by Ashton Lee
Maura Beth put down her spoon as her face fell. “Oh, no!”
He had a superior smirk on his face. “Hey, I’m well aware bestest isn’t proper English!”
“No, it’s not that, silly. It’s the baby,” Maura Beth continued. “I hope nothing bad has happened. She and Stout Fella have been waiting for ten long years to get pregnant. Oh, now you’ve got me thinking all sorts of terrible things!”
Jeremy adopted her sudden tone of despair. “Geez, I hadn’t even thought of that angle. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He took another moment. “But you said she was the usual bubbly Becca over the phone.”
“Yes, she definitely was. I didn’t even give her invitation a second thought at the time.”
He dug into more of his cereal. “Well, it’s probably nothing. And you’ll know in a few more hours,” he added, finally. “Maybe it’s just some straightforward good news, and she just wants to share it with all of you first.”
Then Jeremy changed the subject as they cleared the table. “Gotten any new e-mails or phone calls from your parents about the book club visit?”
“Nothing,” Maura Beth said. “I’m just continuing to hope for the best when they get here. After Mama’s last long-distance, diva performance about what clothes she should bring, I decided I’d rather not hear from her until she actually darkens our door. Silence really can be golden sometimes.”
“Well, at least my mom and dad are excited about it all. I know for a fact they’ve always loved everything about Uncle Doug and Aunt Connie’s lodge. And so should we, considering that’s where we first met last year.”
That brought a reflective smile to Maura Beth’s face. “Yep, we were clicking on all cylinders that evening by the fireplace. Can’t remember a single disagreement we had, and we trotted out all the deal breakers—politics, religion, pop culture, you name it. Plus, your parents have just been fantastic to me. They helped me out so much with my book-club ideas up in Brentwood, and your mother’s been a sweetheart over the phone ever since. Can I please just go ahead and adopt them?”
He gave her a chuckle as he rinsed out his coffee cup at the sink. “No worries, Maurie. They’ll be your in-laws soon enough.”
“And I’m really looking forward to that,” she said, leaning into him affectionately. “We’re getting married no matter what my parents throw up against the wall.”
As Maura Beth drove her Prius along the gravel road lined with pink crepe myrtles that led to the Brachles’ sprawling, multicolumned country estate, she was suddenly reminded of the lack of affordable housing throughout Greater Cherico. She and Jeremy had been looking for something larger—just anything at all—for weeks now. But the only new construction within a ten-mile radius was going on out at Justin Brachle’s high-end lake development, and those were exclusively the mega-budget projects of the wealthiest citizens. Meanwhile, there didn’t seem to be much of a market for a new apartment complex of any size anywhere, especially since Cherico was not growing. For the time being, Maura Beth’s efficiency on Clover Street would have to do; she and Jeremy would just have to go the extra mile to avoid getting on each other’s nerves in such a small space. For the most part, they were managing things nicely. Except that she was still somewhat upset by Jeremy’s suggestion over breakfast that had led her to think a tragedy of the highest order might have befallen the Brachle household.
So when Maura Beth followed Becca into her chandelier-hung dining room a few minutes later and saw that her petite girlfriend was still not in maternity clothes, a nearly palpable feeling of panic exploded somewhere deep inside her. It spread from the core of her being all the way out to her fingertips, and she could only hope that the concern was not reading on her face. There was also the problem of thinking of just the right thing to say if the pregnancy had indeed gone awry. She had never been in this position before and wasn’t looking forward to the pressure.
“Always good to get together with the famous Becca Broccoli in her beautiful home,” Maura Beth said, as she admired the pastel blue quatrefoil drapes, Wilson china place settings, and centerpiece of lush green hydrangea cuttings. “And what are you serving us today that smells so heavenly?”
“Oh, it’s just my easy-peasy chicken spaghetti. It should be getting close to golden bubbly in a few more minutes,” Becca told her. “Hope you’re good and hungry. I doubled the recipe, and I’m expecting you girls to take home any leftovers. I mean it—I’ve got all my Tupperware lined up back in the kitchen.”
“I’m sure I’ll do my share of damage,” Maura Beth said, matching the smile on Becca’s face. So far, nothing seemed to be out of kilter, but appearances could be deceiving.
In order, Connie, Periwinkle, and Miss Voncille swept in—all fashionably dressed and coiffed—and they were soon enjoying Bloody Marys and chatting amiably. But it was when Maura Beth saw Becca sipping her cocktail that her heart truly sank. She knew there was no way a responsible pregnant woman would be consuming alcohol. In that case, it was obvious that Becca was putting up a remarkably strong front while steeling herself for the unpleasant revelation that she had indeed lost the baby.
When the time came for everyone to sit down and start enjoying their food, Maura Beth was so preoccupied that she merely pushed hers around her plate. Being the consummate hostess she was, of course, Becca noticed. “I hope there’s nothing wrong with your spaghetti, Maura Beth. Did I go overboard with the cayenne pepper this morning? I’ve been in a spicy mood lately,” she said, her voice the epitome of Southern hospitality.
Maura Beth looked embarrassed and thought on her feet. “Oh, no, Becca . . . it’s delicious as usual. I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was. But don’t worry. I’ll pick up the pace.”
Becca smiled brightly and then chimed her spoon on her water glass a moment later. “Well, ladies, if I recall my Alice in Wonderland correctly, the time has come to talk of other things. I always enjoy getting together with you, of course, but I had another purpose in mind today. I have an important announcement to make, and I trust you’ll all bear with me. This isn’t going to be a particularly easy thing for me to explain, but I want you to hear it from me and not on the street.”
Maura Beth briefly shut her eyes and tried to calm herself. So Jeremy had been right all along! Becca was truly putting on a brave show for the benefit of her dearest friends, bless her heart.
“You four Cherry Cola Book Club members are the first to hear the news,” she began, having everyone’s undivided attention. “Well, other than my Stout Fella, my big, lovable Justin. I haven’t even told the WHYY station manager yet, and I don’t think he’s going to like me much when I’ve done the deed. But here it is, ladies. I’m quitting radio and shutting down The Becca Broccoli Show. I’m putting the old girl and her helpful hints to bed.”
Expecting to hear something entirely different as a result of the dramatic buildup inside her head, Maura Beth was having significant trouble processing the information. Thus, her response was a genuine non sequitur. “But I saw you drinking a Bloody Mary, Becca!”
The others exchanged bewildered glances, but it was Connie who managed to speak up. “What does that have to do with the show?”
“Well . . . I . . . the alcohol . . . the pregnancy,” Maura Beth said, struggling to explain herself. Everything suddenly sounded foolish to her even as it was all coming out of her mouth. How in heaven’s name had she led herself down the garden path and been this far off in her thinking? She couldn’t blame it all on Jeremy. Was the unthinkable happening? Was she becoming the same sort of drama queen her mother had always been and continued to be? Heaven forbid!
Becca’s riff of laughter immediately dissolved the confusion in the room. “Oh, I see what you were thinking. But mine was a Virgin Mary, sweetie. Some extra Tabasco was all the kick it had. I thought you all knew that. I wouldn’t dare touch even a drop of booze.”
Maura Beth decided to save herself further embarrassment and change the subject quickly. “Oh, of
course you wouldn’t. Don’t pay any attention to me. I seem to be rambling today. Anyhow, you were telling us about wrapping up The Becca Broccoli Show. But you haven’t told us why yet.”
“Yes, tell us,” Periwinkle said, still frowning at Maura Beth with a skeptical, sideways glance. “I’ve gotten some of my best food tips from listening to you, Becca. People all over Cherico swear by you. Hey, even The Twinkle’s menu swears by you, girl!”
“I know I do,” Miss Voncille added. “Whenever I want to impress Locke with a new dish, I tune you in and get my pen and paper ready. He thinks I’m an absolute genius in the kitchen.”
Becca surveyed her friends quickly and gave a delicate sigh of satisfaction. “Well, there are two reasons really. The first is the little one growing inside me. In just over five months I’ll be a mother with a precious baby to look after. As you all know, I’ve been wanting that for a long time, and now it’s finally going to happen. Frankly, I just don’t think I’ll have the time anymore to keep coming up with all these recipe ideas, much less show up at the radio station early every morning, what with the diapers I’ll have to change and the formula I’ll have to fix.”
“That sounds so familiar. I remember those hectic days when Douglas and I were on Lindy’s two o’clock bottle schedule. My goodness, we thought we would never get a wink of sleep again. The truth is, a baby turns everything upside down,” Connie observed, reaching over to rub Becca’s arm gently.
“That’s what I’ve been told, but I don’t think I’ll mind in the least.”
“No, you won’t. But I think I heard you say there were two reasons. What was the other one?” Connie continued.
This time Becca’s sigh was drawn-out and weighted with worry as her face clouded over. “It’s because of my Stout Fella. As some of you probably know, he’s been having these horrible stabbing pains in his feet that just won’t go away.” She paused to gesture at the floor with her index finger several times. “I’ve been teasing him that it was all due to wearing those ridiculous cowboy boots of his. Ha! He thinks they help him with his real-estate deals somehow. Talk about your superstitious beliefs! Unfortunately, it turns out he has neuropathy. In fact, he has a condition called insulin resistance, and he’s got to completely change his eating habits. I mean from top to bottom. I’ll have to do a complete makeover of the pantry.”
“But he’s lost all that weight already,” Maura Beth pointed out.
Becca frowned and waved her off. “No thanks to me in the first place. I’ve been fixing him tons of carbs and sweets ever since we got married. Hey, we’ve both even laughed about the way he ‘islands’ his ice cream all the time. But the neurologist up in Memphis said that he could actually reverse this insulin condition if he lost even more weight and paid strict attention to his sugar and carbs intake. I’ve got to try to help him do that now.”
“This sounds almost like diabetes,” Maura Beth said.
“It isn’t yet, but that could be the eventual result if we don’t do something quick. I just hope it’s not too little, too late,” Becca answered, sounding both maternal and determined.
Connie looked puzzled as she patted her big hair. “But haven’t you been including more healthy recipes in your shows lately? Why, Voncille had us all over for breakfast to listen to that very first one where you told your audience you were putting the broccoli back in The Becca Broccoli Show. We just thought that was the cutest thing we’d ever heard.”
Becca waited for the nods of recognition and polite titters to die down. “I appreciate that, but the basis of the show is still plenty of comfort food with carbs and sugar, and that’s not what Justin needs right now. The way I see it, my first obligation is to my husband and child. The show’s been a wonderful creative outlet for me—really, it’s been a great ride. But I think it’s run its course.”
The table went silent for a while as everyone took it all in.
“All I can say is, I’ll miss you on the radio,” Miss Voncille said, finally. “In fact, I know good and well I’ve become addicted to it. I set my alarm every morning so I can get up and hear it. Oh, yes, Locke mumbles and complains, but then he turns over and goes right back to sleep while I head out to the kitchen to have my coffee and listen to you.”
The others were nodding in agreement as Becca quickly replied. “I’m flattered. But I do believe I have something that’ll take care of your withdrawal symptoms.”
Miss Voncille beat the others to the punch. “Oooh, quick! Tell us!”
“Well, I’ve almost finished my Best of Becca Broccoli cookbook that I told y’all about last year at our very first Cherry Cola Book Club meeting. I promise it’ll be out before the baby comes.”
Maura Beth’s sudden inspiration caused an audible gasp as she lightly clapped her hands several times. “And you simply have to have a signing at the library. You’d be our first!”
Becca acknowledged the suggestion with a gracious nod. “I’d be delighted, of course. We’ll nail down a date soon.”
Maura Beth finally felt herself relaxing now that her misguided perceptions had been thoroughly shown up and tossed aside. She also realized that she was actually hungry and began eating in earnest. True, the spaghetti was on the lukewarm side, but she wasn’t going to make a fuss. It was more than enough that Becca’s baby was still tucked away safely. All was right with the known world, both inside and out.
Over after-luncheon coffee and dainty amaretto cookies, the talk shifted to the latest on the upcoming weddings, and Maura Beth offered up a somewhat condensed version of her concerns and expectations when she was prodded. “I suppose I could avoid all controversy and give in to my mother’s demands for a hometown service,” she was saying. “Of course, it would mean going down to New Orleans and dealing with all of her high-maintenance friends, not to mention a hundred-something distant cousins who probably showed up last at my christening. The genealogical aspects of all that just boggles my mind. If I have to deal with our Cudd’n M’Dear and her ilk, I think I might explode!”
Connie managed a pleasant smile while speaking emphatically. “Well, you know Douglas and I are looking forward to meeting your parents, but we don’t have to have the ceremony at the lodge. You can change your mind at any time. I promise we won’t be upset.”
“Maybe they’ll surprise me and actually respect my wishes,” Maura Beth added. “At any rate, Jeremy and I are hoping for a meeting of the minds when the two families get together.”
Miss Voncille dramatically threw her hands in the air. “I certainly hope it works out, but, ladies, I have to confess that Locke and I have just about decided to leave things the way they are. Of course a wedding at this time of my life would be a dream come true for me, but Carla and Locke, Jr. continue to be unbelievably mean and nasty to us. If anything, they’ve gotten worse, and it’s really hurt Locke deeply. As for me, I have a brand-new respect for those who decide not to have children!”
“So you’re saying you might not even get married? I thought everything was all set for late August at the Episcopal Church,” Maura Beth said.
“It was at one time. But we just might not get married at all. Just the other evening I looked Locke straight in the eye and I told him that if his money and property were going to cause all this friction, it would be fine with me if he left me out of the will whether we’re married or not. After all, I have my pension and a little put by. I’ve gotten along just fine all these years on my own.”
“That’s awfully high-minded of you,” Periwinkle said. But there was clearly reservation in her voice. “I’d just like to add that you can’t let people intimidate you like that, Voncille, particularly if they’re close to you and think they can get away with it. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. If you and Locke really want to get married, you should go for it. Stand up for yourselves no matter what happens. You gotta draw the line somewhere.” For a moment it looked as if Periwinkle was going to add something further but apparently thought better of it and mer
ely shrugged her shoulders.
That seemed to have a sobering effect on the group, and Maura Beth decided to change the subject and lighten the mood. “Well, folks, have we all read our Eudora for the book club review this weekend?”
Everyone said they had—except for Periwinkle, who indicated she was on the last chapter and turning the pages as fast as she could. “Since you didn’t have an audio for me to check out this time, I had to sit down and actually read a book for once. I was a little outta practice since it wasn’t one of my menus, you understand,” she added, winking smartly.
“Speaking of menus, I assume everyone has their potluck assignments straight,” Becca said. “Of course I’m bringing the shrimp gumbo in honor of your parents, Maura Beth.”
“Frozen fruit salad!” Connie called out, raising her hand quickly.
“My biscuits and green pepper jelly as usual,” Miss Voncille added, sounding a bit more restrained. “I know it seems like I’m in a rut, but it’s what I do best. So why mess up a good thing?”
Maura Beth was up next. “And I believe I’m doing another chocolate, cherry cola sheet cake.”
“I’m fixin’ grilled chicken breasts!” Periwinkle blurted out, but then cocked her head with a frown. “Oh, wait . . . that’s for the dinner at The Twinkle the night before.” She was obviously concentrating now. “For the review, I believe I’m supposed to bring parmesan-stuffed mushrooms.”
“Very good, gang,” Becca said. “It sure looks like all of us are on the same page then.”
The words stayed with Maura Beth long after the luncheon had ended and she was driving home reviewing everything in her head. She could only wish the weekend would be a matter of menus and that a clash of personalities would not enter into it.
6
Divas at Dusk
The drill was starting to get to Jeremy, but he was reluctant to annoy Maura Beth by saying anything. He knew she was well-intentioned; it was just that she was relentless, and he could only memorize so many pointers at one time.