Queen of the Cookbooks

by Ashton Lee

  “Fair enough. Anyway, my tent will be the one with the GET YOUR CHICKEN ON THE SOFA sign over it. I think it’s kinda cute and should attract some attention, don’t you?”

  “I’d be curious about it, I know that. And who knows how many couch potatoes it’ll win over?”

  Aleitha laughed warmly. “Very nice touch. And they say librarians don’t have a sense of humor.”

  “Well, I don’t know about the rest of ’em out there, but I try.”

  * * *

  The last entrant that particular day pressed the envelope in a way that Bit Sessions and Gwen Beetles would likely never have considered—and that was saying something. For all intents and purposes, Marzetta Frieze was a miniature adult, although she was definitely not a little person. She was normally proportioned but just happened to be a few inches short of five feet. But that was not what truly distinguished her from the pack. Rather, it was her run-on sentences, along with her downright loopy exuberance that had Maura Beth in awe, unable to get a word in edgewise.

  “. . . and I really think I can win the Best Appetizer category and as a matter of fact,” Marzetta was saying after introducing herself, “I’ve actually brought a couple of my cheese balls for you to taste and I’m sure you will agree they’re the best cheese balls you’ve ever tasted because it was my mother’s recipe and all of her friends who came to her parties begged her over the years to give it out, but she wouldn’t because she said that once you give out a recipe, people will change it on you and then if they do something really terrible to it, then you get the blame, but anyway I have a couple of cheese balls in my purse for you to taste and I just know you’re gonna love them as much as everyone else does and—”

  Maura Beth could not restrain herself and finally broke in. “Did you say you have cheese balls in your purse?”

  Marzetta looked and sounded as if she’d just heard the most ridiculous question in the world put to her. “Why, yes, I wanted to be sure no bugs landed on them on the way over here and my purse is the perfect place to make sure that doesn’t happen, and just wait until you taste them because I made them fresh this morning, although I think they’re at their absolute best when they’re warm, but maybe if you have a microwave here in the library I can go run them in for a few seconds and bring them back—” Marzetta came to a sudden halt. “I see what’s bothering you, I should have known, but let me assure you that I didn’t make that mistake twice.”

  “What mistake was that?”

  Marzetta’s tiny body shook with laughter. She almost seemed like a windup toy that was out of control or getting ready to run off the tracks. “Keeping the cheese balls away from my lipstick and my compact, of course, because a couple of times I didn’t wrap them in anything, not even napkins, and I don’t know what I was thinking, but there was this time I got powder on them when my compact opened up and some of it spilled out, though I don’t know how. Another time, there was a penny stuck to one of them. A brand-new, shiny penny. Can you imagine? People thinking I rolled my cheese balls in pennies? But, of course, I learned my lesson, so naturally from then on I carried them around in a ziplock bag and that’s what I’ve got them in right now to let you taste, so you needn’t worry about a thing, Miz McShay, everything is really quite sanitary, I can assure you.”

  Maura Beth was speechless at first; then she realized that the real reason she couldn’t think of anything to say was because she wasn’t sure if the woman had really come to the end of her long, rambling monologue. Finally, she managed a halfhearted, “Is that it?”

  “Is what it?”

  “No, I meant, did you have anything more to say about your cheese balls? That’s an amusing little story you just told.”

  “I can’t think of anything, except that I’d love for you to taste one and all I have to do is get the ziplock bag out of my purse and it’ll only take me a second to do that and then you’ll see why everyone always raves about my cheese balls and why I think I’ll win the Best Appetizer category for sure, and I sure could use the extra money because ever since my husband divorced me, he’s always behind on the alimony payments, that good-for-nothing, lazy slob. Do you know that he used to store his money behind the heating vent in the bedroom? Imagine what would have happened to it if the house had caught on fire. He’d have been broke and—”

  Fearing even more of the woman’s life story to come, Maura Beth once again broke in. “By all means, let me have a nibble, please.”

  Marzetta retrieved the bag and handed over one of the perfectly round, orange-colored savories, then leaned back with ever-widening eyes in anticipation.

  Seeing no sign of powder, lipstick, or coin of the realm on the surface, Maura Beth summoned her most adventurous spirit and took a bite, consuming half of the cheese ball in the process. She chewed somewhat tentatively at first; but then, as the extraordinary flavors burst in her mouth, she picked up speed. The other half soon disappeared and Maura Beth held nothing back.

  “That really is quite delicious, Marzetta. I’ve never tasted anything like it. You may very well win. Although I hope you realize that I can’t vote, and I’m not supposed to influence the outcome in any way.”

  “I figured as much, but can you guess what my secret ingredient is in my cheese balls? Now, some people have guessed right, but most people don’t, so let’s see if you can.”

  Maura Beth waited once again to see if more words were forthcoming and then she went to work on trying to identify the aftertaste in her mouth. “Is it . . . by any chance . . . ham?”

  Marzetta puffed out her cheeks, looking like she might explode at any moment. Then she let the air out of her face and went straight into the widest smile she could manage. “Bingo. You’re a winner. I don’t think the word’s meant to be used this way, but everyone says my cheese balls have a hammy flavor. And some of ’em say I’m downright hammy myself.”

  “That’s cute, but these really are the best cheese balls I’ve ever tasted. But once again, I have to keep my opinions to myself.”

  Marzetta’s energy level seemed to shift into yet a higher gear. “I know that and I think my cheese balls speak for themselves, but now, if you don’t mind, I wondered if you’d give me your opinion of the sign I’m having made up for my food tent, and what I mean by that is, do you think it’s too corny and I should go in another direction because here’s what I was thinking of doing, and it’s that I wanted to make a play on the letter z in my last name and spell out my sign like this—capital M-R-S and then F-R-I-E-Z-E-apostrophe-S and then C-H-E-E-Z-E and then finally B-A-L-L-Z. What do you think, Miz McShay?”

  Maura Beth was conjuring up a mental picture and took a few seconds to consider the scheme while sweeping aside any lingering confusion. “Well, why not? It’s all in fun, so maybe that’ll get a few more people to your tent. I say go ahead.”

  Marzetta wrinkled her little bunny nose and then winked. “Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, but you mark my words, I’m gonna win on the Fourth and nothing or no one’s gonna stop me.”

  * * *

  “You’re overreacting,” Jeremy told Maura Beth in bed that evening. At the moment he was a bit miffed that his wife’s worries over the contest and the completion of the library were interfering with their ordinarily energetic lovemaking. So far, nibbling her earlobe tenderly and his trademark kisses on her eyelids were having no discernible effect, and those little romantic canapés had rarely failed to work their special brand of magic before.

  “No, I’m not. You should have heard those two women from Corinth scratching and clawing at each other today, and they weren’t even in the same room at the same time.” Maura Beth propped herself up on her pillows and folded her arms, looking anything but ready for a little romance.

  “Now, listen,” he began, inching closer to her and determined to defrost her for the occasion. “You’ve handled a lot worse in the book club than those two quarreling biddies. Why, I’d put Mamie and Marydell Crumpton up against those women from Corinth—what di
d you say their names were again?”

  “Bit Sessions and, uh, Gwen Beetles.”

  Jeremy practically guffawed. “What names! Do you think they actually might be aliases or in the Witness Protection Program?”

  “I doubt it. This is the Deep South, after all. You can’t make this stuff up, you know. Of course, there was another woman who came in—Aleitha Larken—and she restored my faith in humanity. She was perfectly delightful, and I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I sort of hope she wins. And then there was still another woman who went by the unlikely name of Marzetta. She was this tiny little thing who talked a mile-a-minute about her cheese balls and even brought me one to taste. Actually, she lifted it out of her purse.”

  Jeremy put a finger to his temple. “Aha, the old purse maneuver. Sounds like an extremely novel way to serve things. How was it?”

  “It was very good, and she insists she’s going to win Best Appetizer. I’m telling you, sweetheart, I was a bit overwhelmed today. Of course, it was all for a good cause.” A hint of a smile crept into Maura Beth’s face, and Jeremy decided to be audacious and run with it.

  “I think the best remedy for your troubles, Miss Scarlett, is a little first-class romp in the hay.” He could tell that Maura Beth was pretending to be offended by turning up her nose halfheartedly. His naughty ploy was definitely working, and he was within sight of port.

  “Why, Mis-tuh Jeremy McShay,” she said with a smile, working a drawl for the fun of it, “I hope you don’t talk that way to your English classes, suh. You’d never hear the end of it at all those very proper PTA meetings.”

  Then he made his move, planting a juicy kiss on her lips and waiting for her to come up for air.

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me,” she told him, sounding a little breathless. “I’ll put the new library and all the rest of it on the back burner just for a little while. Have your way with me.”

  “You better know I will,” he said, wagging his brows wickedly. “You need to soar, Maurie.”

  She was whispering now. “I’m ready. Take me to the heights.”

  They were good at this sort of racy banter, keeping their love for each other an inventive exercise that never grew stale and usually contained a surprise or two worth repeating. They were never left unsatisfied and always ended up unwinding in each other’s arms after their pulses had finally wound down, the way it should always be for people who are very much in love.

  * * *

  Maura Beth would long remember every detail of the dream she had that night. Because it would recur. She was somewhere ethereal, surrounded by a cloud-like mist that obscured everything else from view. She was wandering about, searching for something but had no idea what it was. No one else was around. Not Jeremy. Not her parents, nor his. Not a single member of The Cherry Cola Book Club. Thankfully, not Councilman Sparks with his City Hall lackeys.

  She recalled a feeling of panic when this oppressive veil failed to lift no matter how far she walked. She began to pick up her pace, as if to outrun the fog. She wanted to call out for help, but no name seemed appropriate for that purpose. Then, just when she was about to scream, gripped by that insistent feeling people get when they realize they are in the midst of a nightmare and need to wake up to escape it, a small clearing appeared ahead of her in the gray mist. The moment she walked into it somewhat tentatively, shafts of bright sunshine streamed down upon her uplifted face. Then she suddenly realized her hands were outstretched as if preparing to welcome someone or something into her open arms.

  At that point she woke up, no longer afraid. She sat up in bed and blinked a few times, as if trying to establish what was real and what was not in the darkness of the room. This dream, she decided, was going to stay with her, tucked away in her memory bank for future use. She would tell no one about it for the time being, since she was certain they would dismiss it as just an ordinary dream—one among many that people had from time to time that was probably inconsequential. But Maura Beth definitely felt otherwise.

  Funny how instinct could rear its convincing head when it needed to, overcoming logic and the other tenets of waking life.

  3

  Free-for-All

  It was a magnificent sight to behold. There it stood, a sparkling, imposing façade covered in Tennessee sandstone with great panes of glass and a vaulted ceiling dotted with skylights to let the sunshine in below. No more repurposed dark, windowless, corrugated iron tractor warehouse for the deserving patrons of Cherico: The Charles Durden Sparks, Crumpton, and Duddney Public Library was nearly complete only a few days away from its Grand Opening on the Fourth of July. Maura Beth and Jeremy took it all in from the parking lot in front, which had just been freshly paved with asphalt and caused their nostrils to twitch at the overpowering smell of creosote baking in the merciless sun.

  “I can’t believe we’re almost open for business now that the computers are in—and none too soon,” Maura Beth said, fanning her face in the heat and leaning against Jeremy for support. “Yep, we are ready for business except for some of the landscaping and the furniture.”

  “I think your patrons will forgive the lack of greenery. A few missing bushes never kept people away. Besides, you can always blame everything on the heat. No one’ll dare dispute it.”

  “Probably so.” She checked her watch and gave an impatient sigh. “He’s late, of course. Everyone must always be kept waiting for His Highness. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose.”

  “So our good City Hall councilman wouldn’t even give you a little hint about the furniture?”

  Maura Beth shrugged and managed to sound complacent, even though she was anything but. “He just loves teasing me, you know. I’m halfway convinced he has all of it in storage somewhere around here just because he can. If you look in the dictionary under ‘control freak,’ there’s a picture of our Councilman Durden Sparks smiling like the charming devil he is.”

  They both chuckled, and Jeremy said, “I want to see the lake from the deck around back again. While it was under construction, I really couldn’t believe the view. Water has such a calming effect on most people. I know it does me. I can look out over a body of water and somehow feel like I’m home. Probably the Lemming effect. They say we all want to return to the water anyway. It just occurred to me that I ought to bring my English classes out here to see what a state-of-the-art public library looks like. Our school library is pretty much the pits, and it just doesn’t get the job done with its limited hours.”

  “Well, I’m still convinced some patrons will come out just to read their books on the deck. That is, if we can ever get something for them to sit on. Of course, they could stand at the railing for a while, but we ordered up four cast-iron tables and sixteen cast-iron chairs so they could relax out there to their hearts’ content. But where are our outdoor tables, and where’s the rest of it? Where are our browsing couches and comfortable chairs for the periodicals area? Where are our chairs for the study carrels and the computer terminals? Oh, it’s driving me crazy, and our supplier just keeps giving me the runaround. Frankly, I think they’ve lost track of the shipment. Wouldn’t you know it?”

  Jeremy put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze and then a peck on the cheek for additional reassurance. He had become an expert at relieving her stress the moment it reared its ugly head. “Don’t let it get to you, Maurie. Even if the furniture doesn’t arrive in time, your patrons will still be blown away by the light and space and the professionalism of your new staff. You’ve done well, and even if everything is not perfect, I’m sure the Grand Opening will be a huge success. We’ll still have the fireworks and Waddell Mack’s concert and your Queen of the Cookbooks contest with all the food booths. I’ll bet you anything that your patrons will be so excited they may not even want to sit down.”

  It was then that Councilman Sparks drove up and made a show of maneuvering his SUV into one of the nearby, freshly painted parking spaces, waving at them as if he didn’t have a care in th
e world or was watching them sail into the sunset on a yacht. Patented grand entrances and exits were an affectation of his, and he had won many an election by honing them to perfection.

  “Sorry I’m running late,” he said, stepping out in his crisp gray suit, silver tie, and sporty dark glasses and approaching them with the usual cheesy, reelection smile plastered on his handsome face. “Shall we go inside out of this heat? I think I’m about to melt.”

  When Maura Beth punched in the code for the sliding glass doors in front, she felt an overwhelming sense of ownership. Not that the library belonged to her, but it had definitely come through her, just as children do, according to the philosophy of Kahlil Gibran. She had found her niche in the universe of possibilities and brought this twenty-first-century building into being, and that was a commendable act of creation. Perhaps it would never get any better than this, so she was savoring the moment, which was captured for posterity on her smartphone.

  “Whew! The AC is certainly working to beat the band. Glad we didn’t spare any expense there,” Councilman Sparks said as they entered, wiping the sweat from his brow with the handkerchief from his pocket while gazing at the vaulted ceiling above them with a look of amazement on his face. Even he had to be impressed with what they had accomplished together.

  “Now that would be the opening day problem to end all problems,” Maura Beth answered. “That would have really done us in. We may not have the furniture we ordered, but at least our patrons won’t be roasting in this July heat. So about the furniture—”

  Councilman Sparks cut her off. “Yes, yes. I know you’ve been waiting for some last-minute good news, and I can’t say I blame you. I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I had everything pinned down precisely. The bottom line is I just got off the phone with the carrier again, and after much investigation on their part, it seems our shipment was mistakenly sent to the library in Jericho, Missouri. How that could have happened, I have no idea.”