Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Recipes from the Kountry Kitchen
Discover More by this Author
About the Author
Copyright
This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Best Served Cold
Copyright © 2007 by Dean James
Ebook ISBN: 9781641970044
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
NYLA Publishing
350 7th Avenue, Suite 2003, NY 10001, New York.
http://www.nyliterary.com
Dedication
For Natalee Rosenstein, this book, our ninth together, with grateful appreciation for many years of patience, encouragement, opportunities, and support.
Thanks for giving Wanda Nell and the gang their chance.
Acknowledgments
Thanks, as always, to my agent Nancy Yost; you can find a picture of her in the dictionary under the word irrepressible. That’s a great quality in an agent, believe me.
Thanks to the team at Berkley, including of course Natalee Rosenstein and her assistant, Michelle Vega, who do their best with each book. I particularly appreciate Michelle’s enthusiasm for these books and what she does to help make them the best they can be.
Thanks also to my cheerleaders who never fail to encourage me; Tejas Englesmith, Julie Wray Herman, and Patricia Orr. Knowing you three are always on my side keeps me going when I need it most, which is just about every day.
Thanks to Barbara Douglas for reading the manuscripts and offering suggestions. Your input is valuable, and I hope you realize that!
Finally, a very special thanks to a good friend and terrific writer, Carolyn Haines, who listened to my plot woes and very quickly helped me find a solution. Carolyn’s generosity, creative and otherwise, is an unfailing inspiration.
Chapter 1
Wanda Nell Culpepper forced herself to stay right by the cash register and not intervene. Gladys Gordon was old enough to look after herself.
Maybe if the woman had even the little-bittiest bit of a sense of humor, Wanda Nell reflected, she wouldn’t find herself in these situations.
Perry Howell, a tall, handsome man in his early thirties, spoke again. “Now, Miss Gladys, surely you know a fellow just can’t help trying to flirt with a fine lady like you.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he stared up into the waitress’s face.
After three months on the evening shift at the Kountry Kitchen, Gladys Gordon still hadn’t figured out how to handle jokers like Perry Howell. Wanda Nell sighed. Gladys was so danged dead serious about everything. Right now she was staring at Perry Howell in horror.
“You’re young enough to be my son,” Gladys said, her voice huffy. “You got no business trying to get smart with me.” Her face bright red, she turned and stalked off. In amusement mixed with irritation, Wanda Nell watched her go. She picked up the tea pitcher from the counter behind her and walked around to Perry Howell’s table.
“You shouldn’t pick on her like that, Perry,” Wanda Nell told him softly as she filled his glass. “It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”
Unrepentant, Howell winked at Wanda Nell. “Now, Miss Wanda Nell, if you was to give me the time of day, I wouldn’t be so desperate trying to make time with Miss Prissy Britches back there.”
“I’m not that desperate either, Perry Howell,” Wanda Nell retorted, smiling, “but when you’re the last man on Earth, I might give you a chance.”
“This joker giving you a hard time?”
Startled, Wanda Nell turned to look up into the glowering face of Melvin Arbuckle, her boss and the owner of the Kountry Kitchen. In the three months since the murder of one of his waitresses, Melvin had been real touchy. He needed to get his own sense of humor back, but Fayetta Sutton’s death had hit him harder than Wanda Nell had reckoned it would.
“Everything’s fine, Melvin,” Wanda Nell said, her voice firm. Perry Howell had bristled slightly at Melvin’s tone, and Wanda Nell didn’t want this silliness to erupt into something else. “Perry was just about to pay his check and get on home.”
She fixed Howell with a stern look, and he wilted, just like one of her children. She was only six or seven years older than he was, but tonight she felt old enough to be his mother.
Howell stood up, pulled a couple of dollars out of his pocket, and dropped them on the table. He followed Wanda Nell to the cash register while Melvin wandered off to chat with another customer.
“Dang, but he’s got a bug up his butt,” Howell muttered as he handed Wanda Nell his money.
Making change, Wanda Nell just shrugged. “He’s been through a lot, Perry. Don’t take it personal. He’ll be okay, just needs a little more time.”
“I guess,” Perry said sourly. “But maybe I’ll start eating out at the Holiday Inn for awhile. I hear they got a real sexy waitress out there.”
“You do that,” Wanda Nell said as he walked away. “Jerk,” she muttered under her breath. She glanced at her watch as the door shut behind Howell. Only eight-thirty. Would this night ever end?
She was feeling dead on her feet. It had been a long, hard week, and she was plumb worn out. Her youngest, Juliet, was back in school, and Miranda, her middle child, had gotten fired two days ago from her job at Budget Mart. Wanda Nell was about ready to wring Miranda’s neck, but she didn’t want her grandson, Lavon, to be an orphan.
Coming out of her reverie for a moment, Wanda Nell noticed one of her customers waving at her. Picking up the tea pitcher again, she went to fill his glass and shoot the breeze a little.
While Wanda Nell was chatting with Junior Farley and his new lady friend, she saw Gladys Gordon clump by on the way to greet a man who had just walked in the front door.
Turning away from the table, Wanda Nell got a good look at the man. Surprised, she almost dropped the tea pitcher on the floor. She stared for a moment, then took a step forward. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Rusty,” she finally said. “What are you doing back in Tullahoma? Why didn’t you call?”
“I wasn’t sure I was gonna see you, Wanda Nell,” her brother answered. He looked away from her. “Last time I was here, you didn’t have much good to say to me.” Wanda Nell’s temper flared just thinking abou
t it. She had last seen her younger brother six years ago when their mother died after a long battle with breast cancer. Furious that her brother had ignored all their mother’s appeals to come home one last time before she died, Wanda Nell lit into him the minute he set foot in the funeral home. She told him at length what she thought about his callous behavior, all her grief and anger at their mother’s death washing over her like a tidal wave.
Immediately after the funeral, Rusty headed back to Nashville, where he had been living for several years, and Wanda Nell hadn’t heard from him since. She tried calling him a few times, to make peace with him, but he rebuffed every effort she made.
Now she was getting angry all over again, just thinking about his neglect of their mother. She forced herself to calm down, though. She didn’t want to make an ugly scene right here in front of everybody.
“You were right, Wanda Nell,” Rusty said softly. “I should’ve come back to see Mama. I didn’t treat her right, and I’ll go to my grave with that.” Finally, he looked back into his sister’s face.
The sharp words Wanda Nell wanted to say died in her throat. The pain and misery she could see in her brother’s face cut right through her. With surprise, she noted how tired and worn he looked. He was a little over two years younger than she was, but right now he could pass for fifty-eight instead of thirty-eight.
“How’d you know where to find me?” She reached over and set the tea pitcher on the counter near the cash register.
“Miranda,” Rusty said. “I went to your trailer first, and she told me where you was working.”
“Have you had anything to eat?”
Rusty shook his head. “I’m about to starve. I ain’t had much since I left Nashville.”
“Then come on back here and sit down,” Wanda Nell said, turning to lead the way into the rear dining room.
She pointed to a table, and Rusty pulled out a chair and sat down. “What would you like to drink? Tea, or maybe some coffee?”
“What I really want is a shot of bourbon,” Rusty said, almost smiling, “but I reckon I’ll settle for a glass of milk.”
“Okay,” Wanda Nell said. “Anything special you’d like to eat?”
Rusty shrugged. “Whatever you got, it don’t matter much.”
“You just sit there and relax, and I’ll get you fixed up,” Wanda Nell said. “I’ll be right back with you some milk.”
Rusty rubbed his face tiredly. “Where’s the restroom?”
Wanda Nell pointed. “To the left there, just around that wall.”
In the kitchen, she ordered a chicken-fried steak dinner with mashed potatoes and green beans. As a kid, Rusty had always been partial to country-fried steak, and Wanda Nell hoped he still was. She poured a large glass of milk and took it back to his table. She waited for him a moment, but he was still in the restroom.
Wanda Nell walked back to the front dining room to check on her remaining two tables there. Business was fairly slow tonight, and it didn’t look like they’d get many more people in before closing time at ten.
Just as well, she thought. Maybe Melvin would let her off early, so she and Rusty could talk a little before she headed to Budget Mart for her overnight shift.
Rusty was sitting in his chair, sipping at his milk, when she walked into the back dining room again. “Food’ll be out in a few minutes,” she told him. “Chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Sound okay?”
He smiled. ‘Thanks. That sounds real good right about now.”
Wanda Nell took a moment to examine him more closely. His reddish-blond hair had faded almost to white except for a few spots, and his dusting of freckles stood out against the paleness of his thin face. For a moment, he was someone she didn’t know, a complete stranger. Where was her brother? This man just didn’t look like the brother she remembered.
She didn’t know what to say to him, feeling suddenly awkward. He didn’t say anything either, and the silence between them grew longer and more strained.
“Ain’t you gonna introduce me?”
Melvin Arbuckle’s voice was a welcome intrusion. Wanda Nell turned to him in relief.
“Melvin, this is my brother Rusty. Rusty Rosamond. He’s really Raymond, but we always called him Rusty. And this here’s my boss, Melvin Arbuckle, Rusty. He owns the Kountry Kitchen.”
Standing, Rusty offered his hand, and Melvin shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Rusty,” Melvin said. He motioned for Rusty to take his seat.
“Likewise,” Rusty answered, sitting down.
“I didn’t realize Wanda Nell had a brother,” Melvin said, cutting his eyes sideways at Wanda Nell. “I don’t think I ever heard tell of you.”
Rusty shrugged. “I been living in Nashville for about ten years now, and I don’t make it back to Tullahoma much.”
“Nashville,” Melvin said. “That’s a real nice town. I been up there a couple of times. What do you do up there?”
“I write songs,” Rusty said. “I write ’em, but I don’t sell too many of ’em.” He laughed bitterly. “Mostly I work whatever job I can get.”
Wanda Nell stared at her brother in surprise. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a songwriter.”
Rusty shrugged again. “I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, Wanda Nell.” He had an odd glint in his eyes. “Like you being a grandma, and Miranda having a baby. That sure was a surprise.”
“You mean because his daddy’s black,” Wanda Nell said evenly. “Well, it don’t matter who his daddy is, Lavon is my grandson, and I love him. I don’t want to hear anything from you about it. You got that?”
Rusty’s mouth had set in a firm line while Wanda Nell was speaking. “Whatever you say, Wanda Nell.” He looked to Melvin. “That’s my big sister for you, always telling me what to do and how to think, without even asking me what I really think.”
“Big sister?” Melvin asked in surprise.
“Rusty’s two years younger than me,” Wanda Nell said.
“Yeah, I just got more miles on me than she does,” Rusty said. “Big Sis was always the lucky one in the family, not me.”
Turning away, Wanda Nell just rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t do a bit of good to say anything. Rusty was always feeling sorry for himself. Didn’t matter what happened to anybody else, something worse was always happening to Rusty. She headed to the kitchen to get his food.
Why had he suddenly turned up in Tullahoma? Wanda Nell wondered about that as she picked up his steaming plate. Was he in some kind of trouble? He didn’t look too good. Maybe he was ill. She sure didn’t think he’d come home just because he’d been missing her.
Back at the table, she set the plate down in -front of Rusty. “Dig in,” she said. “And it’s on me, so if you want anything else, order it.” He didn’t look any too prosperous, either, and maybe he could use a free meal or two. It was the least she could do.
“Thanks,” Rusty said, his voice husky. His eyes avoiding hers, he picked up his knife and fork and started cutting into the chicken-fried steak.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Wanda Nell said. “I’m just going to check on my tables, and then maybe we can talk a little while you eat.”
Not waiting for a response, she walked into the front dining room. Junior Farley and his girlfriend had left and Wanda Nell started clearing the table, pocketing the generous tip. The two men at her other table left, and by the time she finished clearing that table and got back to Rusty, he had wolfed down almost the entire plateful of food.
“You were hungry,” Wanda Nell commented. “How about seconds? Or maybe some dessert? I think we still got some apple pie left.”
“Apple pie sounds good,” Rusty answered, “and some more milk.”
Wanda Nell nodded, picking up his glass.
A couple minutes later she was back with a piece of apple pie, a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the top, and a full glass of milk. She set them in front of her brother, then sat down across from him at the table.
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p; Rusty stuck a forkful of the pie into his mouth and smiled around it. “Delicious,” he said as he chewed.
Wanda Nell waited a moment while he had several more bites of pie and ice cream. “I’m glad to see you, Rusty. And you know you’re welcome to stay with me and the girls. Juliet can move in with me, and you can have her room.”
Rusty shook his head. “Thanks, Wanda Nell, I appreciate that. But I don’t want to put y’all out none. Besides, I already got me a place to stay.”
“Where?” Wanda Nell asked in surprise.
“Right next door.” He grinned. “That neighbor lady of yours is something else.”
Wanda Nell relaxed. Her best friend and next-door neighbor at the trailer park, Mayrene Lancaster, was something else. Generous to a fault, for one thing, especially if she’d offered Rusty the use of her guest room.
“Mayrene’s a good friend,” Wanda Nell said. “I guess she must have been there when you stopped by my trailer.”
Rusty nodded. “She came over right after I got there. Guess she was checking up on the girls.” He had another bite of pie. “When she found out who I was and that I was aiming to visit for a few days, she said I should stay with her. Even gave me a key to her trailer.” He stuck the last bit of pie and ice cream into his mouth, then washed it down with milk.
“That’s real sweet of her,” Wanda Nell said. “Mayrene’s real generous, so you be nice to her, you hear?”
Rusty rolled his eyes at her. “I ain’t five years old no more, Wanda Nell. I know how to behave nice for somebody like your friend. I ain’t gonna embarrass you.”
“I know,” Wanda Nell said, feeling guilty. “Sorry.” It sure was easy, dropping back into old habits. She’d always been bossy with Rusty.
Rusty fiddled with his fork, tracing patterns in the melted ice cream on his plate. Wanda Nell watched him for a moment, then drew a deep breath. Might as well get on with it, she thought.
“So what brings you back to Tullahoma?”
Rusty didn’t say anything.
“I’m glad to see you, Rusty, I really am,” Wanda Nell said softly. “With Mama and Daddy gone, there’s just you and me and my kids, after all.” She paused, struck by a sudden thought. “You got anybody up there in Nashville? A wife, or kids, or somebody else?” She was appalled to realize that she had no idea how he’d answer.
Best Served Cold (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 3) Page 1
