Bingo Read online

  Praise for Rita Mae Brown’s delightful novels featuring the unforgettable Hunsenmeir sisters …

  BINGO

  “This is vintage Brown.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Delightful … Rita Mae Brown is still a hoot.”

  —Philadelphia Inquirer

  “Bingo beams with Brown’s fondness for her characters and her delight in the oddness of the world of Runnymede.”

  —Boston Herald

  “Joyously comic.”

  —People

  “Longtime fans will welcome back Nickel Smith, this time coping with a surprising passion.… New ones will flock to Bingo’s vividly drawn characters (like the lustful Hunsenmeir sisters) and tart, loving humor.”

  —Self

  “Hilarious, superbly written fiction.”

  —Booklist

  “Genuinely funny.”

  —Los Angeles Times

  LOOSE LIPS

  “[Brown] does an admirable job of portraying the effects World War II has on a small American town.… [The] characterizations of Louise and Juts are acutely realistic.”

  —Arizona Republic

  “Brimming with Brown’s comic sense of social posturing and missteps, her rich novel lets readers laugh with her at the personal foibles that seem to loom so large in small-town settings.”

  —Booklist

  “Time has honed Brown’s literary skills but not lessened her love for these characters.”

  —Library Journal

  “Surprises … come from Rita Mae Brown’s comic timing and her affection for eccentrics.”

  —Seattle Times

  SIX OF ONE

  “Joyous, passionate, and funny. What a pleasure!”

  —Washington Post Book World

  “No matter how quirky or devilish, Brown’s people cavort in an atmosphere of tenderness.… It is refreshing to encounter this celebration of human energy.”

  —Chicago Sun-Times

  “Brown has some of the same effervescent yet secure trust in her local characters that Eudora Welty feels for hers.… When history nicks them, they slap right back.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “A lively and very lovely book.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  Books by Rita Mae Brown

  with Sneaky Pie Brown

  WISH YOU WERE HERE

  REST IN PIECES

  MURDER AT MONTICELLO

  PAY DIRT

  MURDER, SHE MEOWED

  MURDER ON THE PROWL

  CAT ON THE SCENT

  SNEAKY PIE’S COOKBOOK FOR MYSTERY LOVERS

  PAWING THROUGH THE PAST

  CLAWS AND EFFECT

  CATCH AS CAT CAN

  THE TAIL OF THE TIP-OFF

  WHISKER OF EVIL

  CAT’S EYEWITNESS

  SOUR PUSS

  PUSS ’N CAHOOTS

  THE PURRFECT MURDER

  Books by Rita Mae Brown

  THE HAND THAT CRADLES THE ROCK

  SONGS TO A HANDSOME WOMAN

  THE PLAIN BROWN RAPPER

  RUBYFRUIT JUNGLE

  IN HER DAY

  SIX OF ONE

  SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT

  SUDDEN DEATH

  HIGH HEARTS

  STARTING FROM SCRATCH:

  A DIFFERENT KIND OF WRITERS’ MANUAL

  BINGO

  VENUS ENVY

  DOLLEY: A NOVEL OF DOLLEY MADISON IN LOVE AND WAR

  RIDING SHOTGUN

  RITA WILL: MEMOIR OF A LITERARY RABBLE-ROUSER

  LOOSE LIPS

  OUTFOXED

  HOTSPUR

  FULL CRY

  THE HUNT BALL

  THE HOUNDS AND THE FURY

  BINGO

  A Bantam Book

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Bantam Books hardcover edition published November 1988

  Bantam mass market edition / October 1989

  Bantam trade paperback edition / July 1999

  Bantam trade paperback reissue / February 2008

  Published by

  Bantam Dell

  A Division of Random House, Inc.

  New York, New York

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint the lyrics from: “Tea for Two” by Vincent Youmans and Irving Caesar. Copyright © 1924 WB Music Corp. & Irving Caesar Music Corp. All rights reserved. Used by permission. “Let’s Do It” by Cole Porter. Copyright © Warner Bros., Inc. (Renewed). All rights reserved. Used by permission.

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 1988 by Speakeasy Productions, Inc.

  Illustration on this page copyright © 1988 by Laura Maestro

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 88-14143

  Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-79404-8

  www.bantamdell.com

  v3.1

  Dedicated with Affection

  and Remembered Laughter

  to

  the Class of 1962

  Fort Lauderdale High School

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Introduction

  Map

  Chapter 1 - Flying a Kite: Wednesday … 25 March, 1987

  Chapter 2 - A Migraine at Mojo’s: Thursday … 26 March

  Chapter 3 - A New Man In Town: Friday … 27 March

  Chapter 4 - More Leg: Saturday … 28 March

  Chapter 5 - Bumblebee Hill: Sunday … 29 March

  Chapter 6 - Hair-Do City: Monday … 30 March

  Chapter 7 - My Cheating Heart: Tuesday … 31 March

  Chapter 8 - Julia, The Spy: Wednesday … 1 April

  Chapter 9 - The Stations of the Cross a Moment with Aunt Louise: Thursday … 2 April

  Chapter 10 - The New Madonna at Saint Rose of Lima’s: Friday … 3 April

  Chapter 11 - Louise Muscles Nickel: Saturday … 4 April

  Chapter 12 - Nickel Makes a Promise To Mr. Pierre: Sunday … 5 April

  Chapter 13 - High Fashion Comes to the Clarion: Monday … 6 April

  Chapter 14 - Nickel Breaks Her Promise: Tuesday … 7 April

  Chapter 15 - Mr. Pierre Is Pissed and Ursie Pays a Call: Wednesday … 8 April

  Chapter 16 - Appomattox and Lunch with Michelle: Thursday … 9 April

  Chapter 17 - A Love Triangle at Bingo: Friday … 10 April

  Chapter 18 - Louise Is Abducted: Saturday … 11 April

  Chapter 19 - Fort Sumter Remembered: Sunday … 12 April

  Chapter 20 - Nickel Fights with Juts: Monday … 13 April

  Chapter 21 - Nickel Bites the Bullet: Tuesday … 14 April

  Chapter 22 - Popcorn: Wednesday … 15 April

  Chapter 23 - Secrets: Thursday … 16 April

  Chapter 24 - Renegade Bingo: Friday … 17 April

  Chapter 25 - Ursie Has the Bit In Her Teeth: Saturday … 18 April

  Chapter 26 - Blessed Easter: Sunday … 19 April

  Chapter 27 - Love Lifted Me: Monday … 20 April

  Chapter 28 - Love Lifted Me Higher: Tuesday … 21 April

  Chapter 29 - Louise Learns the Ropes: Wednesday … 22 April

  Chapter 30 - A Visit to Dad: Thursday … 23 April

  Chapter 31 - The Big Day: Friday … 24 April

  Chapter 32 - The Hair of the Dog: Saturday … 25 April

  Chapter 33 - Jackson Vs. Diz: Sunday … 26 April

  Chapter 34 - A Sex Story Breaks at the Clarion: Monday … 27 April

  Chapter 35 - Unwelcome Knowledge: Tuesday … 28 April

  Chapter 36 - Mother Drops a Bombshell: Wednesday … 29 April

  Chap
ter 37 - I Drop a Bombshell Myself: Thursday … 30 April

  Chapter 38 - The Clarion Changes Hands: Friday … 1 May

  Chapter 39 - Ursula Humbled: Saturday … 2 May

  Chapter 40 - Reflections on Martin Luther: Sunday … 3 May

  Chapter 41 - Blue Monday: Monday … 4 May

  Chapter 42 - Fate: Tuesday … 5 May

  Chapter 43 - Overeducated and Unemployed: Wednesday … 6 May

  Chapter 44 - Gin: Thursday … 7 May

  Chapter 45 - Blowout Bingo: Friday … 8 May

  Chapter 46 - The Birth of the Mercury: Saturday … 9 May

  Chapter 47 - Here Comes the Bride: Sunday … 10 May

  Chapter 48 - Her Mothership: Monday … 14 December

  Chapter 49 - Flying a Kite: Friday … 25 March, 1988

  About the Author

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I wish to thank the following people for helping me write Bingo. First and foremost, my researcher, Claudia Garthwaite, deserves my appreciation. She spends a goodly portion of her time buried in the stacks of the library. My agent, Wendy Weil, does all that an agent is supposed to do and more: She makes me laugh. Noirin Lucas, Wendy’s assistant, also contributes to my good spirits. Beverly Lewis, my editor, makes the work so easy for me that I can only wish an editor like her to every writer in America. Bantam’s copy editor, Betsy Cenedella, keeps me in line and gives me grammar lessons. Sally Williams, Judy Hilsinger, and Sandi Mendelson take care of me on the road, and those of you in publishing know that I’m not bragging when I say these are the best publicity people in the business.

  Betty Burns does her best to keep me organized.

  I must also thank Susan Scott, Cynthia Cooper, Muffin Barnes, Gloria Fennell, and the gang at Darby’s Folly for providing me good companionship and good riding. Special thanks to Ellie Wood Baxter, Carolyn and Ken Chapman, Pat and Kay Butterfield, our wonderful Master, Jill Summers, our president, Paul Summers, and the membership of Farmington Hunt Club for being themselves. Together we can escape the twentieth century.

  The unsung heroes of an author’s life also deserve accolades: the sales staff and the telephone sales staff of Bantam Books.

  To those of you who have read other novels of mine it will come as no surprise that I must thank the animals in my life. I don’t believe humans should be separate from other forms of living consciousness and I learn from animals. So I thank Cazenovia, Buddha, Sneaky Pie, Pewter, and Muggins, the cats. I thank Juts and Liška, the dogs, and I thank Freebooter and Scribble, my horses. I would also like to thank the horses of friends: Twinkie, Fetch, and Colors.

  INTRODUCTION

  Since this is a work of fiction, I’ve taken advantage of the freedom of the form. Mentioned within the text are the PTL scandal as well as the Gary Hart scandal. Both events are inaccurately dated. The PTL mess is off by one month and the Hart debacle is off by a few days. Apart from those two news stories, the other events are as found in Facts on File.

  One of the chief joys of fiction is that to some extent the reader is a co-creator. In a film or theatrical production you see the people. In a novel or radio show you must imagine them—their voices, their gestures. Every art form has its advantages and disadvantages, and I think having the reader participate is an advantage of fiction.

  Apart from the fun of participation, this effort on the reader’s part forms a bond between reader and author which may be akin to the bond between audience and performer in the theater.

  I have been fortunate in my readers. Not only do you faithfully buy my novels, you show up by the hundreds and sometimes even thousands to hear me speak and you send me blizzards of fan mail. I am grateful. Who could ask for anything more?

  Well, I am going to ask for more. I’m going to ask you to consider carefully your own creativity. Many of you set aside your creativity for “practical” reasons. It isn’t within the scope of an introduction to list painfully why and how people abandon their imaginations but it is within the scope of this introduction to encourage you to find yourself again. You haven’t lost your creativity, your imagination—you’ve simply misplaced it.

  There are as many different ways to recover that creativity as there are readers, but allow me to suggest something that will benefit each and every one of you. Keep notes on your own life. Call it a diary if you like but it’s much more than that. Write down or record on tape your observations and emotions as well as the events of your time. Don’t forget your sense of humor while you do this.

  If you take even fifteen minutes a day to perform this labor I think your imagination will start cranking up again. For those of you who have managed to hang on to your creativity, this exercise will give you some perspective and insight into yourself and your community.

  No one will ever see the world the way you see it. No one will ever have exactly the same experiences in exactly the same sequence. You are unique not just because of your genetic makeup but because of every single thing that has happened to you or that you have caused to happen. Don’t let that consciousness slip off the face of the earth with your death. If you don’t want to share yourself with the living, then leave something behind for those arriving on this troubled planet after you’ve left it.

  You might wonder why I’m impassioned about your creativity. There are two reasons for this. The first is that I will be enriched by your creativity. Whether or not you publish a book or sell a painting isn’t what I mean. What I mean is that activating your imagination is going to make you more exciting to yourself and to others. The second reason is that imaginative people forge new solutions to old problems. Right now we need every thinking person to step forward and contribute to a safe and sane future. You are part of that process. I celebrate your contribution.

  As always,

  Rita Mae Brown

  February 28, 1987

  Charlottesville, Virginia

  1

  FLYING A KITE

  WEDNESDAY … 25 MARCH, 1987

  Run faster.”

  “I’m running as fast as I can.” I was too. “Mom, call off Goodyear and Lolly Mabel. I keep tripping over them.”

  “Don’t blame it on the dogs. You don’t know how to fly a kite.” Mother did, however, order the dogs to sit by her.

  Goodyear, a huge, black male Chow Chow, was originally called Jet Pilot but he grew fatter and fatter, and hence the name Goodyear. Lolly Mabel, his gorgeous red daughter, was my dog, a gift for my birthday two years ago. Lolly and Pewter, my cat, were bosom companions but Pewter didn’t like Goodyear. Not that Goodyear wasn’t the world’s second-best dog, Lolly Mabel being the first, but Mom had taught him to howl and play dead at the mention of her sister’s name, Louise. We had to be careful to call Louise “Wheezie” or “Wheeze” in front of the dog lest Louise discover yet another of her baby sister’s blasphemies. Well, one day I forgot. Luckily, Aunt Louise wasn’t around but Pewter was. When the dreaded name Louise escaped my lips, Goodyear screamed bloody murder, then flopped down “dead.” Pewter, appalled, ran under Mother’s front porch and it took a good hour to coax her out.

  The kite shuddered in the air but wouldn’t rise. “Dammit!” I continued to pump my legs.

  “Gimme that.” Mother grabbed the string and ran across the lawn. At eighty-two, Julia Ellen Hunsenmeir Smith could still run, and the kite fluted upward. Mother walked backwards now, jerking the string, urging the red kite, with the tail’s many bow ties, higher.

  A screech around the corner snapped us away from the graceful sight of the kite to the less graceful sight of Louise taking the corner on two wheels.

  “I thought I was going to pick her up. You can’t let her drive.”

  “She does what she wants.” Juts observed Louise’s lurching halt in front of her house.

  Aunt Louise drove a 1952 Chrysler. Her deceased husband, Paul “Pearlie” Trumbull, hated General Motors, hated the auto business, and hated Detroit. He used to declare that they were nothing better than Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves
and every year they’d jack up the price on cars. As it happened, he was right. “If you want to get back on your feet, miss two car payments” was one of Pearlie’s favorite expressions. Well, he never missed a payment, because he drove his Model A Ford until it died around him, but during those decades he saved and saved and then he went out and bought three identical 1952 Chryslers. He drove the one, intending to use the other two for parts, and he figured that if he took good care of his car, which he did, that Chrysler would be driven by his grandchildren and Detroit be damned.

  Except for the tires, which Louise wore out with alarming frequency, the black Chrysler looked spanking new. The door opened and shut with a thud. Louise emerged in her blue-haired glory.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “Well, what?” Mother replied.

  “Do you like it?” Louise stood motionless like a geriatric Greek statue.

  “Like what?” Mother was paying more attention to her kite than to Louise.

  “You getting cataracts, Julia? My hair! Do you like my hair!”

  “Looks like it does every Wednesday when you hit up the Curl ’n Twirl.”

  “It does not! You are blind. Nickel, what do you think?”

  On the spot, I fibbed. “I like it fine. It’s a little shorter and more youthful-looking.”

  “Thank you. At least someone around here has the courtesy to pay attention to me even if it is only my adopted niece. Blood sister doesn’t pay attention to anyone but herself. What are you doing out here flying a kite, anyway? You’re too old for that stuff.”

  “It’s your birthday, so I’d lay off the age jokes.”

  “You haven’t even wished me a happy birthday!” The shadow of a pout hung on Louise’s cerise lower lip.

  “I was going to wait until the party.” Juts reeled in her kite.

  “What’d you get me?”

  “Wait until the party.”

  “Give it to me now. I don’t like presents in front of strangers.”