Heart of Ice

Chapter Thirty-one

Saturday at the Beta Zeta House was filled with breakout sessions and pep talks. The forty girls that made up the current membership of the Dixon chapter were at their breaking points. Four were supine on the twin sofas; three more were curled up in a heap next to the turned-off big screen. Motivation and education were hard work. They’d worked on “Building Stronger Bonds with Your Sisters” and “Blonde on Blonde: How Recruiting Sisters of Your Own Hair Color Works Best.”

Jenna hated that one. She presented the material exactly as written—which she was required to do—but with obvious disdain for the message. It clearly smacked of racism. She caught Midori’s eyes and they felt like ice picks boring into her own.

“All right, sisters,” she said, “we’re done for the day. We’ve accomplished a lot, but we have more to do. Tomorrow, each of you will bring down your top three outfits for next week’s recruitment. I want to see an outfit in our colors—taffy and mango—and an outfit in black accessorized with gold.”

“What about the third one? You said three outfits,” said a girl from the back of the room.

Jenna could finally see some lights come on in the brains of the women clad in an array of Juicy velour tracksuits. “Someone’s paying attention. Thank you! The third outfit is your choice. It can be anything you want it to be as long as it is a skirt and sweater. We want you to show your individuality. That’s what makes all of us special.”

Again, it was a line that Jenna loathed, but she did what she was asked and followed the program.

As the girls filed out for the evening, Jenna went upstairs to her room and dialed home.

“It’s me.”

“Hi, baby,” Emily said. “How’s it going in the Deep South?”

“How’s it going in the deep freeze?”

Emily laughed. “Things are OK here. Moving forward with the Crawford investigation. We’re at a snail’s pace, but we are making headway.”

“How’s Chris?”

Emily waited a second. “He’s here,” she whispered.

“Mom, that’s so cool. Why don’t you tell him ‘yes’? Don’t mess this up, OK?”

“Since when did you turn into the mother, here? That’s my job.”

“Since you started acting like a big baby. Kidding.”

But she wasn’t of course. Jenna felt that her mother’s decision to not make a commitment to the man she loved was nothing short of stupid. It was about pride. About being hurt again. About all sorts of things that discarded the part of the equation that could end with a “happily ever after.”

“OK,” Emily said. “What’s going on there?”

“Same old, same old. These girls got themselves into a bad situation and now they have to rebuild. We’ve been working on what needs to be done all day and I think I’m getting through to them with what’s really important.”

“You mean, purses and shoes to match?”

Jenna knew when her mom was pulling her chain. “No, I was thinking more about when to wear an up-do and when to wear a half-ponytail.” She let out a laugh. “The girls are great, but this job completely sucks.”

“Hang in there. Summer will be here soon and we’ll figure out something else before you head off to law school.”

“I have to pass the LSATs in March first.”

“That’s no problem. You’re a smart girl. I love you.”

“Love you more, Mom. Bye.”

Jenna snapped her phone shut and looked around the room. Everything was in order. Her laptop was cable-locked to the sink. She had the complete data file of every living BZ member in the United States, which made it a security concern. She touched up her makeup and ran her fingers through her hair, giving it a little volume.

I’m in the South, and no matter what they say, hair is bigger down here, she thought, a mist of hairspray falling to hold everything in place.

There was a knock at the door. Sheraton and Midori were there to take her out to dinner at the Boarding House, a restaurant downtown that was popular with college students yet nice enough to take your mother. A little expensive, but the chapter had an account. The meal was on the BZs.

“Hi-hi!” Midori said, seemingly over the hurt of the presentation. “Ready to go out?”

Sheraton pushed the door open. “I’m soooo hungry! Let’s get going! I saw your rental car.” She paused and made a sad face. “We’ll take my Lexus.”

Jenna knew she was in for a night of mind-numbing conversation, but she was getting paid for it. What’s more, she knew the food would be good. She’d Googled the restaurant before she left Cherrystone.

Just as they were about to leave the house, a voice called out. The three young women stopped.

“Aren’t y’all little dolls?”

Shelby Barker’s sweet voice was dipped in cornmeal, as Southern as could be.

“I’m Shelby Barker, but y’all can call me Ma Barker.” She waited a second. “I know, I know. But everybody else does!”

Ma Barker had been the house director for almost twenty years. She was a warm woman, rather large, with spun-sugar hair and a penchant for housedresses that had to be from an old Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. They were shiny and full. Jenna had talked to Ma Barker on the phone the week before Christmas, letting her know she’d be coming.

“Don’t call me the house director, either. I’m a housemother, and that’s good enough for me.”

Jenna gave her a warm hug. She couldn’t help herself. Ma Barker was like a kind sponge for good feelings.

“You are a good hugger,” Ma Barker said, smiling and taking it all in. “You have the kind of spirit this place needs.”

Jenna returned the smile. “I hope so.”

Ma Barker cocked her head and looked over at the TV lounge, a half dozen girls staring blankly at a reality show about Hugh Hefner’s Playboy mansion. “Ya’ll gonna kick some ass? ’Cause these girls need it. I’ve been here longer than any of them have been alive and I’ve never seen a lazier bunch of girls. No wonder this place is going to hell in a handbasket.”

Sheraton and Midori stood mute and Ma Barker didn’t seem to care one whit about them and how they might regard her assessment of the house.

Jenna liked Ma Barker and the “eyes and ears” part of her job would have called for her to let Nationals know that Ma had spoken of her girls in a “less than flattering manner.” But she wouldn’t do that. The lady was probably one hundred percent correct. She lived with the girls every day. The women back at Nationals were living in a fantasy world of white gloves, teas, and closed-mouth kissing.

“That’s why I’m here.” Jenna said.

The old lady proceeded to tell Jenna about the house, the fact that it was built of the “finest materials of its time, but, well, things have gotten better since then.” She indicated that Jenna would be staying in the only room with a private bathroom.

“The hot water heater has been givin’ me fits, but I think we’ve got it fixed now.”

“I hate a cold shower,” Jenna said.

Ma Barker indicated she understood. “That’s not the problem. The dang thing had been making a racket when it heated up. Hot water’s no problem. But sleeping next to that contraption has been a nightmare for the last few moms who’ve stayed in there. We got it fixed, I think. I hope. I really do.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will be. Now, go ahead and head out to dinner. All y’all could use some meat on your bones.”

“Thanks, Ma Barker,” Jenna said, trying very hard not to laugh at the name.

“You’re welcome. Now get. OK? Get some food!”