by Ann DeFee
By the time Liza arrived Maizie was covered in flour and had a smudge of blueberry pie filling on her face.
“You can’t stay clean when you’re cooking, can you?” Liza asked, wiping blue goo off her sister’s cheek. “What’s the big emergency? I was in the middle of something.”
“Something wicked, I hope.” Lately Maizie had a one-track mind. Just because she wasn’t getting any didn’t mean she couldn’t live vicariously.
And Liza was a mind reader. “Nope, afraid not. We were raking leaves.”
“Oh. You want a little of this.” Maizie held up a spatula with the remnants of the chocolate pie filling.
“You go ahead. You probably need it more than I do.”
Maizie saluted as she licked the plastic utensil. Liza was right. If she couldn’t have love, by God she’d have chocolate.
Chapter Fifteen
As usual, Liza didn’t mince words. “So why are we here?”
“I started my courting campaign and I’m afraid I’ve already hit a snag.” Maizie joined her sister at the table.
“What’s the problem?” Liza pulled the plate of chocolate-chip cookies closer and helped herself.
“I bought him a gift basket and left it on the porch.”
“So?”
“Go take a gander,” Mama chimed in. “It’s the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You bought him something tacky?” Liza shot Maizie a “what’s up” look. “I thought you were trying to get back in his good graces.”
“I am.” Maizie popped her with a dish towel. “Trina Carruthers had other ideas.”
Liza hooted. “Don’t tell me you bought something from Trina! You know better than that. She can’t stand you. This I’ve got to see.” Liza strolled over to peer out the window.
“You mean that red-and-black eyesore is supposed to be a present?” Her cackle was distinctly unlady-like.
“Stuff a sock in it.” Maizie’s demand resulted in another bout of laughter.
Liza finally managed to get herself under control—sort of. “Girl, we need to talk,” she said, still shaking.
“That’s why we called you, sister dearest,” Maizie tried for sarcasm but failed miserably. “I need some help. I haven’t dated anyone but Clay since the eighth grade. And yes, I know the whole jealousy thing was really, really stupid.”
Liza didn’t say a word. Her hug said it all. “We’ll fix it. When we put our heads together we’re damned formidable, aren’t we Mama?”
Eleanor Westerfield gave her youngest daughter a high five. “We certainly are. We’re Iron Magnolias.”
“That’s steel.” Maizie winked at her twin.
“What?”
“Steel, we’re Steel Magnolias.
“Whatever.” Mama shrugged. “Steel, iron, it’s all metal. The only thing that matters is that Maizie has stumbled onto something. Their marriage is based on humor.” She looked from one daughter to the other. “Am I right?”
Maizie nodded. “You are.”
“So, let’s take advantage of that. If Clay doesn’t find that beer basket funny, I’ll be very surprised. So, in a couple of days I think you should send him something even more over the top.”
“Hmm.” Liza rested her head on her fists. “That could work. What do you think, Maze?”
Maizie thought she should step in front of a bus and put herself out of her misery.
“I’ve got it!” Liza exclaimed. Her legal profession fooled a lot of people, but Maizie knew better. Liza was the ultimate instigator.
“What?” Eleanor seemed as eager as her lawyer daughter.
Liza snapped her finger. “Brenda Lee. What do you think?” Her grin couldn’t possibly bode well.
“What about Brenda Lee?” Maizie couldn’t help being suspicious.
“We’ll hire someone to serenade him with Brenda’s ‘I’m Sorry’ song. Every good country boy knows that tune. He won’t be able to resist.”
Swell. “This making-up thing is getting expensive.”
“We’ll all chip in, won’t we, Mama?”
“Are you kidding? I want my garage apartment back,” Eleanor agreed. “I’m on board.”
“I’ll take care of all the details,” Liza said. “We’ll do something every day until he gives in.” She was getting way too enthusiastic. “Tonight we’ll let him enjoy the basket. Tomorrow we’ll see if we can round up an ersatz Brenda Lee. How does that sound?”
It sounded insane, but what did Maizie have to lose? “Okay, let’s go for it.” She wasn’t convinced it would work, but things were so mucked up she’d take help from any source, even her crazy mother and her equally nutty sister.
CHAOTIC WAS ABOUT THE only way Clay could describe his life. There wasn’t much he could do about the disaster at the office, but he could work on his marriage. And since talking to Kenni and Liza hadn’t got him anywhere, he decided to get a male perspective from Zack and Win. When Clay sent out an SOS they’d agreed to meet him at the Dixie Draught.
Zack shot him a look of sympathy once they were all seated and had beers in hand. “I hear you’re living in Eleanor’s garage apartment. That’s too bad.”
“I’d heard the rumors but I wasn’t sure they were true.” Win smiled broadly. “Why don’t you fill us in?”
“It all started when the tennis pro started touching Maizie in front of me and I got all pissed off. It went downhill from there. I said things I shouldn’t have said, and Maizie got even. She told me she didn’t want to live with me anymore.”
“That’s cold.” Win gave a mock shiver. “Do you really think there’s something going on between Maizie and the tennis dude?”
“No. I overreacted.”
“The shouting match at the country club has hit the rumor mill.” Zack tossed in that bit of info.
“I was afraid of that.” Clay glanced at Win. “But you’re not in the loop, huh? Kenni hasn’t said anything?”
“Nope, afraid not.” Win called a waitress over. “Before we get too deep into this conversation I think I need some sustenance. How about you guys? You want some wings, or nachos or something?”
“Why don’t you order up a couple of each? I’m sure we’ll be here long enough to polish ’em off.” Zack leaned back and crossed one booted foot on his knee. “So what are we missing?”
Leave it to a cop to get right to it.
“I messed up. I hadn’t told Maizie that my company’s in serious financial trouble and when she started ragging on me about not paying enough attention to her, I blurted it out.”
“Bad move.” Win grimaced in commiseration.
“Yeah, I know. So what do I do now?” Clay asked. “And even more important, is there something going on with the girls that I need to know about?”
Zack shook his head. “I have a feeling they’re cooking up some kind of scheme, but honestly, I don’t have any particulars.”
“Can you get anything out of Liza?” Clay asked, even knowing Zack wouldn’t betray his wife’s trust. “Forget that. But I would appreciate any help you can give me. I’m sure you’ve heard about Maizie tossing everything I own out on the lawn.” Clay frowned. “My national championship Little League trophy got broken. I worked my ten-year-old butt off to win that thing.”
“Hey, man, that’s too bad,” Win sympathized. His compassion, however, didn’t deter him from digging into the nachos.
“It’s not right when a man’s trophy gets busted,” Zack agreed.
“So, back to what I can do.”
“Do you love her?” Win asked, using his best courtroom interrogation skills.
“Absolutely.”
“Are you miserable?” Zack asked.
“Yep, afraid so.”
“Do you want to move out of Eleanor’s garage?” Zack tried to make it a serious question, but spoiled it by chuckling.
“Are you kidding?”
Zack and Win shared a glance before Zack took charge of the conversation. “Considering we’re worki
ng blind, I think your best bet is to hang tight and see what she does next. Then we can plan accordingly.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long, though,” Win added. “That’s a sure way to mess things up.” He spoke from the experience of a trial lawyer.
“Wait, but not too long. How do I know what’s too long?” Clay asked. “Do I wait a week? Longer?”
“Why don’t you try for a week, and then if nothing has happened we can reconvene and discuss the next step,” Zack suggested. Win nodded his agreement.
“I’m game. So you really think she’ll try something soon?”
“I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Zack said. “The Westerfield twins aren’t known for their patience.”
AN HOUR AND A HALF later Clay parked his Dodge king cab beside his in-laws’ garage apartment. What was that on the porch?
Clay cut the engine and carefully mounted the stairs. What was that thing? Pom-poms? Beer cans? He started laughing and couldn’t stop. Until the stink bomb went off.
That stench was unmistakable. Back in junior high Clay and a buddy set off a couple of those in the boys’ restroom. Now, he kicked the basket off the porch in frustration. It was the best he could do until the smell dissipated.
So that’s what she thought of him. Clay scrubbed his hand over his face. Damn! Instead of offering an apology, Maizie had launched a particularly odious volley.
This was war.
Chapter Sixteen
The Westerfield ladies had their noses pressed against the kitchen window eagerly awaiting Clay’s reaction. There was a collective gasp when he deep-sixed the basket and stomped into the apartment.
“Why did he do that?” Liza was the first to speak.
Yeah, why had he done that? Maizie wondered. Sure it was ugly, but it was the thought that counted, right? Besides, it had cost her fifty bucks.
“I think I’ll ask him exactly that.” Eleanor jerked open the back door, allowing noxious fumes to waft in. “Good Lord, what is that smell?” She waved her hands in an attempt to ward off the smell that was vaguely reminiscent of a sewer treatment plant.
In unison Maizie and Liza exclaimed, “Trina Carruthers!”
Oh, man, this had turned into a debacle.
Mama slammed the door shut. “You two make yourselves scarce. I’m going to take care of this.”
That scared Maizie spitless, but what other option did she have?
ELEANOR HELD HER NOSE as she tossed the basket into the side yard.
“Clayton dear, it’s Eleanor,” she yelled.
Clay had finally managed to calm down with the help of a cold beer and an inane television program. Right now the only thing he wanted to hear from his mother-in-law was an acknowledgment that her daughter was a certifiable lunatic.
He leaned over the railing and noticed she’d removed the evidence. “Hi, Eleanor, what can I do for you?”
“Have you had supper?” He didn’t see that one coming.
“I had nachos at the Dixie Draught.”
“Oh dear, that’s not enough. Give me an hour and then get yourself on down here. I’m going to fry up a chicken.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It was a good thing he’d only had the one beer. He’d need to be stone sober to handle Eleanor.
Bennett Westerfield was at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee when Clay joined them. At best, he looked embarrassed. At worst, it appeared he was about to jump and run. Clay could relate.
“Hey, Bennett. What’s up?”
Maizie’s dad studied the contents of his cup. “Not much. How about you?”
“Life’s kind of stinky.” Clay was proud that he could say that with a straight face.
Bennett smiled. “That’s what I hear.”
Eleanor gave Clay a swat. “Sit down. I’m whipping up some potatoes.”
Clay grabbed a drumstick from the platter Eleanor took from the warming oven, earning another smack in the process. Even under these circumstances, he was as comfortable in the Westerfields’ kitchen as he was in his own.
“Here you go.” Eleanor put a steaming plate of food in front of him and then sat down. “Bennett has something to tell you about Maizie’s gift.”
Clay’s appetite disappeared. “She made it perfectly clear what she thinks of me.”
“This whole thing is a disaster. Not that it hasn’t had help from some folks who should know better.” Bennett shot his wife a telling look. “Maizie’s trying to make up with you. That’s was what the basket was all about. Unfortunately things got a little messed up.”
“Messed up?” That was a bit of an understatement.
“My baby girl bought that basket from Trina Carruthers and Trina’s not exactly fond of our daughter. I called her to see what she had to say.”
It was hard for Clay to think of his voluptuous Maizie as anyone’s baby girl, but he decided he’d better skip over that one.
“What did she say?” Clay had never known Trina well, but he was aware of the tension between her and Maizie, and it all went back to the prom.
“At first she didn’t want to talk to me, but I convinced her otherwise.” Bennett chuckled. “I can be persuasive, even if I do say so myself. Trina finally confessed that she was responsible for the stink bomb. It was designed to break open when it got jostled.” He threw up his hands. “You know the rest of the story.”
Clay waited to see how far Maizie’s parents would take this tell-all session. Even though he was relieved that the stink bomb wasn’t Maizie’s handiwork, the fact of the matter was that Maizie didn’t trust him. And reconciliation without faith wasn’t possible.
Chapter Seventeen
The day after the beer basket fiasco, Maizie managed to stay busy at the Boudoir so the time passed quickly. Which was fortunate since she hadn’t heard anything from Clay, not a single, solitary word.
Last night she’d been tempted to do bodily harm to Trina Carruthers. Damn that woman’s hide! Thanks to Liza’s clear head—and her assurance that they’d eventually get even—Maizie was able to set aside her thirst for revenge, at least for the moment.
The overriding issue now was how to make amends for the latest calamity. Clay had every right to be even angrier than he was before.
Later that afternoon, Maizie was unpacking a box of new inventory when Kenni strolled into the storeroom.
“I heard what happened last night. Bummer. Trina Carruthers is a piece of work.”
Maizie continued to steam the wrinkles out of a skirt. “I think we should curse her with the fleas of a thousand camels. What do you think?”
“I say amen,” Kenni agreed. “By the way, I talked to Aunt Eleanor today.”
“What did she say?” Maizie couldn’t hide her curiosity.
“Did you know your dad had a man-to-man talk with Clay last night? He told him it was all Trina’s doing.”
“What was Clay’s reaction?” Maizie couldn’t wait to hear what he’d had to say.
“Not much. Eleanor said he just kind of sat there.”
That wasn’t good. Clay almost always had an opinion, and didn’t often hold back.
“Liza and I discussed the situation this morning. We think it’s time to execute Operation: Brenda Lee.” Kenni flashed a cheeky grin.
Maizie turned off the steamer. “How do you goof-balls propose we do that?”
“I found us a Brenda.” Kenni danced with excitement. “She sings at the Roadhouse Inn.”
Her cousin was so proud of herself that Maizie almost hated to ask the next question, but she knew the Roadhouse Inn’s reputation. The place was a dive.
“Who is she?”
“Her name’s Roxy Ledbetter. She’s one of Win’s clients.”
“Win, as in your husband, the criminal defense attorney?” Maizie asked.
“One and the same.” Kenni had the gall to chuckle.
“Please tell me she’s not a stripper or even worse—”
“Nothing like that. Roxy’s a nice girl. She just has atrocious taste
in men. Her skuzzy boyfriend implicated her in a case of grand theft auto and evading the cops. Win was able to get her out of it with nothing more than a fine, so she’s beholden to him.”
“Can she sing?”
“Of course.” Kenni put her hands on her almost nonexistent hips. “Do you think I’d recruit someone who couldn’t sing? Are you nuts? And the really good news is that she specializes in the oldies so she knows the song.”
Maizie wasn’t quite as sold on the whole idea as her cohorts seemed to be.
Kenni continued, clearly not picking up on Maizie’s lack of enthusiasm. “I talked to her today and told her we wanted a replay of the Romeo and Juliet balcony scene. Doesn’t that sound awesome?”
“That’s good, I guess.” Maizie really wished she was more on board with this. “How much is this going to cost?”
“That’s the best part. She’s doing it for free because she likes Win.”
“Free?”
“Yep, free as in no charge.”
“Oh, okay. What time?”
“She has to be at the Inn by nine, so we agreed on eight o’clock tonight.”
Maizie hugged her cousin. Even if the idea was goofy, she was touched by the effort. “You and Liza are the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. You guys have saved my bacon more than once.” Kenni grinned. “Do you think we can hide out in your mom’s kitchen and watch?”
“I can guarantee Mama’s gonna have a front row seat and I’m positive she’d loved the company.” Maizie pulled her cordless out from under a pile of jeans and punched in her sister’s number. “I’ll give Liza a buzz and see if she can join us.”
With luck this wouldn’t turn into another calamity.
TYPICAL OF MAMA, SHE’D laid out a cocktail party spread appropriate for royalty—chilled wine, gourmet hors d’oeuvres and Godiva chocolate.
“Do you guys really think this will work?” Maizie asked for the millionth time. Although she thought it had a miniscule chance of succeeding, she wouldn’t bet money on it.
