The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off

by Carolyn Brown

  Alma Grace slapped her forehead. “Why didn’t we think of that before now?”

  “You are a genius, Patrice.” Carlene smiled.

  “Hey, we could get some napkins printed with our logo on them, too, if this goes over real well,” Alma Grace offered. “It’s nine o’clock. Time to open the doors for business. Oh, there’s Aunt Gigi pulling up at the curb.”

  Carlene shoved the last bite of her cinnamon roll into her mouth and followed Alma Grace to the door. Gigi slung it open and stepped inside just seconds after it was unlocked. The little bell at the top jingled but Gigi did not smile.

  “Bad news,” she said.

  “Daddy didn’t kill Lenny, did he?” Carlene held her breath.

  “No, far as I know Lenny is still breathing but not because I want him to be. I smell cinnamon. Let’s take this to the kitchen.”

  Carlene waited until her mother had rolls on a plate and a cup of coffee before she asked. “Okay, Mama, spit it out.”

  “I called Tip and he had a phone conference with Carson. Lenny is all hot air and shit, honey. He’s spent every dime of y’all’s savings on his trips with that bimbo and your joint checking is wiped clean,” Gigi told her.

  “Which means?” Patrice asked.

  “Tip is going to fight for half the equity in the house. Lenny can either buy you out or he’ll have to sell it and give you your portion but you’re going to lose money when you consider that you put up the whole down payment on it,” Gigi said.

  Carlene sighed. “I don’t care. He can have it. I just want my maiden name back and I don’t want to have to sell Bless My Bloomers. I guess I should go start another checking account in my name only with my paycheck this week.”

  Gigi nodded. “Carson is proposing that Lenny keep the house and his truck. You keep your van and your wedding rings and the business.”

  “It’s not fair,” Josie said. “Not after that stunt with your granny’s candlesticks. You need to figure out something else and hit him where it hurts. Tell him he can have those damned old rings and you’ll take cash money for them.”

  “There’s nothing short of shooting the bastard that would make him hurt,” Gigi said.

  “What does he prize more than anything?” Alma Grace asked.

  “Duh! His women. But if we shot them all, the female population in Grayson County would be decimated,” Patrice answered.

  “The chili cook-off,” Carlene whispered. “We could whip him at the chili cook-off next month. He’d just die if he lost to a team of women, especially if I was on the team. I’ll sell my rings to buy what we need.”

  “There’s never been women brave enough to enter that world. Some have talked about it but only in whispers and you aren’t selling your rings for that. You can sell them and give the money to a charity,” Gigi said.

  “What world?” When Tansy entered a room, a force preceded her that said for everyone to take a step back and listen up.

  “The chili cook-off. We’re going to beat Lenny this year and take the trophy. Lenny prizes those five trophies on the wall of his man cave more than anything. Every time his team won the past five years, he gloated for days and days about it. Is there something in the rule book that says women can’t enter?” Carlene said.

  “They never have but I bet it’s not in the rules,” Gigi answered.

  “Never have what?” Sugar breezed into the room and headed toward the coffee pot.

  “The chili cook-off,” Tansy said. “We’re about to take Lenny to the ground at the chili cook-off.”

  “You know what people will say if you win, right?”

  “Who cares what people will say, Aunt Sugar,” Patrice exploded loudly.

  Tansy took the stand and the room went quiet. “They’re going to say that none of us can cook and we cheated. And Patrice, if you want a clean win, you’d better care. Lenny is going to say that we won because our husbands gave us the tips for good chili. I think there’s still one of those cheap trophies in our attic somewhere from when Alex had a team. And Hank was on Lenny’s team last year, remember?”

  “Who gives a shit what he says or thinks? If we win, that means he loses. Didn’t Grandpa Fannin make chili for the cook-off in his day? Hell, we can surely follow a recipe,” Patrice argued.

  Sugar nodded. “Yes, he did and I bet his recipes are in the attic at my house. I brought a lot of that stuff home with me when Mama passed on. Who all are going to be on our team?”

  “Sisters, cousins, and Josie. That’s seven and the limit,” Gigi pointed at her sisters. “We’re going to do this. We’ll hit him where it hurts and take that trophy away from him.”

  “Whose kitchen are we going to use?” Tansy asked.

  “Not mine. I’m living right here,” Sugar declared.

  “Well, there’s a kitchen here and it’s never used for much so we’ll make our chili right here. The girls can run the business and we’ll test recipes until we find just the right one to whip the Chili Kings,” Gigi said.

  “We can’t have the smell of chili in the store while we’re trying to sell merchandise,” Carlene argued.

  “Then we’ll pick out our recipe, shop for the ingredients, and make it in the evenings. By morning, the smell will be gone,” Tansy said. “I’ve got an idea. Gigi and I will take that other bedroom upstairs so that if it gets late, we can stay over. I’ll call the house and have some furniture brought in today.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Gigi said.

  At the reality of what the Fannin sisters were planning, Carlene shot a desperate look toward Patrice. She’d be living with all three of them for six weeks until the cook-off was over. One little suggestion had turned into a full-fledged mission. That was enough to put her on her knees in prayer without a word from Alma Grace.

  ***

  Patrice caught the expressions on both her cousins’ faces at the same time. Poor little darlin’s, didn’t they remember that their faces could freeze like that? It wasn’t often that the youngest got to take the reins and make decisions, but today belonged to her.

  She held up a hand and snapped her fingers to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, ladies, here’s the way we’re going to handle this. Mama, you go on and sign us up for the chili cook-off today. We need a name for our team. Lenny’s is the Chili Kings. We could be the Chili Queens.”

  Josie shook her head. “Oh, no! That is not the name you girls should use. He’ll say you stole the idea from him. You should be the Red-Hot Bloomers. That’ll rub salt into Lenny’s wound real good when we beat the hell out of him with the panty squad.”

  “I like it,” Gigi said. “Put us down as the Red-Hot Bloomers Team when you go enter us in the contest, Tansy.”

  Alma Grace looked like she was about to cry. “So you are all going to have rooms upstairs with Mama until the cook-off is done. Uncle Alex and Uncle Hank aren’t going to like that a bit.”

  “It’s not every night. Just when we work late on our chili recipe,” Gigi said. “It’s not like we’re leaving them. We’ll be home with them all day, have supper with them, and then come here when the shop is closed to start experimenting with the recipes.”

  One stray tear found its way down Alma Grace’s cheek. “I don’t know if I can be on this team. It would be working against Lenny and Carlene ever getting back together and I’m not sure Jesus likes that idea. He wants us to forgive and forget, not split a marriage apart with a chili cook-off.”

  “Oh, stop it!” Carlene said.

  Sugar patted her daughter on the back. “Honey, do you remember in the scripture when David desired another man’s wife and he sent that man out into the front lines of battle just so he would be killed?”

  “What’s that got to do with a chili cook-off?” Alma Grace asked.

  “Think about how mad God was at David for that stunt. He punished him. Maybe Carlene and Lenny will get back together someday but not before Lenny is punished. This is a lot less punishment than David got.”

  Alma Grace
looked up into her mother’s eyes. “Are you sure, Mama?”

  “If I’m going to help develop the recipe and learn to cook chili, then I expect you can be on the team,” Sugar said.

  “You can’t cook,” Alma Grace reminded her.

  “I’m about to learn to make the best chili in Grayson County, Texas. And I can do anything I want to do. I never wanted to cook and your daddy said I brought enough to the marriage with my beauty and…” Sugar blushed.

  “And what she takes to the bedroom.” Gigi laughed.

  “I’ll be on the team but I’m not going back to our church until after Easter because I’m still pissed,” Alma Grace said.

  Sugar shook her finger at her daughter. “Alma Grace Magee! You are talking like Tansy.”

  “Well, I am and I’m not having any more devotionals with you until you and Daddy both quit acting like teenagers,” Alma Grace said. “And if Jack Landry asks me, I’m going to ride on the back of that motorcycle with him.”

  “You, young lady, are the one acting like a teenager. I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’re going to move in with that renegade Jack Landry, since you are so angry.” Sugar groaned.

  Patrice snapped her fingers again. “Whoa. Put away the butcher knives and guns. Aunt Gigi, you and Mama will be staying part-time upstairs with Aunt Sugar. Carlene and Alma Grace are going to stay at my house. I’ve got two extra bedrooms and if y’all can live together for a few weeks, then we can. But the three of you have to realize, we do have a business to run in the bottom half of this house. No loud noise. No stomping around during the day. We don’t give a shit what you do at night. You can have a prayer meeting or get drunk or brew chili. But during the day, you will behave, understood? Aunt Gigi, you won’t even have to bring any furniture since Carlene’s bedroom can be yours.”

  Carlene poked her cousin on the leg and mouthed, “What about Yancy?”

  Patrice shrugged and whispered, “I’ll manage.”

  “Can I move in tonight?” Alma Grace asked.

  Patrice nodded. “And so can you, Carlene.”

  “Thank you, Patrice, but I’m too tired to move tonight. I’ll do it after work tomorrow,” Carlene said. “Now let’s get to work. Josie and I’ve got underwear to design. This place won’t run itself and thank you for letting me live at your house.”

  “I’ve got quarterly tax forms to take care of.” Patrice picked up her coffee and headed to the office.

  The door’s bell jingled and Alma Grace hurried off toward the store.

  Patrice laid a hand on her shoulder as they passed in the foyer. “What you do in your bedroom is your business. I don’t give a shit when you come in at night or when you leave in the morning but I will not have morning devotionals with you. Understood?”

  Alma Grace saluted sharply. “Yes, ma’am.”

  ***

  “What in the hell have we set loose?” Gigi said when they were alone in the kitchen. “Thank God it’s not football season. Hank and I have never missed a Longhorn game in our lives and we always go together.”

  “It’ll be fun. We haven’t lived together like this since we were teenagers,” Sugar said. “We’ve each got a room and we’re going to learn to make world-class chili. What more could we ask for?”

  “More than one bathroom.” Gigi shook her head. “Hank is going to pitch a helluva fit.”

  Tansy smiled. “Alex won’t like it either but it’s for a good cause. And I read the cards this morning. My bird was happy and I knew it would be a good reading. Guess what they told me? They said that nobody will expect us to come up with a prize recipe since everyone knows we can’t cook and it will surprise the hell out of everyone when we win. This is going to be fun.”

  “Oh, we’ve got to plan our tent and our logo to go on the little bowls to serve our chili and the recipes.” Sugar rubbed her hands together. “Josie, do you have any good recipes we could start off with?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no! Louis never liked chili so I didn’t make it very often.”

  “Well, shit!” Tansy moaned.

  “That’s what I just said.” Josie grinned. “I’m going back to work, and don’t worry. There’s recipes by the dozens for every kind of chili in the world on those cooking sites on the computer.” She headed out of the kitchen.

  Gigi clapped her hands. “I’ll bring my laptop and we’ll hunt up the best recipes and then get busy, but first Tansy’s got to go to the Chamber of Commerce and register the team. And we’ve got to go to Sugar’s house while Jamie is out and go through the attic where we just might find the last recipe Daddy made before he passed.”

  Sugar whispered, “I can’t go home until he apologizes and repents. Y’all will have to do it. I’ll go register the team and use the company laptop to look at logos while you’re gone.”

  “Is that big old heavy cooker that Daddy made chili in every year in your attic?” Gigi asked.

  Sugar’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, and I put a lot of loose recipes in it when I took it from Mama’s house. I bet somewhere in there is a recipe for his prize-winning chili.”

  “But that was his recipe. We need to have our own,” Tansy protested.

  “It will be ours when we add our own special touches. Gigi, you do make chili for the family gatherings sometimes. What’s your secret?” Sugar asked.

  “It’s my special secret that I don’t share.” She wasn’t telling her sisters that her chili came straight out of a gallon can she bought at the store and added a teaspoon of liquid smoke and half a cup of Worcestershire sauce after it started to boil.

  She wasn’t one damn bit excited about spending so much time with her two bickering sisters either. Or sleeping alone on late nights. Or eating takeout for supper most of the time. She’d gain ten pounds for sure, yank her hair out by the roots in an attempt to keep peace on the second floor, and holy shit, she’d have to share a bathroom with a saint and a psychic.

  Tansy reached across the table and laid one hand on Sugar’s and the other on Gigi’s. “I see a gold plastic trophy in our future. I see Lenny madder than hell and our husbands all being really nice to us for a long time after the next six weeks and begging us never to enter the contest again. I see women in Cadillac throwing down roses for us to walk on because we are entering a world where women have never trod before.”

  Gigi pulled her hand back. “I hear bullshit, Tansy. You are not a psychic. Women are going to throw rotten tomatoes at us for ruining the chili cook-off and our husbands might even divorce us. So by damn, with stakes that high, y’all had best help me find a recipe that will win this contest.”

  Sugar held up her hand. “I’m on the decorating committee. That means I’ll take care of the shirts, the tent, and the logo. Y’all have to find the recipe.”

  “Hell, if you will,” Tansy said. “I’m not wearing a shirt with Red-Hot Bloomers plastered across the front and a Bible verse on the back. You don’t order a damn thing without our consent and that means all seven of us, not just a nod from Alma Grace. I do give you credit for your sermon that convinced her to at least join the team, though.”

  “I was thinking of ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,’ or something like that. It wouldn’t have to be in big letters.” Sugar pouted.

  “No religious stuff,” Gigi said. “We’ll beat Lenny without the help of the angels.”

  Chapter 7

  Gigi talked and Hank sipped his scotch with his long legs propped up on a hassock in front of his favorite chair and didn’t interrupt one time as she talked and talked and talked.

  “Well?” she asked after a full minute had elapsed at the end of her speech.

  Had he not heard a word she said? She’d worried all day about how to approach him with the idea and he hadn’t butted in one single time. It damn sure wasn’t the time for him to daydream about oil wells and cows.

  “Sounds like your mind is made up,” he said.

  “Lenny has to pay,” she answered.

&nb
sp; “Wouldn’t it be easier to just shoot him?”

  “Then he’d be dead. This way he’ll have to live with the fact that he’s a loser,” Gigi said.

  “That’s asking a lot for a little revenge.”

  “It’s not for me or even for Sugar. I can’t say it’s even for the broken candlesticks, although I figure my mama is sending some karma out from the grave and Lenny is in deep shit. Don’t tell Tansy I said that or she’ll be saying that Mama was a psychic, too. This is for Carlene. Kitty came to the shop today and called her fat,” Gigi said.

  Hank jumped up so fast that he was a blur. “Kitty Lovelle said what?”

  “She said that she never understood why her precious son married a fat woman,” Gigi said.

  She’d fussed and fumed around with arguments about why she’d be gone so much in the evenings for the next few weeks and all it took was one sentence and one three-letter word—F-A-T—to do the trick. Carlene had always been built just like Hank’s grandma, whom he adored. Tall, big boned, never skinny even in high school—but she’d been the president of her class all four years of high school, on the debate team, played basketball and volleyball, and as her senior picture above the mantel portrayed, had been a beautiful woman. He didn’t see Carlene as anything other than his gorgeous daughter.

  “You can go to Mexico and learn to make the hottest damn chili in the world. I’ll pay for the cooking lessons myself. That woman and her son have to be taught a lesson,” Hank said.

  Shit! Why hadn’t she thought of going to Mexico? She and her sisters hadn’t been on an all girls’ vacation in two years and they were due one. But they couldn’t give Lenny the satisfaction of having professional chili makers teaching them how to cook. No, sir, they had to win fair and square. And he couldn’t have even one excuse when it was all said and done.