Editing Rockin' On The Porch

<span style="color:#800000">'''''Terri's a joy to RP with, since her characterizations are just wonderful to watch. Thanks, Terri!--Maer'''''</span> <br> <br>
 

Natchez, Mississippi, in the summer... it's damn warm. At 4:15 in the afternoon Gramma Willie's porch is occupied by some of the elders of the area and several people who may work for themselves or else have reason to be sitting in a comfy rocker sipping sweet tea. Cuz there ain't no such thing as unsweet tea in this house. No way, no how.<br><br>

Rocking back and forth lazily beneath one of the ceiling fans installed on the massive wraparound porch, the blonde is watching the groups of people conversing but is currently not taking part. Instead she has her head leaned back against the chair and she's sipping at the cold glass in front of her. If one didn't know what year it was, they might expect to find all these people in hoop skirts and wide-brimmed hats. Instead it's sundresses and sandals. And there is a wide-brimmed hat with a deep green ribbon on it sitting next to the blonde on a small table.<br><br>



Saturday, 25 Jun 2011<br>
Somewhere on the streets of Natchez<br>
1600hrs, local time<br><br>

Irina had parked her car a few blocks away and had spent the hours since morning exploring Natchez on foot. She'd already checked out the Natchez-Under-The-Hill area, intrigued by its Barbary Coast-style origins. At the present, she retraced her steps to the sidewalk in front of the Victorian house bearing the sign, The Cabbage Rose, and the sight of the shady porch and the promise of something wet on ice decided it for her. Without further thought she turned left and walked right up to the steps and giving a nod to the ladies in their rockers, she went inside to inquire as to how to get that drink.<br><br>

It was the work of a mere minute, delivered up with the hospitality and charm she was coming to expect here, and iced tea in hand, she returned to the porch and looked for an unoccupied rocker. She found one beside a table with a ribboned hat on it and with a smile and a nod in passing, gratefully sat down. Her feet nearly melted with relief. To be sure, most everything else on her had melted already. Damn, you're gettin' soft, DiSanti. Day was, you could've walked your beat without feeling wiped at the end of the day. She sipped her tea, found it sweet and sucked it down anyway, relishing how it slid down her throat. The glass was already weeping condensation and when she'd finished it off, she put it against her forehead and sighed. If I'm moving down here, I wonder if I can get the night shift. It's only June, it’s hot as hell, and I don't know if I'll survive August. She closed her eyes and opened her ears and listened to the women on the porch talk, the better to get the inside track of the neighborhood.<br><br>

The sandy blonde in the rocking chair on the other side of the small table nods slightly in greeting and then smiles faintly. In a gentle, charming drawl she murmurs, "Welcome to Gramma Willie's. Y'all are lookin' like you're about to keel over." Her eyes skim over the newcomer's face, her gaze direct. "We don't get a lot of tourists quite this early. Are you new to the area?" And then she stops and smiles. "Forgive me, I've such bad manners. My name is Caroline, it's a pleasure." She doesn't offer her hand, though.<br><br>

Irina opened her eyes and lowered her glass.<br><br>

"Not a problem," she said, noting the woman's face, hair and eyes, a second-nature cataloging of her physical description: dark blonde on blue, 5'4", 120, Caucasian. She noted the lack of a handshake and gave the woman a polite smile and nod instead. "I'm Irina DiSanti and I'm thinking of relocating here. Have you been in Natchez long, Caroline?"<br><br>

Her lips quirk into an amused smile, her drawl still in evidence. "Sure have," Caroline replies. "Since the day I was born, barrin' some time near Atlanta for college and travel. It's a nice place to live. I hope you're enjoyin' your stay."<br><br>

"The people sure are nice," Irina said with a breath of a laugh. "Not entirely sure about the weather though. Will it get any hotter than this?" Stick to the weather. Nothing offensive about the topic.<br><br>

Caroline's laughter is just as cultured as her voice. "It won't get too much hotter -- July and August are the hottest months, but it's relatively temperate. Some days cooler than others. Of course, cool is relative, dependin' on where you're comin' from," she adds. Her gaze remains steady on the other woman's face.<br><br>

“City girl,” Irina said, picking up the cue. “Manhattan. It gets hot and muggy there too, but Mississippi is in a class all by itself. Does silk breathe better in this weather or should I invest in cotton?”<br><br>

"I would definitely invest in some cotton," Caroline agrees lazily. "The humidity is what will kill you around here. It's why a lot of people take a rest in the afternoons -- it's amazing how much help just sitting in the shade can be." She picks up her drink and sips from it. "How long are you in town?" she asks curiously.<br><br>

Irina filed the tip away and sipped the melt water from her glass before answering. "I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon. Depending on how things go, I may be back," she said. If the heat doesn't kill me first. "Job interview is what brought me down. Did you like Atlanta when you were there?"<br><br>

"Well enough," Caroline admits. "It was college. I had a wonderful time there." She grins. "Tons of adventure, of course. But I didn't like livin' in such a large city. Too many people, and far far too many people in a rush all the time." She shrugs. "Yankee transplants," she teases with a twinkle. "They never learn how to slow down."<br><br>

"I've been there once or twice and you're right, it's faster-paced than one would think. Had this incredible bookstore. New and used, you could get lost in it, it's that big. Oxford, I think it was called." She didn't mention the Strand on Broadway and 12th. It would have been too much like bragging and they'd only just met. "I think it's closed its doors, though. I couldn't find it the last time I went."<br><br>

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that one except by name," Caroline admits. "My cousins mentioned it once, but they closed years and years ago, long before I went to Atlanta." She tips her head and studies the woman sitting in the rocker. "So what's made you decide to maybe move here of all places from Manhattan?" she asks. "And of course, if that's too personal a question, I apologize."<br><br>

Not at all," Irina said truthfully. "I'd had to change jobs and thought a change of scene should go with. I really haven't traveled since college and I found that I missed it." Half a lie. She’d enjoyed travelling when she'd been in college, but once a rookie she'd hated every minute off the clock. But you're not in the force anymore, you. A change of scene will do you good. It's either that or die by inches back home.<br><br>

There are soft footsteps on the porch from the direction of the front door, behind Caroline, and she ignores it in favor of saying to Irina, "Well, I hope you find our town to your liking." It's only when a teenaged brunette touches her on the shoulder that Caroline looks up and smiles at the newcomer.<br><br>

"Can I refill your tea, ladies?" the girl asks with a smile.<br><br>

"Yes, please." Irina preferred her tea unsweetened but loved how it chilled her insides. She wasn't about to quibble and based on what she'd seen so far at breakfast and lunch, she suspected unsweetened was an unknown species here. "It's just the thing in this weather."<br><br>

"Thank you, Jolie," Caroline replies with a smile. "I'd love a refill." She offers her glass and leans her head back on the rocker to sigh softly, a sound of relaxation. "Gramma Willie's is the place for taking the edge off the heat. Everyone who's anyone comes here pretty regularly," she smiles. "If there's anything you ever wanted to know about Natchez history, here's where to learn it."<br><br>

Irina whispered her thanks and her head just went on noting the details: Jolie. Brown on brown, 5'-4", 100 soaking wet, Caucasian, sixteen on the outside … maybe. She smiled as the girl refilled the glass, the ice cubes floating as the beverage rose up the sides. She waited until Caroline's glass had been filled and Jolie had moved on before responding.<br><br>

"I'll remember that the next time I'm here. But what can you tell me about Natchez, if you don't mind my asking?" Irina sank back in her chair and took long pull on her tea, sighing and closing her eyes. Heat's making me sleepy. Maybe it's a good thing there's sugar in the tea.<br><br>

Caroline glances up at the teen and says, "Thanks, darlin'. It's wonderful, as always." She starts to rock on the porch, her eyes coming back to Irina. "What would you like to know?" she counters mildly.<br><br>

"At the risk of looking like an idiot, I'm afraid I don't know enough to narrow it down to a single topic." Irina opened her eyes and smiled to reassure Caroline. "What interests you about Natchez? What do you love about it? Or like the least?"<br><br>

Caroline picks up the fresh glass and sips from it. "Natchez is a way of life, Irina," she replies calmly. "It is laid back and ... genteel. But it has its seedy underbelly too. I came back here because it is familiar territory -- It would take me all day to tell you what interests me. There is culture, history, art, music. It's an amazing town. What I like the least is probably what anyone likes the least about their town.... The crime levels."<br><br>

"Is it bad here?" She couldn't help it. She had to ask. Dangle a lure like that in front of a recovering homicide detective and not take a swipe at it? Not a fuckin' chance. "It may have some bearing on my relocating here." Please.<br><br>

A single brow quirks up. "It's not horrific, I suppose. Compared to Manhattan," Caroline admits on a chuckle. "We have our share of things, though, sure." She's curious, but she's already asked far more questions than she would otherwise have of a stranger.<br><br>

"I confess, Manhattan can be hard to compare to in some areas. But here you've got green and lots of it." Irina realized too late she should have defined the color a bit better. In some circles, green meant money and she suspected that genteel people down here did not openly discuss filthy lucre or even acknowledge its existence. "Trees, I mean. And grass. And a lot less concrete, glass, and steel. Can't say I like Mies van der Rohe or Bauhaus all that much. Something like this is more to my taste." She waved a hand at the porch and the house graced with gingerbread. "It's got a human scale to it, a human touch. You've lots of beautiful examples here."<br><br>

Architecture and its various styles was one of her many abiding interests, something she rarely got to indulge except in passing when on the force. Once retired, however, she'd had a little more time to spend on it, even as she regretted the reason why.<br><br> 

"If you like architecture, Irina, I do believe you've come to the right place, then." Caroline finishes her tea and moves to pick up the wide-brimmed hat, perching it on her hair lightly. She looks every bit the Southern belle in her soft peach sundress, white sandals and straw hat. "Perhaps we'll see you around Natchez again," she offers. "But if not, I do hope you enjoy your stay. I'm afraid I'm going to have to excuse myself, though. I have an appointment to keep." She smiles. "It was an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance."<br><br>

"Mine also. It's been lovely talking to you." Irina rose and set her glass down. "And I also have to leave. I've got an interview in a couple of hours. If it goes well, I might very well see you here again. I'd like that, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."<br><br>

Going to need contacts for Natchez, start making up my informant base. Given what Caroline had said about Gramma Willie and history, she already knew she'd start here.<br><br>

"It's no trouble at all, I'm sure," Caroline says. "You're more than welcome to let Gramma Willie's folks know if you need to see me. Someone'll get a message to me. Caroline Thibideaux."<br><br>

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," Irina said warmly, grateful to have a way to get back in touch with Ms. Caroline Thibideaux without tracking her down like a bail dodger. French name. Must be an old family here. She made a note to look it up when she got back home. "Good afternoon, Caroline. I hope we meet again."<br><br>

Irina didn’t linger but took her leave, eyeballing the sun’s progress toward sunset. If she went back to the B&B now, she might catch a light snack in the common room before showering and changing for the interview at eight.  Hell, I’ll take that nap Caroline recommended. I’m wiped. She made it to the car Ray had lent her for the duration and pulled away from the curb with the AC going full blast. She still had three hours. More than enough time to get that nap and show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for her dinner with Marcus Stone.<br><br> 


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