it and turned the air-conditioning up a notch. He made the mistake of asking Ellie, “Where were we?”
“I was gonna say that that’s how Callie caught Edgar.”
“Stranded on the side of the road without a cell phone?”
“No, no, silly. A phone number on a slip of paper. See, she was cleanin’ out his pockets, gettin’ his pants ready for the dry cleaners, and she came upon a slip of paper with a phone number and a woman’s name written on it.” She looked down at the key ring. “Name could have been Ada for all I remember. Wouldn’t that be a coincidence?” She closed her fist around the key. Poor Callie, she told herself. She never did get over that. Threw him out and then had to work at that cotton mill ten hours a day. Ellie opened her fist. “If you really don’t know Ada, then I expect you wouldn’t mind if I opened the window and tossed this away, would you?” Her finger tapped on the window control button.
A look of relief crossed Russell’s face. “Be my guest. Throw it out. Bury it, if it’ll make you happy. Then let’s get back to discussing something important, like marriage.”
Ellie studied him: he was still a good-looking man, one of those men instantly recognized as a quality person. His gray hair was combed back, sort of longish, and his full mustache was neatly trimmed. She’d been taken with him since that first Sunday after she’d arrived from South Carolina.
It was right before church when Barbara had voiced her surprise plan: brunch with her
father at his country club. When they entered the clubhouse foyer, there he sat; quite dashing in a green sport coat and khaki pants, his boots highly polished. For some reason Ellie’s stomach had fluttered, but at the time she attributed it to gas. Now she noticed the twinkle in his chestnut brown eyes. So why this nagging fear of giving him the answer he wants?
It wasn’t because her daughter would be upset, or because she—Ellie—didn’t want to let go of her old life. Truth was she wanted nothing more than to leave that other life. It’s why she’d flown a thousand miles to Texas. Hoping to find something she’d missed.
She had loved Leland but she was only eighteen when they married. What did she know about life, about anything? She’d never traveled anywhere, other than a visit to the State House in Columbia. Besides, Leland was a homebody, a worker; travel held no excitement for him. So Ellie packed away her dreams like too-small clothes, saving them for another day. After Lisa’s invitation, Ellie aired out those little dreams and carried them to Texas. Now she wondered if her hesitation was nothing more than the fear of beginning a new life chapter. Her fingers worried across the letters A-D-A and she decided to throw her caution and the keychain to the Texas winds.
Ellie pushed the window button and flung the key chain as hard as she could. As the window slid noiselessly to a close, she said, “And don’t you be drivin’ out here to mile marker 142 searchin’ for that thing!”
Russell took her hand in his, brushed her fingertips with his mustache, then kissed them. “Does that mean your answer is yes?” He waited.
“Let’s just say I’ll give you my answer after you’ve told me what those longhorns are about and answered my other question.”
“Which one?”
“You know. I asked if you were a sex maniac.”
“Well, the first one’s easy; I put them there because I could. When I was a youngster every rich Texas oilman had longhorns on his car hood. I decided if I ever hit it big that’s what I’d do. And I have, so I did. Whenever I look at them they tell me, ‘Ease up, Russell. Grab life by the horns and live a little.’ Which is why I'm working so hard at roping you in.” And he pinched her cheek.
“I’m still waitin’ for the answer to my other question.”
“Now that one’s going to be more difficult. You’ll have to marry me and find out for yourself!”
Ellie giggled, reached over, and ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re a handsome devil, know it?” She kissed him and then wiggled herself down into the seat.
Russell hit the directional signal and pulled onto the highway. Twenty minutes later he looked over at her and chuckled. “What number did you say that mile marker was?”
Sweetness painted Ellie’s face and she answered in a sing-songy voice, “Maybe it was 124, or it coulda been 241. Nope, I think it was 142. But I’m not certain. Anyway, I imagine my memory will get a lot better once I’m Ellie Featherstone.” She leaned forward and began fiddling with the radio, searching for an oldies station. She also lowered the air-conditioning fan. “That’s the thing about getting older. Unimportant things slip your mind so easily.” Suddenly she ramped up the volume and shouted, “Russell, listen! It’s Glen Miller’s band playin’ ‘String of Pearls.’ Did I ever tell you I love to dance? You do like dancin’, don’t you?”