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Authors: Cathy Holton
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andconsiderable influence to ensure that no local lawyer agreed to take the Meeks case. But Meeks's parents went to Grace Pearson, and when the story broke, the scandal it caused reached all the way to the capital and beyond, thus forever squashing Charles Broadwell's plans for a political career.
Virginia shook out the paper and raised it to eye level. Despite her determination not to, she began to read. Pearson's column today was on the inequality of women in the workforce. The whole time she read, Virginia kept her top lip curled in a scornful grimace.
Having survived the treacheries of a man's world, Virginia had little compassion for the less determined members of her own sex. She had never had a close female friendship, she gave her money to preachers who preached against the independence of women, voted against legislation that promoted sexual equality, and was a staunch member of the Republican Party. Indeed, it was during her stint as president of the local Republican Women's Club that her secret dislike of Grace Pearson had flared into open warfare. Virginia believed that a lady should never disgrace herself by allowing her name in print, but angered by one of Pearson's columns, and emboldened by the example set by her own personal hero, Phyllis Schlafly, Virginia had responded in a quarter-page letter to the editor. She had refuted Pearson's liberal viewpoint with an argument no sane, feminine, well- bred Christian woman could possibly deny as truth. Rather than retiring from the field in shame, Grace Pearson had mounted her own counterattack, one that began with the bold-faced, italicized words,
My Dear Madame President
.
Realizing she could never win, Virginia had eventually tired of the game, refusing to respond openly to any of Pearson's jibes. Instead, during Bill Clinton's tumultuous years, she had taken to sending Pearson political cartoons that portrayed Clinton's relationships with Monica Lewinsky and Paula Jones in a less than favorable light. Since George Bush ascended the throne, Pearson had reciprocated, sending Virginia political cartoons and pages from a calendar that parodied the president's speeches. The one she received last week had read, “We've got to make sure there is more affordable homes,” and the one yesterday read, “God loves you, and I love you. And you can count on both of us as a powerful message that people who wonder about their future can hear.” Virginia saw nothing wrong with the last one. She thought it was rather sweet.
She closed the newspaper defiantly and rose and went over to the trashcompactor to throw it away. In the overall scheme of things, Grace Pearson was just a minor irritation. Virginia had more important things to think about. Tomorrow was Nita's wedding day, and Virginia had to decide what she was going to wear and how she was going to conduct herself. She had a lot of plotting and planning to do if she was ever going to ferret out what Nita had done to Charles to make him agree to that ridiculous divorce settlement without so much as a whimper. Once she figured that out, then she'd know how to even the score.
With any luck, and a good deal of effort, she'd know the truth tomorrow.
T HE DAY OF THE WEDDING DAWNED BRIGHT AND SUNNY . There was frost on the grass, but by nine o'clock it had warmed up to close to sixty-eight degrees. Lavonne and Eadie showed up a little early to help set up the buffet, but by twelve-thirty Nita was still running around the yard dressed in sweatpants with her hair done up in big rollers. The ceremony was set to begin at two o'clock, followed by a buffet and live music.
“Shouldn't you be getting dressed?” Lavonne said, when she saw her. “Shouldn't you be resting?”
“I should be doing a lot of things,” Nita said, looking like she might cry. “I told Jimmy Lee and the kids to get those lanterns strung and all the dog toys put up and they're just now getting around to it. I told them yesterday to get this yard
Virginia shook out the paper and raised it to eye level. Despite her determination not to, she began to read. Pearson's column today was on the inequality of women in the workforce. The whole time she read, Virginia kept her top lip curled in a scornful grimace.
Having survived the treacheries of a man's world, Virginia had little compassion for the less determined members of her own sex. She had never had a close female friendship, she gave her money to preachers who preached against the independence of women, voted against legislation that promoted sexual equality, and was a staunch member of the Republican Party. Indeed, it was during her stint as president of the local Republican Women's Club that her secret dislike of Grace Pearson had flared into open warfare. Virginia believed that a lady should never disgrace herself by allowing her name in print, but angered by one of Pearson's columns, and emboldened by the example set by her own personal hero, Phyllis Schlafly, Virginia had responded in a quarter-page letter to the editor. She had refuted Pearson's liberal viewpoint with an argument no sane, feminine, well- bred Christian woman could possibly deny as truth. Rather than retiring from the field in shame, Grace Pearson had mounted her own counterattack, one that began with the bold-faced, italicized words,
My Dear Madame President
.
Realizing she could never win, Virginia had eventually tired of the game, refusing to respond openly to any of Pearson's jibes. Instead, during Bill Clinton's tumultuous years, she had taken to sending Pearson political cartoons that portrayed Clinton's relationships with Monica Lewinsky and Paula Jones in a less than favorable light. Since George Bush ascended the throne, Pearson had reciprocated, sending Virginia political cartoons and pages from a calendar that parodied the president's speeches. The one she received last week had read, “We've got to make sure there is more affordable homes,” and the one yesterday read, “God loves you, and I love you. And you can count on both of us as a powerful message that people who wonder about their future can hear.” Virginia saw nothing wrong with the last one. She thought it was rather sweet.
She closed the newspaper defiantly and rose and went over to the trashcompactor to throw it away. In the overall scheme of things, Grace Pearson was just a minor irritation. Virginia had more important things to think about. Tomorrow was Nita's wedding day, and Virginia had to decide what she was going to wear and how she was going to conduct herself. She had a lot of plotting and planning to do if she was ever going to ferret out what Nita had done to Charles to make him agree to that ridiculous divorce settlement without so much as a whimper. Once she figured that out, then she'd know how to even the score.
With any luck, and a good deal of effort, she'd know the truth tomorrow.
T HE DAY OF THE WEDDING DAWNED BRIGHT AND SUNNY . There was frost on the grass, but by nine o'clock it had warmed up to close to sixty-eight degrees. Lavonne and Eadie showed up a little early to help set up the buffet, but by twelve-thirty Nita was still running around the yard dressed in sweatpants with her hair done up in big rollers. The ceremony was set to begin at two o'clock, followed by a buffet and live music.
“Shouldn't you be getting dressed?” Lavonne said, when she saw her. “Shouldn't you be resting?”
“I should be doing a lot of things,” Nita said, looking like she might cry. “I told Jimmy Lee and the kids to get those lanterns strung and all the dog toys put up and they're just now getting around to it. I told them yesterday to get this yard
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