Lester’s truck and his year-old car to the American Cancer Society. She thought it might buy her friend some good luck. That left her with her Mercedes and an old Cadillac.
Lester had bought the Cadillac new in 1967, the first in a long string of Caddies he bought over the years. He babied it, keeping it looking as if it had just rolled off the dealer’s showroom floor until the day he died. It was the only one of his cars he never sold or gave away when newer models came out. The car hadn’t been touched since the last time Lester drove it. It just sat in the garage taking up space and reminding Barbara Jean of the past.
One day when she arrived at the museum to work a volunteer shift in her butter-churning outfit, Barbara Jean discovered that a sign had been posted near Benjamin Harrison’s flag. The sign asked for volunteers to contribute something to the annual Christmas auction. She offered the Cadillac.
Judging from the shocked reaction she received when she contacted the committee putting together the auction, a mint condition 1967 Fleetwood was a little more than they had in mind. They had been expecting donations more along the lines of handcrafted needlepoint chair cushions, beeswax candles, or gift baskets full of homemade strawberry preserves in quaintly bonneted jars. But once they understood that Barbara Jean really intended to donate the car itself, not a ride in it or some sort of leasing arrangement, they eagerly accepted her gift. In return, she took them up on their offer to have a room of the museum, the one with the Indian artifacts, renamed the Lester Maxberry Exhibition Hall. They had wanted to name the room after Barbara Jean, but she declined the honor. The Fleetwood had been Lester’s baby. And he had been the one with happy memories of it, not her.
Barbara Jean had been living at Big Earl and Miss Thelma’s house for about a month when she first saw the car. She was walking home from her job at the salon when she saw a crowd gathered across the street outside the All-You-Can-Eat. Clarice stepped out of the knot of people and called her name.
When she got closer, she saw that the dozen or so people in the street were clustered around the nicest Cadillac she had ever seen. In fact, it was the only brand-new Cadillac Barbara Jean had ever seen outside of TV commercials. It was a beauty, so shiny that it was hard to look directly at it in the afternoon sun. It was sky blue, and the brilliant gloss of the car’s paint job reflected the clouds above so perfectly that looking down at the hood almost made you feel dizzy, as if you didn’t know which way was up. The back end of the car was long and so sleek that it seemed likely you would cut your finger if you ran it along the sharp fins. Occasionally one of the people circling the car in admiration would lean in to exhale on the bright finish and watch the oval of their condensed breath appear and then evaporate.
Only one person in the crowd dared make any real physical contact with the car. That was the Cadillac’s owner, Mr. Lester Maxberry.
Barbara Jean knew Lester, of course. He was famous. At one time or another, he had employed half of the boys in her high school in his landscaping business. James Henry worked for him all through high school and his two years of college. James worked for Lester so long that everyone expected him to take over the business one day. They went on expecting it until James surprised them all by becoming a cop.
Lester sometimes came into the All-You-Can-Eat with James and sat with the young people at the window table. He was always nice, courteous, and charming in an avuncular way. He would talk sports with the guys, or dispense advice, or compliment the girls. But he usually didn’t stick around for long. He would say, “Let me get going, so you young people can enjoy your evening,” and then he’d tip the fedora he always wore and leave while they objected.
Barbara Jean enjoyed Lester’s company, but she never thought of him in a romantic way, even though just about every other woman she knew did. He had a small, compact body and a long face with droopy eyes that most of the girls thought were sexy. He also