Anna Ruth’s music finally began. Annabel fluffed out her train so everyone could see the seed pearl J and the hearts and then she quickly cut a circle around the outside of the pews to take her place on the front pew.
Fresh roses were laced into Anna Ruth’s hair, styled like a medieval princess with a crown braid. She carried an enormous bouquet of red roses and it would take an expert to ever find Cathy’s simple dress under all those flowers and pouf. She set her eyes on Andy and didn’t even look at the crowd.
Agnes leaned over to Cathy and whispered, “Were you really going to wear that thing? It looks like shit.”
“It’s sure not the dress I bought. She’s made lots and lots of adjustments to it,” Cathy answered.
John slipped an arm around her waist. “I hope you were serious about running away to the beach. All this stuff is making me claustrophobic.”
“Very.” She kissed him on the cheek.
Bows the size of blow-up beach balls graced every single pew. And in the middle of each was a silk red rose with wedding bells hanging on white satin ribbons below it. Arched white iron candelabra entwined with illusion, greenery, and red roses and burning brightly with dozens of candles decorated the pulpit.
“I hope all those candles don’t set the church on fire. Can you imagine how hot it is up there?” Trixie whispered to Agnes.
As if he could discern her voice in the midst of a packed church, Andy’s eyes left Anna Ruth for a second and looked at Trixie. She locked gazes with him and winked.
Midway through the wedding, the sky darkened outside and thunder started grumbling off in the distance. Trixie leaned over and whispered in Agnes’s ear, “It’s going to rain.”
“Bullshit! That’s just God telling Anna Ruth to run one final time,” Agnes whispered back.
Cathy whispered in the other ear, “If it rains, John brought his truck and it’s parked close to the door. You head straight for it.”
“We need rain. I might do a stomp dance right out in the middle of the street. If I’d known all it took was a ridiculous wedding to get us a good soakin’ rain, I would have paid Andy to marry her sooner,” Agnes declared. “I don’t give a shit if he cheats on her tomorrow if we can get a good rain out of the deal.”
It took a unity candle, two prayers, three songs, and the sifting of the sand in addition to exchanging rings and traditional vows where Andy promised his fidelity, love, respect, and protection before the personal vows were said.
Andy had written them the night before when he’d had no idea that his ex-wife would be sitting on the third pew and he sure wasn’t expecting Marty to be standing three feet from him. He took Anna Ruth’s hand in his and could have dropped down on his knees in thanks when several loud claps of thunder kept his vows from echoing off the walls. Marty couldn’t even hear them, much less Trixie.
Anna Ruth had just begun her vows when a clap of thunder sounded like someone had set off a nuclear bomb right outside the church. She dropped Andy’s hands, looked at Darla Jean, and squealed, “Just finish it!”
“I now pronounce you man and wife. Andy, you may kiss the bride,” Darla Jean said just before the next rumble hit.
“The couple has asked that everyone join them across the street at the community room for the reception,” Darla Jean said. “And I believe you’d better rush because it’s going to rain any minute.”
The bride and groom rushed down the aisle without the planned wedding music. She picked up her train and he held her hand as they jogged over to the community room. A whole entourage followed behind them. Some of the folks actually made it inside the room before the clouds opened up and rain fell in waves.
Marty was on her way out of the church when she heard her mother whisper right behind her. Why haven’t you told Trixie? Your friendship is more important than fifty-year-old gossip, and besides, she won’t tell.
Marty looked over her shoulder and felt disappointed when Claudia wasn’t there.
Agnes picked up her umbrella. “Come on, Marty. You can share with me. I brought Bert’s big old umbrella, and it’s big enough for both of us.”
* * *
Jack popped up an umbrella and held it above Trixie’s head. “Hurry up, and we won’t be soaked.”
“But the backseat and trunk of my car is loaded with food,” she said.
“Then I’ll help you get to your car and then go on ahead to get my garage door unlocked. Y’all sure you don’t want to go to the reception?”
“Hell, no! I’ve had all the sticky sweet wedding shit I can stand for a whole year.” Trixie laughed.
Darla Jean locked the church doors and motioned for her family to follow her. They left by a side door with Lindsey and Betty under one umbrella and Misty, Darla Jean, and Layla under another one.
“You all look pretty spiffy today,” Darla Jean said.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Lindsey said.
“I’m so excited to be going to a party,” Misty said.
“Hard rain don’t usually last. It’ll be over by the time the party is done,” Betty said.
“It’s really not a party, girls. It’s just a little get-together at Jack’s new house so we can all see it.”
“I thought we were going to the wedding reception,” Lindsey said.
“Trust me, this will be a lot more fun than that reception,” Darla Jean told her.
* * *
Jack raised a glass of champagne that Cathy had poured and said, “Welcome to my new home, where the door is always open to my old friends and my new ones. Before we get busy eating all this wonderful food my dearest old friends have fixed, I have a toast. To old friends and to new beginnings and new friends.”
“That is enough of that old shit.” Marty laughed.
“You are as old as we are,” Cathy told him.
“Then to new beginnings for us all.” Jack grinned.
“Yes, sir!” John said.
Glasses clinked and everyone took a drink.
Agnes raised a glass of sweet tea. “To the end of the best year of my life. And you are all welcome!”
“For what?” Trixie asked.
“I protected your sorry ass, and that shotgun blast changed your life. Admit it,” Agnes said.
Trixie smiled. “Okay, I’ll admit it, and it changed for the better.”
Agnes looked at Darla Jean.
“What’d I do?”
“I got God to like you, so you owe me big-time. And you, Marty, I’ve got calluses on my knees from praying for your soul. And Cathy, where do I start?”
Cathy raised her glass. “Girls?”
They touched their glasses together and chimed at the same time. “Thank you, Agnes.”
Agnes smiled. “Now ain’t that nice.”
* * *
Later that night, Marty slipped into Trixie’s room. “You asleep?”
“No, I’m wide awake. Who could sleep with all that thunder still going on? Don’t it know it’s supposed to snow in December, not flash lightning and rattle the windows?”
Marty sat down on the edge of the bed.
Trixie sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Did you see someone at the wedding that interested you?”
“Nope, did you?”
Trixie shook her head. “I’m not ready. But I’m glad that Andy is out of my life, Marty. I really am.”
“Me too. I voted for Anna Ruth because I promised Mamma on her deathbed that I would do everything in my power to keep Agnes out of that club.”
“Okay, I understand.” Trixie hugged Marty.
“But you deserve to know it all, and you’ve got to help me keep Agnes out of the club by whatever means it takes.”
“Okay. I will. You are forgiven,” Trixie said.
“Mamma’s mother and Agnes were sisters,” Marty said.
T
rixie laid a hand on Marty’s shoulder. “You don’t have to explain. You’ve got your reasons and it’s all right. I promise. It won’t be there between us anymore.”
“I know, because I’m going to explain. Grandma told Mamma the story before she died, and then Mamma told me. Agnes has no idea, but if she did, she’d kill Violet.”
“What did Violet do that was that bad?”
“Violet was always the queen bee in Cadillac, even as a young girl. When Grandma finally grew the best peppers and won the blue ribbon at the Texas State Fair, it was Violet who came up with the idea for the club so that put her instead of Grandma in the spotlight. Anyway, back when they were young, she got pretty upset when she wanted Bert Flynn and he chose Agnes. She tried to seduce him, but he wasn’t having any part of it.”
Trixie whispered, “But how would she find out? Violet damn sure wouldn’t tell that kind of thing on herself.”
“Mamma said that the war between them got stronger every year and she always feared if Agnes got into the club that Violet would say that Bert really did sleep with her after he and Agnes were engaged just to get even with her. She could just see a night when Agnes was praising her precious Bert for something or another and Violet would tell her that she knew from experience that he hadn’t always been faithful.”
“How in the world did that ever get kept a secret in Cadillac?”
“Other than Bert and Violet, Grandma was the only one who ever knew and she wasn’t about to tell her sister because she didn’t want Agnes to spend the rest of her life in jail.”
“How’d she find out?”
“She overheard Violet begging Bert to break it off with Agnes and come back to her the day before Bert and Agnes got married. She promised him anything he wanted if he would. And that’s the reason I voted for Anna Ruth.”
“Why did your grandmother ever let herself get roped into that club, anyway? The way Agnes and Violet have been at each other’s throat, it’s like she was taking sides against her sister,” Trixie said.
“Agnes told her to join when Violet came around with the idea of starting the club. She said that Grandma could get Agnes in the club and together, they’d take Violet down. It didn’t work. Every time Grandma nominated Agnes, Violet used her clout to make sure Agnes did not get chosen. By the time Mamma got into it, Violet had so much power that Agnes wasn’t about to get into the club. But this last vote could have been disastrous. It was pretty damn close.”
“You really think Agnes would get mad enough to kill Violet after all these years?”
“Bert has been dead more than thirty years. She hasn’t changed a thing in her house and still has all of his clothes. He was a total saint in her eyes. What do you think?”
Trixie giggled.
“It’s not funny. I’ve been worried sick since that stupid vote and you are laughing?” Marty said.
“It is funny! I just realized that Violet Prescott’s wings and halo are as fake as her gold fingernail. Ain’t that the funniest thing ever?”
“What is the funniest thing ever?” Agnes marched through the open door and plopped down on the bed.
“Nothing.” Trixie winked at Marty.
“Well, it’s not the funniest thing ever, whatever the hell it is. Beulah just called me all in a tizzy. Prissy Parnell has done decided that she’s had enough of Buster, and she’s come back to Cadillac. She’s filing for divorce tomorrow morning, and Beulah is terrified that she’s going to go after Jack. Lord, the world would come to a screechin’ halt if Jack married a divorced woman.”
Marty smiled. “Why?”
“Hell if I know. God knows he ain’t goin’ to find a thirty-five-year-old virgin like Beulah wants him to have. And there’s more. Ethan and his teacher friend done got married in Las Vegas. I’m sure that since she’s Violet’s daughter-in-law, she’ll fill the place that Cathy left behind when she was the first ever to quit the club. God, I’m proud of that Cathy. No more blue ribbons for that stupid-ass club. They might have to change their name to the Used-To-Be Club. Guess the Jubilee will always be the Jalapeño Jubilee, though. It’s too late to change it after all these years, and besides, Cathy does grow the best peppers in the whole state. Anyway, Prissy will probably take over your spot.”
“I didn’t quit,” Marty said.
“Hell, yes, you damn sure did. You just didn’t know it. They ain’t keepin’ you without Cathy. Violet can have the club. Hell, she could get down on her knees and beg me, and I wouldn’t be in it. I don’t need that shit in my life. I got my hands full keepin’ all y’all out of mischief.”
Marty gasped. “You wouldn’t join the club if they asked you?”
“Hell no! Never would have. I just wanted to be voted in so I could tear the hell out of her stupid club to pay her back for trying to talk Bert into leaving me high and dry at the altar. Today couldn’t have been any more perfect. Now I’m going home and eatin’ that piece of chocolate cake I talked Jack into letting me bring away from his place,” Agnes said.
“How’d you know about that?” Marty asked.
“Bert told me. We didn’t keep secrets,” Agnes said on her way out.
Marty waited until she heard the back door slam and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Jack. You call Cathy. This is too damn good to wait until morning.”
Trixie giggled as she dialed the phone.
Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society—who gives a shit?
Friendship—always and forever priceless.
The End
Read on for a look at The Shop on Main Street
Chapter 1
Some men are just born stupid. Some don’t get infected until later in life, but they’ll all get a case of it sometime. It’s in their DNA and can’t be helped.
Carlene could testify with her right hand raised to God and the left on the Good Book that her husband, Lenny, had been born with the disease and it had worsened with the years. Proof was held between her thumb and forefinger like a dead rat in the form of a pair of bikini underwear. They damn sure didn’t belong to her. Hell’s bells, she couldn’t get one leg in those tiny little things. And they did not belong to Lenny, either. Even if he had become an overnight cross-dresser, his ass wouldn’t fit into that skimpy pair of under-britches, not even if he greased himself down with bacon drippings.
They were bright red with a sparkling sequin heart sewn on the triangular front. They’d come with a matching corset with garter straps and fishnet hose. Carlene recognized them, because she’d designed the outfit herself at her lingerie shop, Bless My Bloomers. They belonged to a petite, size-four brunette with big brown eyes who had giggled and pranced when she saw herself in the mirror wearing the getup.
Carlene jumped when her cell phone rang. The ring tone said it was Lenny, but she was still speechless, staring at the scrap of satin in her hand.
She dropped to her knees on the carpet and bent forward into a tight ball, her blond hair falling over her face. She felt as if someone had kicked her firmly in the gut and she couldn’t breathe. In a few seconds she managed a sitting position, wrapped her arms around her midsection, and sucked in air, but it burned her lungs. The noise that came forth from her chest sounded like a wounded animal caught in a trap. Tears would have washed some of the pain away but they wouldn’t flow from her burning green eyes. Finally, she got control of the dry heaves and managed to pull herself up out of the heap of despair. Dear God, what was she going to do?
The brunette who’d bought the red-satin outfit had told her that she and her sugar daddy were going to Vegas, and she wanted something that would make him so hot he’d be ready to buy her an engagement ring. What was her name? Bailey? Brenda? No, something French, because Carlene remembered asking her about it. Bridget…that was it! Bridget had been to Vegas with Lenny. On how many other trips had he taken a bimbo with him and how many of them had been ten or fifteen years younger�
�and a size four, for God’s sake?
In seconds, the phone rang again. She picked it up and said, “Hello.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well or, maybe, a sewer pipe.
“Carlene, I left my briefcase in my office. I slept on the sofa to keep from waking you, since I got in so late last night. Bring it to me before you go to work, and hurry. There’s a contract in it that I need and the people will be here to sign in ten minutes. I’ll hold them off with coffee until you get here.”
No good-bye.
No thank you, darlin’.
Not even a please.
Did he talk to Bridget like that?
Anger joined shock and pain as she dropped the panties back in the briefcase and then removed the little card she’d made for him to find that morning. She’d written that she was sorry she had fallen asleep before he got home and that she’d make it up to him that night with champagne and wild sex. She stood up, straightening to her full statuesque height of just a couple of inches under the six-foot mark. Damn that sorry bastard to hell. How could he do this to her?
Ripping the note into confetti-sized pieces and throwing them in the air did nothing to appease her anger. Dozens of questions ran in circles through her mind. Had Lenny brought his twenty-something-year-old bimbo to her house for a romp on her bed while she was at work? Did that sorry sucker have sex with his mistress at noon and then with his wife that same night? Just how long had the affair been going on, anyway?
Among them all came one solid answer. She was not living in the same house with a lying, cheating, two-timing son of a bitch. She was leaving his ass and nothing or no one could convince her to stay another night under the same roof with him.
Five Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off trophies looked down from the mantle at her. She picked them up one by one and hurled them across the room. Not one of the damn plastic things broke, which made her even angrier, but she didn’t go to the garage and get a hammer to work them over. Instead, she turned into a feverish packing fiend. In less than half an hour her van looked like an overflowing Salvation Army donation hut. Clothing and shoes were stuffed into the back like sardines. Plastic grocery bags filled with items from her dresser drawers were stacked in the backseat, and the briefcase sat right beside her on the front seat.
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