Sweet Tea Tuesdays

by Ashley Farley

  Lula sat with the family during dinner, barely touching the crab casserole Georgia had delivered earlier in the day. She put on a brave smile, but the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. And when she thought no one was looking, she winced every now and then in pain.

  After dinner Lizbet helped Lula upstairs while Brooke gave their father a hand with the dishes. “I’m tired of wearing my nightgown all the time,” Lula said as they mounted the stairs. “Tomorrow I’ll put on some street clothes for teatime at Georgia’s.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Lizbet said. “Wearing regular clothes should make you feel better. Do you have a particular outfit in mind? Is there anything we need to wash or iron for you?”

  Lula waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “No need to fuss. I’ll just throw on a pair of khaki slacks and a blouse.”

  Lizbet straightened the bedcovers and plumped up the pillows while Lula brushed her teeth and washed her face. Her mother crawled into bed, and Lizbet brought the blanket up to her chin and tucked it in tight around her body like a mother would do for a child. Their roles had reversed. She always knew it would happen one day. It was the natural progression of life. She just never expected it to happen so soon, when they were both still so young.

  Lula patted the bed beside her. “Sit, and let’s talk for a minute.”

  Lizbet climbed onto the bed and tucked her feet beneath her. “Anything in particular you want to talk about?”

  “We can talk about the weather for all I care. I’m just not ready to be left alone with my demons yet.”

  Lizbet dared to imagine what kind of demons a dying woman might face during the lonely hours of the night. “Well . . . let’s see. We can talk about my cooking lesson. I never made it to the store this afternoon. I’ll go first thing in the morning for the peaches.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like to learn to make?”

  Lizbet experienced an ache in her chest. Better ask now while you still can. “Anything you feel like teaching me, Mom. Thanksgiving gravy and grandmother’s cheese biscuits. Your rum cake and that unbelievable fudge you make. You’re the best cook I know.”

  Lula wagged her finger at Lizbet. “You’re telling me a fib, little Miss Priss. You work for the most sought-after caterer in the city.”

  Lizbet laughed. “That’s not a fair comparison. Heidi’s cuisine is modern, but your cooking is old-school.”

  “True. Many of my recipes have been handed down for generations.”

  “You mean like your chicken pot pie?” Lizbet asked.

  “Yes ma’am. That recipe dates back to the Civil War,” Lula said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I know. Why don’t we make the chicken pot pie tomorrow instead of the peach pie? Both recipes call for the same crust. The peach pie is easy. You can handle that on your own. But there’s a trick to getting the gravy right for the chicken pot pie.”

  Lula’s pot pie recipe didn’t call for carrots and peas like most. Her version consisted of lots of chicken, hard-boiled eggs, and rich, creamy gravy. It was different, and better, than any she’d ever tasted. “That sounds good to me. And we can have it for dinner tomorrow night.” Lizbet rose from the bed and went to the window to draw the drapes. “You know, Mom, if you’re feeling up to it, there are other things I’d like for you to show me. Brooke and I both want to learn how to garden.”

  “I would be happy to show you around my garden. I worked hard getting my perennial bed established. I’d hate to see it become neglected.” Her mother was silent for a minute, a faraway look in her eyes. “We’ll need to go through the silver in the sideboard as well. I inherited several heirloom pieces from both your grandmothers. You should learn the history.”

  Lizbet returned to the bed and sat back down. “You have boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations in the attic. I have no clue how to go about decorating this house for the holidays.”

  “Then we’ll go through those as well. I always intended to organize that mess and label the boxes. I just never got around to it.” Lula squeezed Lizbet’s hand. “Let this be a lesson for you, sweetheart. It’s true what they say. Make the most of every minute, and don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”

  Lizbet stood to go. “I’ll remind you of that when I’m pestering you to teach me how to arrange flowers.” She kissed her mother’s forehead.

  Lula slipped farther beneath the covers and closed her eyes. “I just hope the good Lord grants me the time to teach you what you want to know,” she said more to herself than Lizbet.

  As Lizbet wandered down the hall toward her bedroom, she contemplated the unpredictability of life. In less than a week their family had been torn apart—first by Brooke’s unexpected bombshell and then by Lula’s brain tumor. But facing their mother’s mortality was bringing them back together better and stronger than ever before. Now all they needed was a miracle.

  Lizbet heard her sister’s animated voice coming from inside her bedroom, and she stopped just shy of the doorway to eavesdrop.

  “I’m telling you, Sawyer,” Brooke said. “Mom’s done a complete about-face. She really wants to get to know you. Two days ago I would’ve said to get here as soon as you can, but she’s much perkier now. Who knows how much time she has left, but I don’t think you need to rush.”

  Lizbet listened for a few more minutes as Brooke and Sawyer discussed the logistics of the move and their new apartment and jobs. Listening to them talk like an old married couple brought a smile to her face. Brooke had often stayed up late in high school talking on the phone. But never to a boy. Come to think of it, the person on the other end of the line had always been a girl. Brooke had known who she was even back then. And she’d known how to go about getting what she needed to survive.

  She went in her room and crawled beneath the covers fully dressed. Aside from the occasional Thanksgiving or Christmas holiday, the four of them had rarely slept under the same roof in seven years. The familiar sounds of her family involved in their nightly routines comforted her—her father watching the History channel on the TV in the Florida room and her sister talking on the phone in the room next to her.

  Lizbet had no idea what her future held once her mother was gone. Her lease was coming up for renewal next month. Maybe she would move back home permanently. At least until she could save enough money for culinary school. Her father would appreciate the company. She wouldn’t be around much anyway. She’d spoken to Heidi that morning, asking for flexibility in her schedule while her mother was ill.

  “Take all the time you need. Things are slow now, but we will be slammed starting in September.” Heidi seemed to already understand, probably from what Georgia had told her, that it wouldn’t be long. “When Annie leaves for New York, I’ll need you to pick up the slack, take on some of her responsibilities.”

  Lizbet sensed that, in two months’ time, an increase in responsibilities at work might be a welcome diversion.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Midge

  Midge groped for her readers and cell phone on the bedside table. Scrolling through the e-mails in her inbox, she found the two she’d been waiting for. The answers in both were yes. She shook Bennett awake. “Both property owners accepted our contracts. We got our building, and you got your new home.”

  Bennett sat straight up in bed. “Really?” he said, his little-boy face beaming with delight.

  “Yes, really. Sixty days until closing on both.”

  He gathered her in his arms, lifted her off the bed, and twirled her around the room chanting, “We’re starting our own business, and I’m buying a waterfront condo.” He let her feet drop to the floor, and they slow danced in a circle. “We’re gonna have a beautiful life together, Midge baby. Our dreams are finally coming true.”

  She caught a glimpse of the house next door through her bedroom window, and her heart sank. Lula had a beautiful life, too—a lovely home, faithful husband, and two precious daughters. How unfair was it that Lula’s life was
coming to a premature end when Midge’s was just beginning?

  Bennett pushed her away. “I’m starving. Let’s go fix some eggs.”

  In the kitchen, still dressed in their sleep clothes, Bennett brewed two cups of coffee while she removed a carton of eggs, a bowl of fresh fruits, and a package of turkey sausage from the refrigerator. As she cooked breakfast he sat at the island with a legal pad and pen making a list of all they needed to accomplish in order to launch their business.

  After they left the Market Pavilion Hotel the night before, he insisted on driving her past the site for his downtown mall on the way home. “Mark my words,” he’d said, “this downtown mall will offer the most upscale shopping and dining experience in the state.”

  Midge believed him. Their beautiful life together would begin today.

  She scooped scrambled eggs onto two plates and added a patty of sausage and a spoonful of fresh fruit. When she set his plate in front of him, she saw her diamond engagement ring on the counter across from him where she usually sat.

  “What’s this?” She stared at the ring as though it were a poisonous spider. Things were fine between them as long as she wasn’t wearing his ring. “Bennett, I—”

  “Just wear the damn thing, Midge. I’m not asking for a commitment. I just want the world to know you belong to me.” He stood and rounded the bar to her side. He picked up the ring. “I loved my grandmother very much. Almost as much as I love you. Whether or not you and I ever get married, this ring symbolizes that love.” He lifted her hand, preparing to slip the ring on her finger. “May I?”

  No sane woman would ever say no to such a meaningful declaration of love. “Yes, you may,” she said and kissed him on the lips. She was getting good at taking risks. With a little luck, her gambling would pay off.

  They divvied up their to-do list while they ate breakfast. Bennett would interview potential contractors to discuss the renovations on their new building, and Midge would contact a lawyer friend of theirs, a mutual party, to draw up their partnership agreement. She would also hire a web expert—a friend from her yoga class who came highly recommended—to secure their domain name, set up their mail server, and begin designing their website.

  Unable to contain her excitement, Midge drove straight to work and told the office manager she was leaving his company. Arnold was neither thrilled nor surprised to see her go. “With your talents and work ethic, I can’t believe we were able to keep you as long as we did.”

  She cleaned out her desk and was home again by noon. Bennett was waiting for her with a trunk full of office supplies, including a three-in-one printer, that he’d purchased from Staples. They dragged an old farm table out of the attic and set it up in the corner of the kitchen. With the printer positioned between them, they sat at opposite ends on opposite sides of the table.

  They shared a salad for lunch and spent the first part of the afternoon tackling their to-do list and making phone calls to clients. When they were both on the phone, one of them had to leave the room. The setup, although not ideal, was only temporary and would work until they could move into their new building.

  Midge went upstairs at three thirty to change from her work clothes into a pair of white jeans and a pale-blue T-shirt. She’d always looked forward to sitting on Georgia’s porch and chatting with her best friends in the past, but today she dreaded seeing both her friends for very different reasons. Midge didn’t blame Lula, poor thing. She was in pain and struggling to accept her prognosis. But her current state of mind made her difficult to be around. As for Georgia, Midge had exchanged several texts with her in the past few days to arrange the teatime and organize meals for the Hornes; but the tone of the texts, inasmuch as one can establish a tone in a text message, was all business. It troubled Midge to think her friendship with Georgia was lost forever, but there was little she could do to repair it. The most important thing was to put up a good front for Lula’s benefit.

  Yesterday’s storm had preceded a cold front that had stalled out over the area, bringing cooler temperatures and a constant drizzle, a welcome relief from the scorching summer sun and sizzling heat. Midge had offered to stop in for Lula on the way to Georgia’s, knowing the short walk was now a challenge for her sick friend. She grabbed an umbrella from the coat closet, exited the back door, and crossed the postage-stamp size yard to Lula’s house. How could she bear to look at the white frame house with the dark-green shutters and yellow front door once Lula—the best homemaker she’d ever known—was no longer at home? She would have to move.

  Midge walked the rest of the way up Lula’s short gravel driveway, pausing for a minute to collect herself before knocking on the door. Lula surprised her, flinging the door open and dragging her in for a huge bear hug. This was not the same woman she’d encountered two days ago.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for straightening me out the other day. I know it wasn’t easy for you to say the things you said, but I desperately needed to hear them. Because of you I have a legacy to leave my girls.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Georgia

  Georgia placed the cucumber sandwiches and cheese straws on the tray, swept them off, and arranged them once again. Why was she so nervous? It was just teatime, a tradition they’d shared for twenty-six years—thirteen hundred and fifty-some-odd Tuesdays according to her calculations—during which they’d whiled away the afternoon. Today would likely be their last. She’d taken their time together on Tuesdays for granted, but these gatherings had been the highlight of her week.

  She carried the tea tray outside, set it down on the coffee table, and crossed to the other side of the porch to wait for Lula and Midge. As much as she’d missed being with them, she dreaded seeing Midge. She was still mad as hell at her for keeping Langdon’s affair a secret. “I didn’t want to see you hurt,” Midge had said, a lame excuse if ever Georgia had heard one. Five weeks ago, on this very porch, Georgia had all but confessed to having trouble in her marriage. Midge should’ve known the news of Langdon’s affair wouldn’t come as a surprise. Midge wasn’t afraid of seeing her hurt. She simply lacked the backbone to tell her.

  Georgia heard Lula’s voice, talking on about the chicken pot pie she’d made that morning, seconds before she came into view from the back of her house. With Midge cupping her elbow for support, Lula shuffled down the alley, careful to place one foot in front of the other. It broke her heart to see her friend become an old woman overnight. Lula, who once had more energy than the other two of them put together, didn’t deserve what was happening to her. She was ornery and set in her ways, but she had the kindest heart of them all. She gave her time freely without needing to be thanked. She volunteered in the community—not chairing boards like Georgia but down in the trenches serving meals to the homeless and taking care of youngsters at after-school programs for the underprivileged.

  Georgia waved and walked to the bottom of the steps to greet them. “You look much better than the last time I saw you,” she said, taking hold of Lula’s other arm and helping her up the steps.

  “I’m moving mighty slowly, but my head is clearer than it’s been in days, thanks to your husband’s new cocktail of meds. Sadly, prescription pills are the only cocktail I’m allowed.”

  “I’m glad he was able to help.” She was glad her husband was able to help someone, because he certainly hadn’t helped Georgia. They got to the top of the steps and paused while Lula caught her breath. “If it’s too damp out here, we can go sit inside.”

  “Not at all. The coolness is refreshing, like an early fall day.” Lula broke free of their hold and made her way to the sofa.

  It saddened Georgia to think Lula would never experience crisp fall days again or snow showers in the winter or the dogwoods blooming in the spring. “Can I get you a blanket?”

  “I’m fine,” Lula said. “No need to fuss over me. I’m getting plenty of that at home.”

  Georgia poured them all a glass of tea and sat down in the chair opposite
Lula and Midge on the sofa. “Thank you, Midge, for making today happen.” Georgia forced her voice to sound pleasant even though she couldn’t bring herself to meet Midge’s gaze. She eyed the deck of cards on the table. “Should we draw to see who goes first?”

  “I’ll pass,” Lula said. “I think my news is obvious. But you two go ahead.”

  “Come now,” Midge said, nudging Lula beside her. “Surely you have something to tell us we don’t already know.”

  Lula’s cheeks grew scarlet. “Maybe I do, but I insist on going last.”

  “We don’t need the cards today.” Midge held her hand out to Georgia. “You’re the hostess. You go first.”

  The breakup of her marriage paled in comparison to brain cancer, but she wanted to keep things as normal as possible for Lula’s sake. And didn’t she want to smack the smug expression right off Midge’s face? “Langdon moved out this morning. Is that what you want to hear, Midge? I’ve already spoken to my attorney, and the divorce is in the works. Feel free to spread that tidbit of gossip around town.”

  Midge stiffened. “You know me better than that. I’m not the least bit happy about your divorce. I didn’t do this to you, Georgia. I’ll admit I’m guilty for not telling you about his affair sooner. So shoot me for not wanting to see you hurt.”

  Georgia, surprised by Midge’s angry tone, glared at her. “For your information, I found out about my husband’s little mistress on my own, way before Lula’s party. Although it would’ve been nice to hear it first from a friend instead of seeing a text from my husband’s trashy little tart appear on his phone.”

  “Stop it, please, both of you!” Lula placed her hands over her ears. “You’re making my head hurt.”

  Midge rested a hand on Lula’s shoulder. “You’re right, Lula, and I’m sorry. This is between Georgia and me. She and I can discuss it later. Let’s find something more pleasant to talk about.”