Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits)

by Martha Rogers

  Biloxi Brides

  (Formerly titled Sugar and Grits)

  Grab a glass of sweet tea and meander down to the edge of the Biloxi to meet three of the South’s most unlikely brides. Loaded with southern hospitality and charm, Biloxi Brides will leave hankerin’ for fried catfish, pecan pie, and a fishing pole. It will also make you want to snuggle up close to the southern gentleman of your dreams.

  Not on the Menu

  (by Martha Rogers)

  Widow Dottie Jean Weaver is heading toward her fifty-fifth birthday, but love is standing in the background when she encounters an old high school flame.

  Gone Fishing

  (by Janice Thompson)

  Sassy Hatchet, a widow in her fifties, is known for her peculiar temperament. She thinks she has life all figured out until God does something unexpected.

  Falling for You

  (Kathleen Y’Barbo)

  Sue Ellen Caldwell is living out her dream as a hairdresser at the Rhonda-Vous Beauty Shop. She and the town's deputy sheriff have been friends since their school days, but does God have something else in mind for them?

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the authors.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Not on the Menu

  By

  Martha Rogers

  Not on the Menu

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  Not on the Menu

  By

  Martha Rogers

  “In his heart man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.”

  Proverbs 16:9 (NIV)

  Chapter One

  Dottie Jean Weaver slumped into a chair thankful the noon crowd had thinned. The older she got, the harder it became to stand on her feet and wait tables for several hours. No matter that she owned the place and could let others do the serving, she’d known most of Calista’s citizens for more years than she liked to count and enjoyed seeing them.

  She gazed at the two men seated a few tables away. Calista’s sheriff, Bud Briggs, and the local mailman, Wendell Meeks, sat enjoying a long lunch break. No doubt they waited for her two friends to come for a tea break.

  Wendell held up his mug. “Dottie Jean, how about some more coffee over here?”

  She pushed herself up from her chair. No matter how tired she became, her customers would be served. Dottie Jean retrieved the carafe from the counter and headed for the table.

  “Think I’ll have a piece of your pecan pie to go with it, if you don’t mind.”

  She poured the hot liquid into his mug then went back for the pie. When she set the plate on the table, Dottie Jean noted a tiny coffee stain on Wendell’s otherwise impeccable mail carrier shirt. She’d never seen a man more proud of his uniform than him, and if she mentioned the spot now, it’d ruin his day. She clamped her mouth shut.

  Sheriff Briggs held up his cup. “May as well pour some for me while you’re here.”

  Dottie Jean grinned at the two men, the urge to tease a little taking over. “Staying late for lunch today aren’t you? Didn’t realize my pie and company were that good.” She glanced at Sheriff Briggs’ plate. “You’re not having any pie?”

  The sheriff patted his lean frame. “Don’t think so. Not that it wouldn’t be good, but gotta keep in shape.”

  Dottie Jean couldn’t help but chuckle at that. She set the coffee pot back on the warmer and sauntered back to her place of rest. Truth was she had to bake more pecan pies for the dinner crowd. Some days, she couldn’t seem to bake enough to fill the sweet tooth of Calista’s residents. But right now, she intended to enjoy this time of rest in the afternoons. She glanced out the restaurant window and spotted Sassy and Sue Ellen heading her way for their afternoon break.

  She called over to the two men, “Say, I do believe two ladies are coming this way. Must be the ones you’re a waitin’ for.”

  Wendell’s face turned crimson. “Aw, no, Dottie Jean. I just love your pecan pie. Besides, I finished my route for the day. All the mail is safely delivered.” He shoveled a bite into his mouth obviously to prove his point.

  She swallowed the laughter threatening to leave her throat. Neither Wendell nor Sheriff Briggs fooled her at all. A clatter at the door announced the arrival of the ladies.

  Sassy pushed through the door first and yanked off her fishing cap and let her gray hair fall to her shoulders. “Hi, Dottie Jean. We’re ready for a cold drink.”

  Sue Ellen plopped into the nearest chair and stretched out her long legs. “Whew, sure feels good to get off my feet. Friday’s a busy day at the salon.”

  Dottie Jean slid her sore feet back into SAS shoes and walked over to the beverage center. One thing for sure, nothing fake or put on with these two ladies. What you saw was what you got, which was always best.

  She picked up the iced tea pitcher from the counter. Out of the corner of her eye she watched old Wendell sit up straighter, and Bud Briggs suck his stomach up to his chest. Just like Sassy’s old rooster strutting before his hens.

  Wendell walked over to the ladies table and greeted them. “Afternoon, Sassy, Sue Ellen.”

  Dottie Jean chuckled. The way his postal uniform hung from his bony frame reminded her of the scarecrow in Mama’s victory garden back during the big war.

  Sassy raised an eyebrow. “What are you still doing here?” She peered in the sheriff’s direction. “And I could ask the same of you, Bud.”

  Deputy Briggs almost tipped over the table in his haste to stand. He hurried to Wendell and slapped him on the shoulder, his face as red as the napkins on the table. “We were just leaving. Weren’t we, Wendell?”

  Perspiration beaded on Wendell’s upper lip. He just nodded, his head looking like one of those bobble head dolls so popular these days.

  The two men hurried from the restaurant like a posse was on their tail. Dottie Jean shook her head and poured tea into the glasses for Sassy and Sue Ellen. Wendell’s interest in Sassy had only recently surfaced, but she hadn’t returned the sentiment.

  Dottie Jean eased back into her chair. “Those two. You know they were waiting for you.”

  Sue Ellen fingered her curly hair. “Of course, but we can’t let on we know. Have to let them think we don’t care. Right Sassy?”

  Sassy snorted. “Speak for yourself, friend. I don’t care what Wendell thinks. I haven’t got time for flirtin’ with a grown man.”

  Like she hadn’t been seen gazing after him when he visited her bait shop. Dottie Jean poked at Sue Ellen. “And what about you? Sheriff Briggs been eyeing you like a ripe tomato ever since you came back to Calista.”

  “I know, but I’m not interested in such foolishness.”

  Sassy leaned forward. “Speaking of food, is that one last piece of pecan pie from lunch I see over yonder?” She pointed to the glass covered pie server on the counter.

  “Believe it is. Ju
st waiting for you.” Dottie Jean wrapped her hands around the ice-cold glass of tea.

  Sue Ellen shook her head. “Sassy, you need that piece of pie like I need two heads.”

  “Okay, I’ll just eat half.” Sassy swatted at her well-padded hip. “Don’t need to be putting too many calories on here.”

  Dottie Jean choked back her mirth. Dear, sweet Sassy. Rough around the edges and pure cream puff inside.

  Sue Ellen raised her hand. “Then bring the rest to me. I’m not worried about my figure.”

  Sassy laughed and cut the piece in half before returning with it to the table.

  Dottie Jean gazed around the now empty restaurant, thankful for the time each afternoon she could spend with her friends. They always managed to cheer her up and take away the tiredness.

  Suddenly she noticed the silence. “What? You two are staring at me like I had grown horns or something.”

  Sassy ate the last bit of pie. “Just wondering where your mind is.”

  “Just thinking how nice it is to sit with you two every afternoon.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than another voice called from the back of the restaurant. “Mother!”

  Dottie Jean shoved back her chair. “Oh dear. What have I done now? Jen’s got that tone in her voice. I feel like a school kid called in to see the principal. Might as well get it over with. With that tone of voice she won’t like to be kept waiting.” She scrambled back to the office and peeked through the door to find her daughter seated behind the desk with piles of papers stacked haphazardly across it.

  Dottie Jean ran her hands down the sides of her apron. “I’m right here. What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t find the invoice for this month’s food bill.”

  “It’s here somewhere.” She began flipping through a group of papers.

  Jenny stood with arms crossed over her chest and tapped her foot, just like her daddy used to do. “I don’t see how you can find anything on this desk.” She waved her hand toward the stacks. “Why don’t you let me put all these invoices and receipts on the computer? They’d be so much easier to track.”

  Dottie Jean found the invoice then began hunting for the checkbook. “You know I don’t understand computers. I’d have things in a bigger mess than they are now.”

  “Not if you let me handle the business end of the diner. You could devote all your time to the menu, ordering food, and taking care of your customers.”

  Dottie Jean raised her eyebrows. “That would be nice, but you know how I want to keep involved with the business, too.”

  Jenny shook her head. “Mom, don’t you understand? Ever since Daddy died and the boys left, I’ve wanted to help run the diner. I love this place. It reminds me of Daddy and all the good times I had here growing up.”

  Dottie Jean leaned over and patted her daughter’s hand. “I know, I know, and someday I will give it all to you, but just not yet.”

  Jenny giggled. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around until then.”

  She hugged her daughter. “I love you, sweetie. I’m heading back out to the dining room. You can organize and make improvements all you want. Buy a computer if you think it’ll help. Call your brother and get his advice. That’s his job.”

  When she returned to the main dining area, her friends had gone back to work. She placed the dirty dishes on a tray and headed to the kitchen. Jenny met her in the hallway.

  “I talked to Bill and he’s going to take care of getting us a computer. He’ll even bring it down and install it.” She handed over a stack of envelopes to mail.

  “Good. Maybe you can make sense out of my clutter.” Which, to tell the truth, would be a great relief. Dottie Jean spotted Wendell outside. She picked up the envelopes from the counter and ran out to catch him. “Hey, Wendell. I have mail here. Can you take it with you and save me a trip to the post office?”

  “Sure thing, Dottie Jean.” He hitched up his mailbag on his shoulder. “Be glad to take it for you. Sure enjoyed lunch today. Your pies and Junior Lee’s cooking keep Catfish House one of the top restaurants in all of Mississippi.”

  Dottie Jean laughed and handed him the envelope. “Thanks. Junior Lee’s the best around these parts, and I taught him all he knows.”

  “Well, you sure did a good job, Miss Dottie.”

  Once Wendell made his way down the street, Dottie Jean stood on the porch of the Catfish House taking in the sights of Calista’s citizens going about their business. A few tourists wended their way down the streets taking a few moments to gaze into the windows of the many gift shops along the way. Soon many of them would be heading here for a good evening meal.

  A black luxury sedan pulled up to the curb in front of the antique store. An unusual sight, it caught Dottie Jean’s interest immediately. She observed a tall, lean man with graying hair emerge from the car. He turned and gazed toward the diner.

  Dottie Jean gasped and darted back inside. Fletcher Cameron. It can’t be. She hadn’t seen anything of him but an occasional picture in the newspaper since their high school days in Jackson—forty-seven years ago now. What was he doing in Calista?

  ***

  So this was the town his son had praised for its quaintness and good catfish. Fletcher Cameron peered through the window of the antique store and smiled. Barb would have loved this place.

  He glanced at his watch. Perhaps some shopping then a walk through town would take up time before his usual dining hour. He turned and headed north to window-shop.

  After visiting several stores, he purchased a toy airplane for his grandson and walked back out to the main street. It lived up to the description given by his son, quaint and low key. He loved his visits to small towns in his home state more than any others. When Kevin had suggested Calista for its seafood, Fletcher jumped at the chance to try the catfish firsthand.

  The Catfish House had opened its doors for evening diners, and Fletcher joined them. Only a few scattered empty tables remained when he entered the diner. An attractive young woman who looked vaguely familiar greeted him then led him to an empty table for two by the window. She handed him a menu after he was seated.

  Fletcher gazed around the room. He had expected paper napkins and plastic cloths, but navy check and red check cotton covers alternated on the tables with matching linen napkins. Photographs of fishing boats and fishermen with their catches adorned the walls. Behind an old-fashioned counter with stools, a large blackboard announced the specials of the day.

  Another young woman smiled at him. “Hi, I’m Allie May. What would you like to drink?”

  Fletcher returned the smile. The waitress reminded him of his youngest daughter, now in college. “I’ll have iced tea, please.”

  “Coming right up.” She scurried off to the kitchen.

  He peered around the room until he came to a woman near the cash register. Her profile looked familiar, and he searched his memory for a name. Suddenly she erupted into laughter. The tinkling sound reached his ears and then she turned toward him and their gazes locked. Her laughter stopped. She gasped.

  Fletcher sucked in his breath. He recognized the voice but couldn’t put a name with it.

  Some called her name—Dottie Jean.

  Dottie Jean Miller. Of course, it had to be her.

  Chapter Two

  There he stood. Fletcher Cameron in her restaurant. Dottie Jean choked back her nervous fears. A customer called to her, and when he did, the light of recognition dawned on Fletcher’s face. He did remember her. Go over and say hello. Just talk to him. Her mind gave the instructions, but her feet refused to obey. She took a deep breath then willed herself to walk his direction.

  His face wore the same lopsided smile she remembered from their yearbook. “Fletcher Cameron. What brings you to these parts?”

  He stood and grabbed her hand, glancing down at the name tag on her blouse. “It is Dottie Jean Miller. I thought I recognized you. Are you with someone? Can you sit down for a few minutes?”

  Did
she really have the time? Who was she kidding? She hadn’t gone home after seeing him on the street, changed clothes, and fixed her hair just to stop and say hello to this man. “I’d love to sit and chat.”

  He grinned. “My son recommended the Catfish House when he returned from a trip along the coast a few weeks ago. It’s a nice looking place.”

  Allie Mae set glasses of water and tea on the table. She peered down at them. “Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Weaver?”

  “You can bring out a basket of cornbread and hush puppies.” From the corner of her eye she caught Fletcher Cameron looking at her with arched eyebrows and a grin.

  “Mrs. Weaver, huh.” He snapped his fingers. “If I remember correctly, you and Hank eloped not long after graduation.”

  Heat rose in Dottie Jean’s cheeks. “Yes, we did.”

  Fletcher nodded. “When I came home from camp that summer, you two were the talk of the town. Hank was the best tight end on the football team and absolutely crazy about you. How is he?”

  She rolled the napkin with the silverware in it back and forth a few times. “He died several years ago from a heart attack out on his boat.”

  Fletcher reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. His face revealed true concern. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine a man as robust and healthy as Hank having a heart attack.”

  “It was hard to believe, but the doctor said it was coronary disease just like his father. What about you? Did you marry Barbara?”

  He took a deep breath. “Barbara passed on two years ago. Breast cancer.”

  Sympathy squeezed her heart. She understood his sorrow. “Oh, no. Not gorgeous Barbara? I remember her as the most beautiful homecoming queen our school ever had. I’m so sorry.”

  Allie Mae returned at that moment with the breads. She poised her pencil over her pad. “Would you like to order now?”