by Linda Apple
The doorbell rang, and Jema nudged the door open balancing a platter of chicken wings. “Am I too early?”
“Get yourself in here, girl.” I took the tray from her. “Especially when you are carrying a plate of wings. Martini?”
“Yes, please. I’ve been on my feet all day.”
I poured vodka in the shaker full of ice. “Shaken or stirred?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Sugar, you can do the Charleston with it if you want. Just pour.”
I poured one for Jema and one for me. I handed her a glass and clinked mine against it. “Here’s to Martini Mondays.”
“Martini Mondays.” She took a sip and rolled her eyes. “Yum.”
The cold vodka warmed my throat leaving a vaporous trail of relaxation. I took another sip and smiled. “The others better hurry, or we will be as drunk as coots before they get here.”
“Not if I can help it.” Molly Kate walked in with a huge dish of chocolate chip cookies. “Fresh from the oven.” She set it on the table, picked up a cookie, and broke it in half. Melting chocolate threaded between the halves.
I’m doomed.
Avalee stepped in with a tray of raw veggies. Figures. As if she read my mind she held up her hand. “Don’t worry. Momma made some dip, guaranteed to add to our derrières. I’ll be right back.” She went out to the wagon she’d pulled behind her and picked up a crock-pot. When she passed by me she lifted the lid.
“Oh, wow. That smells divine. What is it?”
“Sausage cheese dip.” Smirking she added, “Momma didn’t like my yogurt-dill dip suggestion.”
Molly Kate put her hands on her hips. “Well, we can thank the good Lord for that.”
I made room on the table for the dip. “Why don’t you go and get your mom? Have her join us.”
“No, she’s busy cooking for tomorrow. Right now she’s spreading her eight-layer yellow cake with chocolate icing.”
“Who’s coming for supper tomorrow?” Molly Kate bit into the cookie half.
“Ty Jackson. That’s who.” I answered while shaking the martinis.
Molly arched her eyebrows. “Ty Jackson?”
Avalee shrugged. “He wanted to catch up. We are going to talk about old times. Marc and all.”
I handed Avalee and Molly Kate their glasses then lifted mine. “To the women of Washington Avenue. Knock ’em back, girls. We’ll sip later.”
On our second round, we filled our plates and nestled together on the couch in front of the television.
“Lord, we look like a pile of puppies,” said Molly Kate. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Sure is. Now get ready to laugh, girls.” I clicked the remote to start the Lucy DVD. “We’ll start with Vitametavegimin seeing how we are on our second martini.” We sipped and howled for the next thirty minutes. Then I served the fudge for the chocolate factory episode. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I had two bathrooms. Every few minutes one of us ran cross-legged to the toilet—another annoying thing about being over fifty.
When the show was finished I stretched. “Okay, that’s all for Lucy. Now what do we have to laugh at?”
“I just happen to have something.” Avalee yanked a paper from her purse. “Okay, y’all. Listen to the latest madness installment from our very own Lexi Lowe.”
“No. Wait until we’ve had our third round.” I shook, poured, and then dropped a small piece of fudge in each glass. “Prepare to be amazed.”
Jema squinted at her glass. “What the...?”
“Hush up and drink.” I nudged her with my elbow. “It’s dessert. Think of it as a variation of a chocolate martini.”
“Oooh.” She stuck her finger in and worked the candy up the side, then took a small bite and chased it with a sip of vodka. “Hey, that’s good.”
“Would I lead you astray?” I glanced at Molly Kate who had just opened her mouth to say something. “Don’t answer that.”
Avalee clapped her hands together like our first grade school teacher, Mrs. Frost. “Now, y’all, pay attention.”
“Wait. I have an observation to make.” I couldn’t resist pointing this out. “Have y’all noticed how southern Avalee is when she is three sheets to the wind? Those Yankees didn’t ruin her after all.” Plunging my finger into my Grey Goose, I pulled out the fudge and took a bite before plopping it back in the glass. Then I waggled my fingers. “Continue.”
“You know what you can kiss.” She cleared her throat and did her best to imitate my voice while reading my column.
At the flaccid reference, Molly Kate spit vodka halfway across the room. “Mercy, Lexi. I can’t believe you wrote that.”
“Well, it’s true, and don’t try and tell me you don’t agree with everything in that column.”
“I’m not saying I don’t.” She took a napkin and blotted her mouth. “After my husband died, I wanted to date again. But it was like I’d become invisible. Anytime I went out with my daughter, men made eye contact with her, spoke to her, waiters even asked her for my order. I finally managed to meet some guys. And you are exactly right, Lex. Some guys in their late fifties and sixties think they are players. I’ve found that if they are broke, they will date an older woman because they want someone to take care of them. But if they have money, then they want perfect little Barbie dolls with six inch waists and big boobs.”
She finished her martini and held the tiny piece of fudge between her fingers. “I’m sticking with my cat. I’m D.O.N.E.” With dramatic flourish she popped the candy in her mouth.
“Preach it, sister.” I stood and high-fived her.
“I’ll bet I have the best disaster date story.” Jema held her glass out toward me. “No vodka, just fill it with fudge.”
“Would you like coffee with your fudge,” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Please,” said Jema.
Seemed everyone else did, too, so I hurried to the kitchen to make a pot. “Don’t say a word until I get back.” When I returned with the coffee and fixings, we filled our cups, loaded up on cookies and fudge. Even Avalee. Will wonders never cease?
“Okay, you were saying?” I bit into a cookie, rolled my gaze to the ceiling, and closed my eyes. As the name of Molly’s business says, it was a taste of heaven.
“So, as I was saying, about a year after Ray died, I met this really nice guy who started volunteering at the shelter. He asked me out to supper, and I decided why not? You know? We had a nice time and went out again. After several dates, he told me he wanted to take me to the Country Club. I had a feeling this was leading to something special, but then again, I had this weird sense about him, too. He seemed, well, secretive.” She popped a piece of fudge in her mouth and moaned. “Oh my. This fudge is out of this world.” She picked up another piece. “Anyway, he got us a table overlooking the lake. It was so romantic. He ordered for us: artichokes and drawn butter, palm salad, lobster, parmesan au gratin potatoes, and baked Alaska for dessert.”
“Stop, you are making me hungry.” Molly Kate reached for another cookie.
“Well, it was delicious. And the wine?” Jema waved her hand. “Nothing but the best.” She leaned forward. “The bill was over two hundred dollars.” With dramatic flourish she poked the fudge between her lips.
“For heaven’s sakes,” I said. “My husband was a doctor and he never spent that kind of money on me.”
“Wait. You haven’t heard anything yet. All evening I kept picking up on a weird vibe. After we finished dessert, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye. I didn’t know what to make of it. When the waiter left the bill, he reached for his wallet, then shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Looks like I forgot my wallet, doll. Did you bring a credit card?’”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Molly shook her head. “That’s the oldest con game there is.”
“He apologized over and over, but I knew I’d been had. He was too animated and at the same time, his eyes were, well, it was like there was laughter behind them. I said to myself, ‘Well mister
, two can play at this game.’ So I gave him my biggest smile, patted his hand and said, ‘Oh, you poor thing. You must be so embarrassed.’ He said he was and would pay me the next day. I thought, yeah, right. Sure you will. So I suggested he order another bottle of wine. You should have seen his face. He thought he had a real sucker. And can you believe this? He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. When the waiter came to our table, he ordered a two-hundred-dollar bottle. Now the bill was over four hundred dollars. So, after the waiter poured, we toasted each other. Then I excused myself and said I needed to go to the bathroom. When I left the table I marched my butt out and called a cab. About twenty minutes later he texted me and asked if I was all right. I texted back, Yes. Never better. I’m on my way home.” She fanned herself. “You should have read the hateful messages and foul language he texted.”
“Bravo, Jema.” I was so peeved, I ate more fudge.
“Wait. That isn’t all. A couple of days later I get this call from a woman about the texts I’d sent him. It turns out he was married. And apparently I wasn’t the only woman he’d tried to dupe. He had twenty-two other women’s numbers on his phone.”
“That jerk,” I said. “I feel for his poor wife.”
“I realized I had met her before,” said Jema. “A few weeks later she came through my line at the grocery store. I realized I’d seen her before. She was the nice lady who used to work at the bookstore. When I saw her name on the check I nearly fell out. Of course, I didn’t say anything to her.”
“Men just don’t know a good woman when they see one,” said Molly Kate.
The evil twin who lives in my psyche took control of my mouth. “Well, I doubt Avalee agrees with you.”
Avalee looked up. “What?”
“Ty Jackson came into my office, and I thought the poor boy was going to step on his tongue. He definitely knows a good woman when he sees one. In fact, I have a hunch he has the hots for her.”
Avalee pointed at me. “Now Lexi...”
Molly Kate looked from me to Ava. “Ty Jackson? How old is that boy?”
“I don’t know. But I do know he likes older women, and he has his eye on our Avalee.”
“He does not.” Ava hit me with her pillow. “And this subject is closed.”
A sly smile stole over Jem’s face. “Honey, surely you know that no subject is ever closed with Lexi.”
“Or sacred.” Molly Kate stood and stretched. “It’s getting late. Time for me to stumble home.”
Jema yawned. “Me too. Coming Avalee?”
“Yes.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “And you behave. You know there isn’t anything to Ty coming over tomorrow.”
“Sure I do.” And I did. There was definitely something to it.
Chapter 8
MOLLY
Confession
Note to self: Never. Ever. Under no circumstances. Ever drink three martinis in one night even if there is fudge in them. I pushed my palms against my temples and leaned against the kitchen counter. Suck it up, girl. You should suffer, fool.
Gypsy weaved between my feet and stared at me with emerald eyes. “Rrrowrr?”
“Time for breakfast. I know.” I felt my way to the pantry and fumbled for a can of cat food. When I snapped open the lid the odor of whitefish pâtè nearly made me double over the sink and throw up the apple peels I ate when I was a baby. As fast as I could, I dumped it in Gypsy’s bowl and hurried out of the room.
Ugh. The last thing I wanted to do was go to work. My head throbbed like those irritating subwoofer things in teenagers’ cars. Thank heaven I had the good sense to have the girls open up the shop on time for my caffeine and carbohydrate-addicted clientele, giving me time to recover.
Speaking of addictions, a cup of extra-dark French roast sounded really good. I went back to the kitchen and put a small plastic coffee thingie in my handy-dandy-single-serve coffee pot then pushed brew. This coffee maker rocked, even if, in a few short years, these plastic tubs would overflow every landfill on the planet. I needed to get the refillable ones.
In no time at all, my coffee brewed. The robust steam from my cup soothed me as I slogged to the porch, my favorite place to start the day. When I eased onto the rocking chair, it complained with its usual pop and snap. Sakes. I didn’t need to be reminded about last night’s fudge and cookie binge.
As I sipped my drug of choice, the pounding behind my eyes eased, but the sickening sweet scent from the gardenias in the thick air made me want to throw up. A hot shower might help. But then, so would another cup of coffee. The shower would have to wait.
While nursing my second cup, I flopped in my office chair and checked email. My pulse raced a little when I noticed a message from my online friend, Colin. If the girls knew I’d gotten involved in an Internet relationship they would die, no matter how much I assured them I was being careful. I had given a fake name and said I lived in Tupelo. Everything was perfectly safe, and besides, this was my only choice as I saw it. I may be invisible in public, but not on the Internet.
I clicked on his name while my emotions did a little jig.
Dear Mary,
Sorry I haven’t written in a few days, but when you see the attached picture I think—I know—you will understand. I have been adopted by an abandoned puppy.
I saw the jerk drop her out of his car and roar off. My driveway is long and I was mowing my grass, so the guy didn’t know I was watching him. You should have seen the little thing. She chased after the car yipping. Then she walked back to the place where she was dumped and sat as if she were waiting for him to come back.
Poor baby. I clicked on the attachment. A darling Jack Russell pup stared back at me. Her eyes reminded me of chocolate drops. My heart melted. Not just because of that adorable puppy, but also because of this man who was compassionate toward animals. I scrolled to the next picture of Colin with the pup. I couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t what one would call drop dead gorgeous, but he was really cute. He reminded me of the actor, Bill Murray. His friendly smile and gentle eyes had won me over the first time I saw his photograph. I’d often wondered if he’d sent me a real picture of himself. Now seeing him with the puppy made me confident he had. What a relief. I sent him a real photo of myself, because if he didn’t like full-figured gals, then I wanted him to know I was one of them and there was no need to continue building a relationship. Obviously, it didn’t matter to him. Another reason to like him. Clicking back to the email, I picked up where I’d left off.
I walked down the driveway but stopped a couple of yards away. I didn’t want to scare her. There was no need to worry. She scampered right up to me in little hopping steps. Right away I knew her name was Kricket.
Can you believe that guy? But, on the other hand, I have to give him kudos for not killing her. I live on a rural dirt road and people are always dumping their unwanted animals, old tires, mattresses, you name it.
Oh well, enough of my grousing. I got a sweet girl out of the deal. Maybe one day you will meet her. But you have to meet me first. Been thinking about when that might be?
What have you been up to lately? How is the insurance biz?
Why did I tell him I was in insurance? I didn’t know a thing about it. I’d told this poor man so many lies. At least I’d been truthful about the essentials, like the way I looked, my interests, and beliefs.
In three months and five days I’ll be able to retire. I’m counting the minutes. I have a bucket list. First, meet you. Then I want to redo my kitchen. I really like to cook. I’m always making up new recipes. Who knows? Maybe I’ll write my own cookbook.
I want to travel, too. Maybe a trip to Tupelo? I know, pushing. But really Mary, how much longer? We have been writing back and forth for several months now. I know it was a good idea to not meet at first, but lady, I am falling in love with you. I love your soul, and now I want to meet the owner of that soul. Okay, I know I’m getting mushy.
I have another question. Do you have a Facebook page? I’m thinking abou
t setting one up myself. But that is about as far as I’ve gotten.
Well, Kricket is whining. I’m crate-training her, so I better let her out. Hope to see you sooner than later.
Love,
Colin
Wow.
He’s falling in love with me? And he’s ready to meet me? Was I ready? I liked our agreement to write for a while before making physical or voice contact. After all the losers I’d met on these dating sites and then having to endure a meal with them, I wanted a more controlled environment. Writing. No physical or voice contact. At least while writing I could delete stupid comments. And so far, this arrangement had worked out fine.
I glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of my robe. I had to be at the bakery in less than an hour. Sorry Colin. I’ll have to get back to you later.
Hot water, Camay soap, and thoughts of Colin were the sure cure for a vodka and fudge hangover. When I stepped into the shower, I noticed all I had left of my Camay stash was a tiny, pink sliver. It really irked me that I couldn’t find my favorite soap in stores any longer. Now I had to buy it online. I would add my soap frustration to my whine list for Wednesday.
Gypsy watched me dress, followed me while I looked for my keys, then sat by the door glaring as if to say, it’s time, woman.
“I know you want to go out. I’m almost ready.” Good grief.
As soon as I opened the door, she nearly tripped me in her haste to get out. I turned the lock and hurried to the sidewalk. In my peripheral vision, I saw Felix running toward me waving his hand.
“Miss Molly?”
Oh, Lord. “Felix, is it Miss Cladie? Is she all right?”
“Yes’m, she’s fine. She just sent me to ask you to bring home two loaves of your rosemary garlic bread. She’s got company coming.”
It took a minute for my heart to stop hammering. When I was able to breathe again I said, “Ty Jackson. Right?”
He ran a hand through his tight salt and pepper curls. “I don’t know who is coming. But she shor’ is puttin’ the big pot in the little un.”
“You tell her I’ll bring them by on my way home. By the way, Felix, what can I bring you?”