Agnes pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows into a solid line across narrowed eyes. “I don’t give a flying rat’s ass, Annabel. My niece paid a thousand damn dollars for a cake. We’ll feed it to the congregation over at Darla Jean’s or we’ll sell tickets for people to run and jump in the middle of it like on one of them damn television shows. It’s our cake. Cathy paid for it and we want the damn thing. First Saturday in December, two o’clock. There better be a cake there or I’ll make sure your business does a nosedive.”
She hung up the phone with a loud bang. “Stupid woman thinks she’s going to keep your money and not produce a cake. She’s crazy as hell. I’ll freeze the whole damn thing in portions and take pieces of it to committee meetings before she does a dumb fool stunt like that. Who in their right mind puts morning glories on a wedding cake anyway?”
“Morning glories on a wedding cake? Aren’t you supposed to use roses?” Jack asked.
“Or something exotic like calla lilies,” Marty said.
“Don’t have to worry about it now, do we? Darla Jean’s congregation is going to have red velvet cake with sugar morning glories for refreshments the first Sunday in December.” Agnes grinned.
* * *
Following the heart was Darla Jean’s sermon topic that Sunday morning. It had come to her when she’d talked to Beulah. Poor woman had been distraught over her son buying a house when someday he’d inherit the one she lived in. Darla Jean had quoted scripture about a man following his heart. She had assured Beulah that God was probably using Jack to complete his will and that wonderful things would come to pass because Jack had his own house. They’d had a moment of prayer, and before Darla Jean left, Beulah was already talking about asking the club to host a housewarming for Jack.
The congregation was sparse with only thirty people sitting in front of her. Marty, Cathy, and Trixie sat on the back pew. Jack had slipped in right after the hymns and edged his way in beside Trixie. Darla Jean didn’t care if there were ten people or a thousand sitting in the pews, if they were poor or rich, or if they were clean or slightly dusty. She just hoped that she was preaching to listening hearts.
Cathy listened intently. She didn’t suppose God would approve of her reading material, but she didn’t feel a bit guilty. It was the e-reader that had finally given her the courage to take that ring off. If a man couldn’t make her pant as much as words, then he couldn’t be the right man. Listening to the heart was tough when a woman’s biological clock impaired her hearing. She’d wanted a husband and a baby, but after thinking about it, she hadn’t loved Ethan any more than he’d loved her. They were both marrying for all the wrong reasons and her heart had been trying to make her understand that for a long time.
Marty had a heavy heart that morning. She just knew that Trixie had found out about the vote. She needed to tell her why she’d voted that way, but she’d promised her mother it would stay a secret.
Oh, don’t be silly. I just didn’t want Agnes to know. You can tell Trixie if it means keeping your friendship right. Besides, she’ll help you protect the secret. I trust her.
Marty stole a glance over her shoulder. Claudia Andrews was not sitting on the seat behind her, but she could have sworn that was her mother’s voice whispering in her ear.
Trixie had never seen Jack at the Christian church before that day. He might not have a choice about moving out when his mamma found out. Beulah, along with Agnes and Violet, were dyed-in-the-wool Baptists. Nothing could ever make them switch churches. It had been hard on Agnes when Marty and Cathy started going to Darla Jean’s church. It would come nigh onto giving Beulah a Texas-sized stroke.
Trixie tuned everything out so she could hear her heart, but it wasn’t saying anything. Evidently, it was happy with things just the way they were.
* * *
Angels straight from heaven’s open portals would tremble at the thought of stealing Agnes’s seat on the fourth pew on the east side of the Baptist church in Cadillac. Her grandmother sat in that pew in the days when it was the only church in the area. That was back when there was no town but just a wide spot in the road with a Baptist church and a few farmhouses. Her mother sat in it back when the town was Cornwall, and now it was Agnes’s spot. Even though it didn’t have her name written on a brass plate, nobody ever had the nerve to sit in it, not even when she was absent. It was as much a part of Agnes as her DNA and red hair.
The first hymn had already begun when Violet and Ethan paraded down the center aisle and sat in front of Agnes. Leave it to Violet to wear a swishy red, white, and blue striped dress with a big flowing skirt and a wide belt around her thick middle. The dress looked like it had been made of leftovers from a circus tent, and wide belts didn’t look good on anyone but a runway model. What in the hell was she thinking? She might as well have made a poster board that said Vote for my prissy-assed son Ethan and stood in front of the congregation while the preacher sermonized.
The Good Samaritan was what the preacher talked about after the hymn. He flipped open his Bible to the parable and read the whole thing and then began to preach, saying that we should love our neighbors even with their faults and always offer a helping hand.
That preacher could pucker up and kiss Agnes’s naturally born white ass if he was preaching to her about being nice to Violet Prescott. It wasn’t happening; not in this life or the one to come. Agnes wouldn’t piss on the woman if she was on fire. Violet had been a dagger in her side since they were teenagers. She’d pushed the blade deeper and deeper with her power and money, and then when she was forty years old and had Ethan, she’d stabbed it all the way to the hilt with her honey-coated arsenic remarks about how sorry she was that poor Agnes could never have a darling baby like her Ethan.
Agnes was not feeling one bit of the Good Samaritan attitude when services ended. And she couldn’t even get away from Violet with the traffic jam at the end of the pews. The narrow aisle between the pews and the outer edge of the church was as congested as the center aisle so there was no escape there, either. She tiptoed forward to get a better view of just who was causing the holdup.
Beulah Landry had plugged up the whole line and was weeping on the preacher’s shoulder as he patted her back. She was probably having some kind of major breakdown about Jack going to Darla Jean’s church. Agnes had seen him all dressed up and walking that way that morning and figured Beulah would have a stroke over it, especially coming on the heels of him buying a house. Great God Almighty, the man was past thirty! It was time for him to have his own house. But Beulah could have waited until everyone had a turn at shaking the preacher’s hand before she started carrying on like that.
The sound of tongues clucking up and down the human traffic jam sounded like hens scratching in the barnyard. News of what caused the line to come to a standstill filtered back through the people, but Agnes wasn’t up to clucking. She didn’t give a damn where Jack went to church or even if he did. She just wanted to get away from Violet before the woman started something.
Agnes expected to see Violet in funeral black, no makeup, and red eyes. But she’d fooled her by showing up all flamboyant, which meant she had a plan. Agnes figured it was a conspiracy between her and Beulah, since she kept tiptoeing so she could see the exact moment Beulah hugged the preacher one more time and then moved on outside.
Violet took a handkerchief from her purse when the line moved an inch or two and began to sob. Ethan threw his arm around her and patted her on the shoulder.
“Oh, Agnes,” she cried in a loud voice, “how could your niece trick us like that? It’s horrible, simply horrible.”
The buzz of conversation stopped so quickly that a feather floating down from the church rafters would have sounded like an atomic bomb. Everyone strained their ears toward the two old ladies in the middle of the church. The silence was just plumb eerie.
When Agnes ignored Violet, she sobbed louder, her bright-colored dress sh
aking like a circus tent in the wind. “I just can’t understand why Catherine would do that to us when we all loved her so much. She’s done my poor son so dirty.”
Agnes whipped around to face Violet. “My niece didn’t do a damn thing. You shouldn’t have tried to make her sign that damn pre-dump.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “You made me cuss in church. God should lay that one up to you.”
“Oh, Agnes darlin’, you don’t know? Ethan caught her with another man. Of course, I’m not one to spread gossip so I won’t call names, but he’s a prominent man in Cadillac and a member of the police force. Oh, dear, I hope I don’t get him fired. My poor Ethan is just heartbroken.”
Agnes looked up at Ethan. He looked smug, not heartbroken.
Violet wiped at her eyes and the clucking around her grew in volume. “I’m so sorry to break the news to you. I realize that since you could never have children that you’ve always favored Catherine, but you shouldn’t have put your trust in her. She’s a sneaky, devious person.”
Damn! Where was that shotgun when Agnes needed it anyway? Well, a woman worked with what she had and since her shotgun was at home, she doubled up her fist and decked Violet right there in front of the people, the preacher, and even God. The clucking stopped and dead silence reigned. It damn near broke her knuckles, but it was worth every bit of it.
“You hit me, you old witch.” Violet grabbed her eye. “You’ve blacked my eye.”
“Now you got something to really cry about, and we are both seventy-eight so don’t be calling me old! My niece wasn’t with another man and you know it. Think twice before you ever say a bad word about her again.”
The line parted like the Red Sea, and Agnes walked out of the church on burgundy carpet like a celebrity going out to meet the paparazzi.
Chapter 12
The concession stand offered hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, candy, nachos, and cold drinks. Two firemen grilled hamburgers and hot dogs out back between the building and the chain-link fence, but only Trixie and Jack had shown up to run the concession stand where they’d sell their wares. Jack propped up the front window to a long line of people already waiting to buy food.
“Whew!” Trixie said.
“Ah, we can do it,” Jack said. “You are Wonder Woman and I’m Superman.”
“Really?” She laughed.
“Oh, yeah! I put our capes in a safe spot. Wouldn’t want to get mustard all over them.”
Agnes brought a tray of hot dogs in the back door. “Capes. We got to wear capes. Nobody told me we had to get dressed up. I could’ve gotten into Bert’s trunk and found his fireman’s outfit.”
Trixie’s day just turned from bad to worse. “What are you doing here?”
“I come to poison Violet,” Agnes said.
“Shh. Someone will hear you,” Trixie said.
“I’ll take the money then,” Agnes said. “Cathy is right behind me. She’s got a box of pecan tarts from Clawdy’s. She can take the orders. People can pay me. I’m damn good at the money business. Then you two can make the orders and Cathy can deliver them.”
Trixie lowered her chin and looked over the top of her sunglasses. “No poison?”
Agnes giggled. “Don’t you know a joke when you hear one? I left the arsenic at home, but that don’t mean I wouldn’t do it.”
“And you can’t hit her,” Cathy said.
“My fist is still sore and her black eye ain’t healed yet. But I’m tellin’ both of you, if she starts it, I ain’t backin’ down.”
Cathy patted her on the shoulder. “Violet wouldn’t start anything today. She’ll be on her best behavior because Ethan is speaking tonight. Here’s a stool for you to sit on and there’s the money box.”
“Thank you both for showing up,” Trixie said. “I appreciate the help.”
Agnes settled in at the end of the serving shelf. “No thanks necessary. I came to help Cathy. Don’t think I came down here to help you.”
“Ah, come on, Agnes. You know you love me,” Trixie said.
“Of course she does. Everyone loves Trixie.” Jack chuckled.
“If everybody jumped off the cliff, I would not join them,” Agnes snapped. “And if Jesus loved Trixie, I still wouldn’t.”
“Aunt Agnes, be nice. What can I get you, Darla Jean?” Cathy asked the first customer.
“Nachos with an extra spoonful of picante if it came from Miss Clawdy’s, but if it didn’t, then leave it off and a cup of hot chocolate. It’s getting cold out here.”
Her order was ready by the time she reached Agnes with her money.
They quickly fell into their roles and a dozen customers later, Cathy looked up to see Violet staring right at her. “What can I get you today?”
Violet tilted her chin up two notches and looked down her nose at Cathy. “I’ll have two hot dogs, two Diet Cokes, and those last two pecan tarts. I suppose Marty made them, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cathy said. “Pay Agnes and that will be right out.”
Violet lowered her voice so that the people around her would have to strain to catch the words. “Catherine, honey, I don’t carry grudges. Ethan and I both hope you are very happy in your new relationship. We just wish you would have been honest and not played him along so long. He’s heartbroken.”
Trixie yelled from the workstation in the middle of the stand, “Hello, Violet. Did I hear you say that Ethan is very happy in his new relationship? Cathy always knew that he and Anna Ruth had a thing for each other and now they can be together. Ain’t that nice?”
“Did I hear my name?” Anna Ruth said from two people back down the line.
“Yes, we were just saying how wonderful it is that Cathy was willing to give the ring back when she found out Ethan was in love with you,” Trixie hollered over the crowd.
“Oh, my!” Anna Ruth gasped.
“Well crap, now I’ve let the cat out of the bag. I’m so sorry. I guess he was waiting until after the election to declare himself.” Trixie lowered her voice, but only slightly.
Jack’s shoulders rocked as he held in the laughter. Trixie was Wonder Woman, in the flesh!
Violet clamped her mouth shut and moved down to Agnes. She threw a bill on the counter and Agnes counted out her change. Cathy set the order in front of Violet, and Agnes removed the tarts.
“Those are my tarts. I already paid for them so you can’t have them. All we got left is two pieces of fudge and I will promise you that I did not put poison in them even though it crossed my mind.”
“Ethan doesn’t eat fudge. It’s too sweet for him. Give me both pieces though and don’t you dare charge me double for that fudge. I’m not paying a penny more for it than I would a pecan tart,” Violet said through clenched teeth.
Agnes pulled two thick pieces of fudge wrapped in cellophane from under the counter and put them on the tray for Violet. “Honey, I’m giving you the fudge since I’d already spoken for the tarts. Now you be sure that tray gets brought back here and don’t leave it settin’ on the bleachers or the cleanup crew will throw it away.”
Violet didn’t even answer.
“You said you wouldn’t poison her?” Trixie asked.
“I didn’t!” Agnes protested.
“Why did you only bring two pieces?” Cathy whispered.
“It’s all I had left in the pan and I know how she loves fudge. I didn’t even spit on it, I promise. Remember what your mamma taught you about catchin’ flies with honey? Maybe that fudge will sweeten her up.”
* * *
The new bathroom facilities were supposed to be finished in time for football season to start in September. But on the last Saturday in October, they were still nothing more than pipes sticking up out of a concrete floor surrounded by block walls about four feet high. Even though the existing facilities were in bad repair and entirely too small, they had to work
for one more football season. Marty had been at the tail end of a dozen people waiting in line in front of the ladies’ room when Violet Prescott rushed around the field, her high heels making holes in the grass along the way.
Gossip had already solidified the whole rumor about Ethan and Anna Ruth into the gospel truth. Seeing Anna Ruth right smack beside Ethan, handing out little flags while he handed out his cards, just put more meat into the story. Everyone forgot all about the rumor that Cathy was sleeping with a policeman. Now they focused on Ethan and wondered if he’d marry Anna Ruth before the election. Would he give her the same engagement ring that he’d given Cathy or would she get something even bigger just to show the world that he loved her more than he had Cathy? Would Anna Ruth sign the prenup?
Violet fidgeted and even moaned a couple of times as the line moved slowly forward. Marty tried her best to ignore the woman, but that wasn’t happening.
“This is ridiculous. I never realized how bad we need bigger restrooms,” Violet said.
“This is the last season we’ll have to use these bathrooms. The new ones should be finished for next year,” Marty said.
Violet whimpered and crossed her legs. “Why is it taking so long?”
Marty nodded toward the door. “A lady took six little girls in. Here she comes out now.”
“We’re only going in to freshen up our makeup. We’ll let y’all cut in line,” a young teenager offered.
Violet and Marty moved up closer to the front.
“I’m sorry to take up space. We were waiting on our kids. They went in with Scarlett. You can move on up here,” another person said.
When Scarlett brought those little girls out of the bathroom, Violet took off like a teenager on a cross-country run. She threw the door open to the first stall and disappeared in a blur.
“You okay in there?” Marty asked while she washed her hands.
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