The Magnolia League - By Katie Crouch Page 0,19

Tom McPhillips in line with nothing more than my sunny disposition, and it’s about time you did the same.”

Sybil flushes red with humiliation. The other Magnolias exchange glances. No one is happy when Miss Lee gets stingy with the Buzzards’ spells. Who is she saving them for, anyway?

“So,” Khaki says, trying to change the subject, “I hear Alexandria is settling in?”

“She is,” Miss Lee replies, taking a long sip. “Gradually.”

“My granddaughter, Madison, says she has a lot of… spunk.”

“She’s like her mother that way,” Dorothy says. “Although it’s up to those girls to start instructing her in some social graces.”

“They’re taking it slow,” Khaki says. “They don’t want to scare her.”

“Of course not,” Miss Lee answers. “It’s a lot to take in. The dances, the walk. She’s starting at nothing.”

“Has she met the Buzzards yet?”

“Absolutely not. She doesn’t need to be acquainted with Sam Buzzard just now. She needs time to adjust.”

There is a flicker of disapproval in the room. No other Magnolia has been kept from the Buzzards this long. What makes Alexandria so special?

“That’s funny,” Mary Oglethorpe says. “I could have sworn I saw Alexandria and Sam Buzzard together in my garden today.”

Miss Lee looks over at Mary, startled. “I’ll have to look into that,” Miss Lee says abruptly. “But the most important thing is for the Juniors to have that girl ready for the ball by Christmas. As we know, she is lagging far behind—but it would be so embarrassing if she didn’t come out with the girls in her class. So, Sybil, please talk with Hayes about getting my granddaughter caught up. Mary, you’ll take care of the dance lessons, yes? All right.” Miss Lee smiles wickedly. “Y’all know that we don’t do business during Wine Time. What else can we possibly talk about?”

There’s a long silence, and then Julie Buchanan says, “I promised I wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but yesterday morning at the crack of dawn I ran into Jeanette Witherspoon’s ex-husband coming out of the Morning Roast with a little bitty thing who could not have been more than seventeen. I don’t want to be ugly, but I think she is one of the checkout girls at Kroger. I like to have died.”

Other voices join in, elaborating all of Tim Witherspoon’s character flaws and laying out his various failings in graphic detail, including the likelihood that he was if not actually robbing the cradle then at least casing the cradle for a future heist. As the Magnolias move on—strands of gossip merging, voices rising and falling, harsh laughter ringing out, wine glasses being refilled—no one notices as Sybil McPhillips quietly slips out the door.

10

During my walk home from the secret garden, I end up literally sopping. Northern California has a nice, cool climate, so I’ve never experienced weather like Savannah’s. Just walking outside is like diving into a bowl of thick, gardenia-flavored soup. I never knew that a bra could get sweaty, but apparently boobs perspire when heated to 102 degrees. It’s so bad that eventually I duck into a driveway, take off my bra altogether, and stuff it into my bag. When I dart out again, I spot a lady watching me from her porch across the street. I just wave and give her my best Magnolia League smile.

My grandmother’s mansion appears to be empty as I walk in. “Miss Lee?” I yell. Nothing. Thank you, sweet Jesus. I run upstairs, unzip my backpack, and dump all the new clothes onto the bed. Blazers by Theory, pants by Joe’s Jeans, a sweater by something called Inhabit. Inhabit what? Am I supposed to live in this thing? Who’s Joe? Rock what Republic? I shake my head. Guess I’m not quite getting this fashion thing yet.

I shuffle to the pretty little antique desk that overlooks the garden and sit down in front of the MacBook that Miss Lee got for me as a welcome present.

“You’ll need it for your studies,” she said. “I expect good grades out of you. Also, you can talk to your friends on the screen. I’m not privy to how it works, but I’m told all the children do it. Khaki’s granddaughter apparently chats with her friend in Japan.”

Madison confirmed this today on our shopping trip. “Oh yeah. Mokiko. She’s awesome. We trade sex tips. They have a whole different way of doing things over there.”

“Huh,” I said, changing the subject. Because you know what? I don’t need sex tips. I may never need sex tips. Reggie and I didn’t