“There is no coffee because Carlene is the only one who knows how to make it, and if I was her, I’d poison yours,” Patrice said.
Carlene was still amazed that Alma Grace hadn’t supported her. Tears stung her eyes and her heart felt heavier than it had all morning. “Coffee might clear our heads,” Carlene said as she started down the stairs.
They trooped into the big old kitchen: Carlene with curves that stretched a size sixteen; Alma Grace, the petite cousin; Patrice, the tallest one of the three at five feet eleven inches and slim as a runway model. Carlene put on a pot of coffee and then slumped in a chair. She started at the beginning. Surely when Alma Grace heard the whole story, she’d be more sympathetic.
“The sorry bastard. Let’s poison him,” Patrice said when she finished.
“You promised to love him through good times and bad. You need to give him a chance to make this all right,” Alma Grace said.
Josie stood up from her chair, rounded the table, and hugged Carlene. “Honey, I’m not much younger than your Grandma Fannin would be and I got a feeling that she would tell you the same thing I’m about to tell you. Cut your losses right now and move on with your life. He’s not worth it. Life’s too short and hell ain’t half full for you to put up with that kind of shit.”
Alma Grace threw a hand over her eyes. “Dear God.”
“You pray for me and I’ll hurt you, girl. I swear I will,” Carlene said.
“I wasn’t praying. I promise that I wasn’t. I just remembered that our mothers are going to Lenny’s this morning to buy a new car,” she said.
The sound that came out of Carlene’s throat was somewhere between a giggle and a sob. It quickly turned into nervous laughter, followed by a guffaw that echoed off the kitchen walls, and then tears flooded her cheeks again.
She could tell by the looks on her cousins’ faces that they thought she was laughing until she cried.
Patrice threw a kitchen towel across the table toward Carlene. “Dab, don’t wipe or you’ll ruin your mascara. What do you bet that he runs the other way when the Fannin sisters come through the door? He won’t remember that Aunt Gigi has been talking about a new car for weeks. Enough of this shit. We’ve got a business to run.”
Carlene pushed the end of the towel up under her eye. “And I’ve got to call the furniture store and tell them to deliver a bedroom suite before dark or I’ll be sleeping on the floor.”
“You can stay with me,” Alma Grace offered.
“Hell, no! I’m staying right here. All I have to do is walk down the stairs into the store every morning. It’s a perfect setup until the divorce is settled. I hope he loses that damn chili cook-off trophy this year. It would serve him right after promising that bimbo that he would hang her picture above the trophies. I threw them across the room but they didn’t break.”
“You will make the coffee every morning, right?” Patrice asked.
Carlene shot a look across the table.
Patrice fended it off by putting both her palms up. “Don’t be killin’ me with your mean looks, woman. I didn’t cheat on you and I’m supporting your decision to leave that scumbag. I can’t believe he’s so stupid he didn’t even check his briefcase.”
“I can’t believe you are so stupid that you married him. Everyone knew he was a skirt chaser,” Josie fussed.
“Well, I can’t believe you aren’t going to live up to the vows you said before all three of our mamas and God. And the fact that the trophies didn’t break is a sign that your marriage isn’t broken, just cracked, and that it can be mended,” Alma Grace sniffed.
“I thought he meant it when he said his womanizing days were over, Josie. I hear the front door. Let’s go to work,” Carlene said, walking out of the kitchen.
“And he broke more vows than Carlene did, Alma Grace, so stop your sanctimonious shit,” Patrice said.
“It’s going to be the ruin of us. The church didn’t like it when I threw in with y’all to put in a lingerie shop but a divorced woman in the mix? I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” Alma Grace whispered.
“We’ve done got past the fifties, cousin. Divorce happens. Get over it and you better not ever let me hear you praying for that bastard again or I’ll snatch you baldheaded,” Patrice said.
Carlene returned with a white carryout box and opened it before she set it in the middle of the table. “That was Beulah from across the street. She ran over to Miss Clawdy’s and brought us a dozen pecan tarts. Said that she’d heard the bad news and would be praying that me and Lenny could work things out. Don’t you even roll your eyes at the ceiling Alma Grace! She said that she hoped that the tarts would help us get through the morning.”
“Bad news travels fast,” Josie said.
“Fat chance of working it out,” Patrice said. “Lenny Joe has treated you horrible, Carlene. It’s over.”
Alma Grace reached for a tart. “You had these at your wedding. All arranged on a silver platter on the groom’s table. You want one? Remember all the good times, Carlene. God wants you to forgive Lenny.”
“I’d rather lick the white tops off of chicken shit.” Carlene marched out of the room before she had another emotional outbreak just thinking about her wedding day.
Chapter 2
The Fannin sisters, Gigi, Tansy, and Sugar, arrived in force at Bless My Bloomers at ten minutes until twelve. Gigi was the oldest at fifty-eight and she didn’t mind carrying the responsibility of being the firstborn. But her exact year of birth was only known to a choice few and she’d promised to cut their tongues out if they ever told a soul, living or dead. Her champagne-blond hair was swept up into a high Texas style twist, and her pecan-colored eyes were not glittering with happiness that morning.
Taking the trash out without her high heels was right up there next to coveting her neighbor’s ass in the list of sinful abominations and that day she wore black three-inch spikes with gold touches on the toes. They looked good with her skinny jeans, a western-cut shirt with pearl snaps, loop earrings with diamond Texas Longhorns dangling from the ends, a gold wide-cuff bracelet with a big Longhorn in diamonds on her right arm, and a watch that matched it on the other wrist.
Tansy was the middle sister and the shortest of the three. Her thick medium-beige hair, according to the box that Stella used down at the Yellow Rose, rested in bouncy natural curls on her shoulders. She fancied herself a bit of a psychic and said that God had given her brown eyes so she could see into the future. She looked like she could pull a crystal ball from her oversized purse or maybe a deck of tarot cards from her flowing tiered skirt with bright blue peacocks scattered over an orange background. The matching orange T-shirt, a lime green stretchy belt with a multicolored stone buckle, and hot-pink high heels did not tone down her outfit one bit.
Sugar had pulled her hair back with a bright red scarf and let the ends hang over her shoulder. Her slim skirt was red, her button-up blouse pure white with red buttons, and her high heels were black. She wore a quadruple strand of pearls that had belonged to her mother and a pearl and diamond tennis bracelet.
“Dear Lord,” Patrice muttered when they paraded into the store.
“You can’t pray either, especially after coming here with a hangover this morning,” Carlene hissed.
“Mary Carlene Carmichael Lovelle, why didn’t you call me first thing when you found out?” Gigi did not beat around the bush.
Carlene had never even heard all four of her names strung together.
“Have you talked to Lenny?” she asked.
Alma Grace poked her head out into the foyer where the women had stopped. “Did you go buy a car this morning?”
Tansy poked a finger toward Carlene. “Hell, no, we didn’t talk to Lenny or buy a car from that bastard. If you will remember, young lady, I told you I had a premonition about that boy before you married him. Everyone in Grayson County knew that he was a womanizer just like his daddy. So you can’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Yes, ma’am
, you did.” Carlene nodded. “I should have listened.”
“None of this is her fault.” Patrice joined the ladies.
Sugar frowned at Patrice. “We ought to have a time of prayer before we even hear Carlene’s side of the story. Why did you create such a public scene? I heard you ruined a perfectly good Corvette by dancin’ on it like a low-class heathen and you screamed at him and that horrible woman in public. I know you were angry but Lenny might be sorry and straighten up. You need to pray to God for guidance in how to save your marriage.”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely did create a scene and even God can’t save this marriage,” Carlene said.
Tansy popped her hands on her hips. “Sugar, we are not going to pray so get that out of your head. Prayer is not penicillin and it won’t cure everything from philanderin’ husbands to ingrown toenails. And who gives a rat’s ass if the town is talkin’. I’m proud of you, Carlene. Lenny had it comin’ if he’s been cheatin’. I wouldn’t put up with it and neither would you, Sugar, so don’t go all holier than thou on us.”
The bell above the entrance door rang and more than a dozen women pushed their way into the store. Church ladies, gossip, and her mother all in five minutes! Carlene hadn’t even had time to process everything that had happened that morning and hell had just arrived in the form of a dozen church women.
The first one through the doors said, “We’re here for our fittings. We brought our brown-bag special lunches with us because we only have an hour before we have to be at the church to practice for the Easter program. You know it’s less than three weeks and we have to be strapped down securely during the part when we all jump for joy. Last year I was wearin’ a button-up shirt and two buttons popped off and darlin’, the bra I was wearing did not do its job. Had to turn my back and work fast, I tell you. It was downright embarrassing. Alma Grace, I’ll go first.”
“Y’all can wait in the kitchen,” Carlene whispered to her mother and aunts. She’d managed to hold it together and not cry like a baby on her mother’s shoulder but it had taken a lot out of her.
“Hell, no! We ain’t waitin’ in no kitchen,” Tansy said. “We’ll go over to Clawdy’s and have some lunch. But we will be back and you hold your head up, girl. I mean it. Don’t you let those women talk you into changin’ your mind. I swear, I’ll kick your ass myself if you forgive that sumbitch. I knew something like this would happen. My poor bird, Dakshani, wouldn’t even eat his special treat this morning so I knew trouble was on the way.”
“Jesus couldn’t change my mind,” Carlene said.
Sugar shook her finger at Carlene. “Don’t you be using the savior’s name like that.”
“It’s the truth, Aunt Sugar.”
Her mother, Gigi, hugged her tightly and whispered, “I’ll gladly put out a contract on his sorry ass. You be thinkin’ about it.”
Sugar kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “I’ll lift you up to Jesus in my prayers and he will help you to forgive Lenny.”
Forgive Lenny? No way in hell. It was a black-and-white issue with no fuzzy gray edges. He cheated. No trust, no marriage.
***
Tansy, Gigi, and Sugar lined up in order of birth and paraded across the street and down to the next corner. The Fannin girls had come to Cadillac and whether they thought Carlene was right or not, they’d stand by her. But of all three, Gigi was the one with smoke coming out of her ears. Her jaws ached from clamping them shut and she wanted to strangle someone just to get a little practice in for when she faced off with Lenny. If he’d abused her baby girl in addition to cheating on her, there would be more than a Corvette at the dealership with holes in it.
Trixie was working the register at Clawdy’s that day. She and her best friends, Marty and Cathy Andrews, owned and operated Miss Clawdy’s Café, which was located across the street and down the block from Bless My Bloomers.
“Afternoon, ladies. Is it Sugar’s time to treat y’all?” Trixie asked.
“Hell, no!” Tansy said. “It’s my turn. That’s why I brought them to a buffet. Gigi has a mad spell on and when she’s mad she eats a lot.”
“I heard there was trouble in the Lovelle paradise,” Trixie said softly.
“You’d sure understand how my Carlene feels today since you’ve been through the same thing. You had a lyin’ sack of shit for a husband, too,” Gigi said.
Trixie circled around the counter and hugged Gigi. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do know how she feels. It’ll take a while but she’ll move on and he’ll be sorry that he lost a good woman like Carlene.”
“You ever think about working it out with Andy back before he remarried?” Gigi asked.
“Hell, no! Trust is the foundation for a marriage. Once that’s gone, the marriage is gone. It’ll take y’all a while to adjust but time helps.” Trixie went back to the cash register, ran Tansy’s credit card through the machine, and laid the receipt on the counter for her to sign.
Tansy picked up the pen and hurriedly put her name on the paper. “Carlene is pretty mad. I can see it in her eyes. I don’t think even Sugar and all her prayers could talk her into giving him another chance.”
“I’m not going to talk her out of anything. She’s twenty-seven years old and I’ll support her decision even if it means giving her an alibi after she’s killed him,” Gigi declared.
“There has never been a divorce in the Fannin family.” Sugar sighed.
“Miz Sugar, some things even God don’t forgive,” Trixie smiled. “Y’all enjoy the buffet. Cathy made blackberry cobbler today so leave room for dessert. Got to get back to work.”
Gigi picked up a tray at the end of the buffet and set a plate, two bowls, silver wrapped in a napkin, and a sweet tea glass on it. She loaded the plate with sweet potato casserole, jalapeño cornbread, fried potatoes, and fried okra, and then filled one bowl with beans and the other with greens.
“I knew you’d go for food therapy,” Tansy said.
“Always.” Gigi found a table for four, arranged her food, and set the tray on a nearby table. “Food always helps me see things clearly. It’s the same as reading palms or cards is for you and praying is for Sugar.”
“Speakin’ of which.” Sugar bowed her head and whispered, “Dear Lord, thank you for this food and help us get through this catastrophe that has befallen our family. We lift it all up to you and leave it in your hands. Amen.”
“A-damn-men,” Tansy said. “Now do just that.”
“What?” Sugar asked.
“Leave it in your sweet Jesus’ hands and don’t bitch at him when he strikes that damn Lenny Joe Lovelle with boils and pestilence. Screwin’ around with another woman…why, it’s a damn disgrace, that’s what it is. He’s the one who’s brought all this catastrophe shit upon our family so ask God to give him a case of impotence that even Viagra can’t fix.” Tansy picked up a piece of cornbread and crumbled it into her bowl of beans.
“I wonder how Carlene found out, anyway,” Gigi mumbled.
Trixie brought a pitcher of sweet tea and filled each of their glasses. “You didn’t get the whole story? Well, I heard that she found a pair of red bikini underwear in his sock drawer and since she’d made them over at Bless My Bloomers, she even knew who they belonged to and”—she lowered her voice—“they were a size four. But I also heard that she didn’t know the woman worked with Lenny until she got there this morning and the woman didn’t know that Carlene was Lenny’s wife. And they had a face-off right there in the showroom. Gossip says that Bridget, that’s the other woman’s name, tried to eat the red thongs.”
“Holy shit!” Tansy said.
Gigi frowned and her eyebrows shot up a notch. “I’d have shot both of them on the spot. Carlene could do it, too. She’s a fine shot. I taught her myself. I would never put up with philanderin’ and Hank Carmichael knows it.”
Tansy jabbed a fork into a chicken-fried steak. “I’ll call both of you so you can get your black suits out of the cleaners if Alex Cordell pulls a damn stunt like that. O
ur poor Carlene.”
“Nothing is an unforgivable sin except blaspheming the Lord’s name,” Sugar said.
Gigi went back to the buffet for a second bowl of beans.
***
Carlene could determine a woman’s bra size just by looking at her, but she brought out three tape measures, strung one around her neck and tossed one to each of her cousins. It made the customers feel like they were getting their money’s worth if they got the full treatment with measurements and lots of choices.
She’d come up with the idea of Bless My Bloomers when she couldn’t find fancy lingerie to fit her size-sixteen figure and had started making it herself. The original plan was that it would cater to plus-size women, that it would be sexy, stylish, and affordable. But it had quickly become a store for all sizes and it was sexy, sometimes downright slutty, and they took credit cards, cash, and checks to make it affordable.
She wrapped the tape around her customer’s breasts and wrote the number down on a sticky note. “You need a 38D.”
“Is that the size the woman had on that you slapped the devil out of this mornin’?” The woman’s eyes bored into Carlene’s. “I heard that you flat out put her on the ground and Lenny had to break up the fight. And then you jumped up on a Corvette and stomped holes in it and that you pulled a pistol out of your bra and waved it around. Also that Sam is so mad at Lenny that he’s making him pay for the Corvette. Is that hussy really pregnant with Lenny’s baby?”
“Didn’t lay a hand on her. She did the talkin’ mostly and I just listened and I don’t own a pistol. I do have a rifle but Daddy keeps it at his house,” Carlene said. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll bring four different styles in for you to try on.”
The lady snorted. “I’d have liked to have been there to see whatever went on even more than having a good fittin’ brassiere. But you know you vowed to love him for better or worse. It don’t say that you can’t make him miserable when you take him back. Lord knows, I’d get a new car out of the deal and maybe a new diamond ring, too. Sam might even give you a new car if you’d go back to Lenny. And once you settle your differences with him, we’ll all have a night of prayer for that young lady to see the error of her ways. There’s lots of good homes she can put that baby into for adoption. Did she know he was married?”
The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off Page 3
