by Lynne Gentry
Roxie’s focus zeroed in on Maxine’s smug grin, her restrained temper flushing her cheeks crimson. “I don’t care where Davis Cadillac gets their auto parts these days. Can’t you understand this poor woman needs a minute to herself?”
“We will see.” Maxine approached Leona. Slicing the air in front of Leona’s face with her flattened palm, she fished for support. “Sister Harper, do you want me or this chop-shop hussy to stay with you?”
Judging from the elder’s wife’s planted size-eleven feet, Leona suspected Maxine had no intention of leaving without a fight, let alone going peacefully. Much as she’d dreamed of the day she could give Maxine what for, right now she didn’t have an ounce of fight left in her.
“Ladies, please. I know we’re all upset, but I need to call the kids.”
Roxie placed her hands on Maxine’s shoulders, ratcheting her sideways. “In private.”
Maxine’s head swiveled, neck bones popping, her face demanding a reprieve. But Leona nodded, relieved she had not had to say the words she dreaded. Telling her children their father had just died would be difficult enough without the prying eyes of those who deemed her incompetent listening in. She didn’t have it in her to smile at their critique of her coping methods.
Roxie pointed at Leona’s silent face. “There you have it, Maxine.” Roxie smiled. Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out.”
“Episcopalians.” Maxine stomped toward the exit. She turned and waggled her finger in Leona’s direction. “Don’t think for a moment this liberal heathen is interested in caring for the widows and orphans, Leona Harper.” The door clicked shut with a decisive disgust.
Widows? Orphans? The ugly words ricocheted off the floral wallpaper, bounced around with Gloria Gaither’s chorus of “Something Worth Living For,” pierced the blue afghan, and slammed directly into Leona’s heart.
“Thank goodness she’s gone.” Roxie peeled back a corner of the blanket and Leona felt her emotions hemorrhage. “You ready, girlfriend?”
Leona nodded but her body had joined forces with her ebbing resolve in a conspiracy to shut her down.
Roxie reduced the stereo volume. “I’ll be right here.” She drew her phone out of her bra and pressed a number on her favorites list. “Here you go.”
Leona searched the liquid pools of Roxie’s eyes, finding that familiar island of support. Fingers trembling, she took the phone and brought it to her ear. Trepidation rang loud and clear on her end. No one answered on the other.
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