Collard Greens and Catfishing

by Kelsey Browning

  Lillian leaned forward to follow its downward glide. Was that…hay? And what the heck was that stench?

  Maggie’s normal scent wasn’t flowery, more the sharp tang of duct-tape adhesive and the sweet scent of WD-40, but pleasant nonetheless. Today she smelled of nothing sweet but gave off the pungent odor of something awful. What in the world?

  In addition, Maggie’s sheep-appliquéd shirt was askew, with the collar flipped up.

  Maggie must have caught Lil’s stare because she suddenly reached for her collar and adjusted it. That was when Lillian spotted the sweat stain under Maggie’s arm.

  “Is everything okay at Summer Haven?” Lillian tried to keep her tone casual, but Maggie had obviously been fighting more than traffic today.

  Maggie’s smile was slightly forced. “You’ll be glad to know we made it through Angelina Broussard’s pre-inspection inspection this afternoon.”

  Angelina’s name alone was enough to make Lillian pucker up. “Summer Haven has to pass the inspection to be included in the annual Christmas Candlelight Tour of Homes. It’s always been the shining star on that tour.”

  “I know, I know,” Maggie said on a sigh. “It’s critical to keep up appearances.”

  Lil’s friends and neighbors in Summer Shoals had no idea she’d been sent up the river for Social Security fraud, and she had every intention of it staying that way. “Now tell me why you have hay-speckled hair and are wearing less than palatable perfume.”

  Maggie reached down to the bedazzled tape holder she always wore on her belt and stroked her duct tape the way she did when she needed to soothe herself. “We’re having a little trouble with the septic system, that’s all. But I have it under control.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Harlan had that system installed the same year we married. That makes it over fifty years old. Besides, that’s too big a project for you, Maggie. Better to hire someone.”

  Maggie leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table. “Tell me, Lil, how do you want me to pay for that? Maybe sell some more furniture? There’s not much left in the way of big ticket items other than the Tucker Torpedo.” The words were sharp, but then her voice softened. “Or Sera, Abby Ruth and I could pay a little rent since we’re living at Summer Haven for free.”

  The thought of selling her daddy’s car, the one she’d made a deathbed promise to keep in the family, made Lil’s heart contract. So she simply ignored Maggie’s comment about it. “No rent. The house would be sitting empty if not for the three of you. And you know empty houses deteriorate quickly. Or worse, someone might vandalize the place.”

  “If I can’t fix the septic system myself, it’ll cost us the world. How do you expect we’ll pay for it? With your prison income? Come on, Lil.”

  “I might be able to help you.” Martha’s head was cocked to the right, and her mouth was curved in a smug smile befitting the self-professed inmate queen of Walter Stiles. And when the queen offered her subjects something, it meant she wanted something in return. “You need a new septic system. Well, I’ve got a guy.”

  “A guy?”

  “So happens that my uncle’s third cousin owns Roto-Ready—”

  “I couldn’t possibly take charity from your family,” Lil said, “any more than I’ll take money from Maggie.”

  “No charity.” Martha clucked her tongue against her teeth, producing a sound as if she was pulling back the trigger on a gun. “Barter. I’ve got this little problem that I think your grannies could help me with. After all, they fixed your guy up something good, didn’t they?”

  After Maggie, Sera and Abby Ruth had caught and corralled the greedy man behind the Social Security fraud that had landed her in prison, she’d boasted to Martha about what great sleuths her girls were. But that had been months ago, and she really didn’t want to drag her friends into something dangerous again. “I don’t know—”

  “I can handle this,” Maggie said to Martha.

  “Maggie, now hold on. Let’s hear her out.” Lil knew better than to disrespect Martha in public. A newbie had done that recently, and Martha’d had her girls confiscate all the woman’s underwear. And these uniforms were made from rough fabric. Lil didn’t want her panty drawer robbed.

  “I’ve got a niece who’s like a daughter to me,” Martha said. “Her biological clock is ticking so loud that men can hear her coming a mile away. I told her not to do it, but she signed up for one of those stupid online dating services called ThePerfectFit.com. One guy’s spent over a month messaging her back and forth on the site. But she’s never met him in all that time.”

  “What’s the problem with that?” Lillian asked. Didn’t seem so bad to her. Sounded as if the suitor was taking his time, getting to know the girl. Young people rushed into so many things these days. When Harlan was courting her, he’d spent a good four months simply visiting with her on the front porch before he’d ever tried to hold her hand or asked her out for a Sunday drive.

  “He’s finally asked her on a date, and can you guess what he wants to do?” Martha’s fingers thrummed the table like a drum solo. “That weirdo is taking her to play…paintball.”

  * * *

  Maggie leaned toward Martha. Now this was interesting.

  “Paintball?” At least it was an outdoorsy activity. Certainly better than sitting in a dark theater watching a movie. She didn’t know a thing about Martha’s niece, but paintball sounded like a perfect date for someone like Abby Ruth. Then again, Abby Ruth wasn’t exactly a normal woman.

  “Yeah,” Martha huffed. “My niece said he’s taking her to an outdoor course, one where the NPPL people compete. Can you imagine, grown men getting paid to splat each other with paint? What a racket. The girl’s so desperate she thinks it’s an exciting and romantic date. I swear she’s gone off her rocker.”

  Dating was a foreign concept to Maggie these days. With George gone well over a year now, she thought about men occasionally. But she thought about them in the same way she thought about being a hundred and twenty pounds again. Nostalgia mixed with the certainty that her dating again was about like a seventy-to-one long shot winning the Triple Crown.

  “It’s just entertainment. Like mini-golf or bowling. What’s the big deal?” Normally when Martha joined Lil at their table for a visit, Maggie tried to edge the other woman out of the conversation. After all, what Maggie discussed with Lil really had nothing to do with Martha. Plus, the woman was obviously in prison camp because she’d broken the law. It was hard to trust someone like that.

  Martha’s mouth drew tight, and her lowered eyebrows made her look as though she might jump across the table and tear into Maggie. “You don’t think it’s the least bit screwed up that he wants to take my niece to a place where they wear face paint, helmets and camo? He can’t be normal if his idea of romance is shooting at her with paint bullets on their first date.”

  “I don’t know what we can do to help. Are Sera, Abby Ruth and I supposed to crash your niece’s date and take this guy out on the paintball course?” Maggie’s tone came out snippy even to her own ears.

  Martha pounded on the table, prompting one of the guards to give them a sharp-eyed look. With a clenched fist still on the table, Martha lowered her voice. “This guy’s screen name is OnceUponATom, and he told her his real name is Tom Thumb. Seriously, what man’s momma names him after a fairy-tale midget? If I had to guess, he’s probably a peeping Tom. That name’s a fake. Has to be.”

  “That does seem a bit unrealistic,” Lil piped in.

  “I obviously can’t do any snooping around—” Martha blew out a big breath, “—since the powers that be watch everything I do on the computer. I need your help.”

  Maggie knew Martha was in for something related to computers, and didn’t really want to help the likes of her. “Neither Abby Ruth, Sera nor I know enough about computers to hack into stuff,” Maggie said, even though Sera was becoming more of a whiz every day.

  “It could be as easy as a Google search and a little stakeout work,
” Martha explained. “If you girls would be willing to track down this guy and report back, I’ll set up that septic system repair for you…on my dime. It could work out for everyone.”

  “A little quid pro quo.” Lil nodded thoughtfully. “That seems fair enough.”

  “Didn’t you hear a thing I said?” Maggie said. “We don’t need any quid pro quo. And if you ask me, Martha is overreacting. The guy is taking her niece on a date in a public place. No harm there. And, Lil, I’ve handled everything else at Summer Haven to this point, and goodness knows, that house demands a lot of attention. I’ll handle this situation too.”

  “But why when there’s another option?” Lil lifted her chin and gave Maggie her I’m-the-homecoming-queen-and-you’re-the-lowly-court look. “Finding this man would be so much easier than fixing the septic system. And if you’re so convinced he’s on the up-and-up, the search shouldn’t pose any of the danger you three got yourselves into a few months ago.”

  That was entirely different. That had been for Lil, not Martha. At the memory, satisfaction bloomed in Maggie’s chest. Searching for the guy who’d set up Lil and had preyed on innocent senior citizens had made her feel alive. Powerful. And besides, she’d learned on YouTube how to pick a lock like a pro. Why subscribe to all those DIY Improvement magazines when a gal could get free instructions off the internet?

  But something about doing little favors for Lil’s prison BFF crawled all over Maggie. If she gave in now, the next time she came to visit, Lil would probably ask her to spruce up the Azalea Room with clean sheets for Martha.

  Although the guards frowned upon it, Lil reached across the table, gripped Maggie’s hand in hers. “Think clearly, Mags. Angelina and her crew will be there in a little over a week for the inspection. Surely, finding this man will take less time than digging up the septic tank. Could you do this one favor for Summer Haven? For me?”

  One? More like Lil had asked a hundred of Maggie since she’d moved to Summer Haven. Heck of it was, she’d never been able to deny her best friend a favor.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday morning, Maggie stared down into the sunken area in the front yard. She’d hoped reducing flushes and the hot sunny weather might begin to dry out the septic field. But the situation was even worse, with soggy, stinking hay mixed in and the wheels of Sera’s van dipping below sea level. If they didn’t move that VW off the wet spot, they’d be down a vehicle and still unable to flush.

  Lil’s house was beautiful with its wide front veranda and stately columns, but it was like an aging woman. Lots of creaks and pops requiring daily maintenance. And more and more spackle needed to cover up her sagging facade. Sometimes Summer Haven was simply more than Maggie could handle alone, and this was one of those times. But she elbowed aside the nagging exhaustion living inside her because that wouldn’t help her get the job done.

  And the job was fixing the septic, not wasting precious time trying to find OnceUponATom. If she made Martha’s priority her own, Maggie would be up shit creek quite literally, and she couldn’t take that chance this close to Angelina’s inspection.

  Ten days and counting.

  With Abby Ruth off watching a Little League game, it would be up to Maggie and Sera to handle the VW van removal.

  Since Sera was meditating down by the creek, Maggie couldn’t do anything with the van or the exterior septic system at the moment. Maybe she could help the situation from inside the house by pouring one of those biological additives down the drains and toilets. With all the natural stuff Serendipity had introduced to their diets, the good and bad bacteria were probably waging a war inside the pipes. Looked like the bad guys were currently edging out the good. Not surprising since Maggie had often wondered if she’d survive Sera’s food herself.

  A quick trip down to Darrell Holloway’s hardware store and Maggie was back sprinkling septic additive like fairy dust in every sink and potty in the house when Sera came back from her cross-legged session.

  Maggie said, “I need some help moving the van so I can dig.”

  “Should we wait until Abby Ruth gets home?”

  “No telling when that’ll be. We can handle it.” Maggie led the way outside, pulling on a pair of work gloves as she walked. She had a feeling that van wouldn’t glide over the grass. “Best to do it now. Help me toss a few of these hay bales out of the way.”

  They hefted the soggy bales, which weighed twice as much since they’d sucked up water. Still, Maggie tossed them aside one after the other. Her muscles might have seven decades on them, but they worked, by goodness. Better and better every day.

  “You take the wheel,” Maggie told Sera, “and I’ll help guide you out. Gotta be careful not to run over the pipes or the tank itself.”

  Sera wiggled along their makeshift wall to get to the van. Another reason Maggie was serving as guide rather than driver. She might be slimmer than she’d been a few months ago, but she couldn’t have squeezed herself through that tight space.

  Maggie stood before the van like one of those guys who waved planes into the airport gates. All she needed was a bright vest and a flashlight. She raised her hands slowly, encouraging Sera to pull forward with caution.

  The VW’s engine revved and a rooster tail of brown muck shot from behind the bumper. That van wasn’t moving an inch under its own steam. Maggie waved her arms in a frantic crisscross motion for a good thirty seconds before Sera caught on. Finally, she rolled down her window and called, “What now?”

  “Gimme a sec to get into position behind the van.” Maggie trotted around, took a closer look at the back tires. They were even more sunken than the front. Their quick fix for Angelina’s visit had landed them in even deeper doo-doo.

  Bad joke, Maggie.

  “Make sure the van’s in park,” she hollered at Sera. “I need to get some leverage back here.” It took a few minutes to wrangle hay out of a stray bale and stuff straw under each tire.

  “You ready?” Sera called.

  “Shift into drive and give the van a little gas. Be sure not to gun—”

  Sera punched the gas like a teenaged street racer, and Maggie’s last word was buried in an arc of water, mud and sludge. Her “Stop!” came out sounding like Stahb! She hunched over and spit the muddy goop out of her mouth.

  Sera’s engine went from roar to whine, and Maggie wiped at her tongue with her sleeve. Why was it she always ended up with something yucky in her mouth when she was around Sera? The knees of Maggie’s khaki pants were muck-stained, and her paisley-printed shirt would never be the same so she didn’t worry about wiping her gloves on it.

  Her friend popped her head out the driver’s side window as far as the hay would allow. “Oh, Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Septic work is messy business. Don’t worry about it.” But it was clear the hay wasn’t hacking it. “I need a couple of boards from the garage.”

  She was able to find a couple of sawed off two-by-sixes and hauled them to the front yard. Sera was standing at the back of the van, studying the sunken tires and flattened hay. “What a mess.”

  “I’m up to my ears in messes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lil’s volunteered us for a completely different mess.” Maggie mentally slapped her forehead for bringing up Lil’s request. She hadn’t yet decided what to do about Martha’s tit-for-tat suggestion. Then again, Sera was a good sounding board. “Lil asked me to do her pal—” oh, calling Martha that tasted as bad as the mud in her mouth, “—Martha a favor. In return, Martha offered to have a someone in her branchy family tree fix the septic system.”

  Sera eyed the sunken van. “That might not be a bad deal. What’s the favor?”

  “Martha’s niece met a guy on a dating site called The Perfect Fit, and even though she has absolutely no proof, Martha’s convinced he’s some kind of fairy tale Ted Bundy.”

  Sera got that faraway look she did sometimes before she said something strangely insightful. “Intuition is a powerful thing. What’s
got her all worked up?”

  “They’re finally going on their first date, and he’s taking her to play paintball.”

  “That’s the most violent first date I’ve ever heard of.”

  Maggie shrugged. Maybe she was the only one who didn’t think it was a big deal. But then she’d bet a roll of designer duct tape that Abby Ruth would agree.

  “You sound like you don’t want to help Martha or her niece. Why?”

  Well, and didn’t that make Maggie feel like an old sourpuss? But seriously, that Martha woman was a criminal. Who was to say she wasn’t planning a heist and using Summer Haven’s potty problems to stake out the place? Not on Maggie’s watch. No sirree. “We have things to do around here. If Summer Haven doesn’t pass that inspection, we’ll be off the register and the Christmas Candlelight Tour of Homes. If that happens, it’ll just about kill Lillian.”

  Sera’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “C’mon, we rocked that last little adventure, how hard could it be to find this guy?” She bounced on her toes, making the little bells on her ankle tinkle. “We’re good at tracking down shady characters.”

  They were at that, and it was easy to get caught up in Sera’s wide-eyed enthusiasm. “It was exciting.” But the whole thing with Martha burrowed under Maggie’s skin. “No. We need to make progress on Summer Haven, or we’ll be sunk deeper than your tires. Let’s get the van unstuck.”

  “At least think about it,” Sera said with a hopeful smile. “Please?” She leapt to Maggie’s aid, wedging a board behind each back tire. Once they had leverage, she ran back to the driver’s side and hopped behind the wheel. “Ready?”

  “Slowly this time,” Maggie instructed.

  Sera let the VW engine gradually amp up and thankfully the tires caught traction, allowing her to inch the van forward.

  “A little at a time,” Maggie called. “Keep going.”

  The once-yellow van slowly eased out of the muck, looking like an entry at the local 4x4 Mud Bog. They hadn’t even needed the help of Abby Ruth or her monster truck, which cheered Maggie. In fact, she was feeling so optimistic, she was sure she could whip this septic system into shape and get Martha off her back.