A Cherry Cola Christmas

by Ashton Lee

  “Of course not. What else did you want to tell me?”

  Emma took her time, her eyes shifting from side to side, but eventually got the words out. “It’s just that it’s been real hard on us—seein’ Leonard kinda disappear on us bit by bit. I don’t mean the time or two he got out of our sight and we had to track him down out in the backyard or sittin’ on the front stoop. I mean what’s goin’ on in his head. Sometimes, he’s just not there anymore. He’s someplace else, and I cain’t seem to pull him back.”

  “I’m sure that’s difficult for you, Emma,” Maura Beth said, leaning in to pat her on the hand several times. “But once the doctors tell you what’s going on for certain, you’ll be able to deal with it all better. These days, they have medications that help with all kinds of conditions.”

  “I hope so. But . . . there was somethin’ else.”

  “Go on, dear. I’m here for you.”

  Emma’s sigh was pronounced as she folded her hands in her lap, looking lost and forlorn. “The strangest thing is the way Leonard carries on about my birthday. Cain’t even remember when he started up, but he sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to me at the drop of a hat. I mean, I can be comin’ outta the shower drippin’ wet in my birthday suit, and there he is ready with another chorus.”

  Maura Beth cocked her head, struggling mightily to suppress a smile. “Things could be a whole lot worse, I guess. He could be snapping your picture. Is your birthday coming up soon? I always get yours confused with Renette’s.”

  “Still six weeks or more away. I’m not too thrilled about it since it happens I’ll be turnin’ sixty-five. Makes me feel real old, and I know I look every year of it. Now don’t lie to me and say I don’t. I know better. But Leonard, he forgets practically everything else these days, but he remembers my sixty-fifth birthday of all things. And every time he finishes singin’ to me, he winks and says, ‘Gonna have us a great little party, aren’t we? Just you wait’n see!’ ”

  Emma paused, looking more confused than anything else. “Miz Maura Beth, I’m here to tell you there was years he’d forget all about my birthday until the last minute and then he’d have to run out and buy somethin’ real quick off the rack that never fit me or was some god-awful color or print no respectable woman’d ever wear. Of course, I’d smile like it was just what I wanted and all and then give it to the Salvation Army when he wudd’n lookin’. Now I know this sounds kinda ungrateful of me, but I hope when the doctors tell us what’s wrong with him, they’ll have some a’ those pills you were talkin’ about that’ll make him stop singin’ to me. I’ve been Happy Birthday’ed near ’bout to death!”

  In spite of everything, the two women couldn’t help laughing, exchanging reassuring glances. “Well, how is he when it comes to your anniversary?” Maura Beth said.

  “Now that, he always forgets, and it’s been that way from when we was first married. Some men just cain’t seem to get that date through their heads!”

  Maura Beth looked particularly thoughtful and sank back in her chair. The remnant emotions of her honeymoon briefly flooded her brain. She hoped they would never stop visiting her. “It’s too soon for me to know how my Jeremy will be about handling such things as birthdays and anniversaries. But I have to tell you—so far, he’s been pretty romantic about everything.”

  Emma made a dismissive noise under her breath and threw up her hands. “Leonard, he never was. That’s why you’d think I’d really take to the way he’s runnin’ this birthday thing into the ground. But the truth is, I’d rather have him like he used to be—warts ’n’ all—than have whatever craziness is goin’ on in his brain.”

  “I know this is a trial for you, Emma, but try not to get too down in the dumps about it.”

  Emma glanced at her watch, sucked in air, and quickly rose from her chair. “I’ll do my best, Miz Maura Beth. Meantime, that front desk is callin’ my name. I do take my job seriously, ya know.”

  Maura Beth quickly rose and gestured toward the door. “I do—and that’s why I’ll see to it that you and your family are taken care of no matter what.”

  Maura Beth and Jeremy had just finished their dinner of trout amandine, garlic new potatoes, and fresh roasted asparagus at The Twinkle and had lingered after closing to catch up with Periwinkle Lattimore and her pastry chef and good friend—perhaps even significant other now—Mr. Parker Place. The four of them were sitting beneath one of the signature metallic star mobiles, lamenting the general state of affairs in Cherico, but particularly the mystery of Lalie Bevins’s missing tips.

  “Can you tell us everything Lalie remembers about that particular day?” Maura Beth was asking after a sip of the Chardonnay she’d held on to after the table had been cleared and Lalie herself had headed home. “Who else was working that afternoon?”

  “Ruby Varnell, my other waitress, wasn’t in for lunch service because she was under the weather, and Charlie Marks, my sous chef, doesn’t come in ’til the dinner service. I always handle things myself before then unless we’ve been rented out for a party. Anyway, I’d trust both Ruby and Charlie with my life savings. They’re hardworking, salt-of-the-earth people just like Lalie and her son, Barry.”

  “Who was Lalie serving?”

  “The two customers were my lawyer, Curtis Trickett, and Audra Neely. But they weren’t sitting together. Curtis came in around one o’clock, and he was entertaining about five of his big-time clients all at once. We had to put a coupla tables together for him, and he ran up quite a bill with the bottles of wine and the drinks and everything else they ordered. Guess it was one a’ those ‘thank you for the business’ things. And then Audra Neely and her assistant came in late, too, from her antique shop. Those two ladies are both hooked on my tomato aspic, just like Connie McShay,” Periwinkle explained. “But Lalie said this time they ordered big lunches and cocktails, and even a couple of aspics to go. Both Curtis and Audra have charge accounts with us, which we bill monthly, but they also prefer to pay as they go with their tips. Lalie said Curtis flashed a Benjamin Franklin at her as she was walking away with some of the dishes, and she also saw Audra put down a twenty. They’re both really big tippers—I can vouch for that myself.”

  “Wow! That sure is a lot of money for any waitress to lose!” Maura Beth declared.

  “Tell me about it,” Periwinkle continued. “Anyway, at that point there wudd’n anybody else in the dining room since it was nearly two o’clock by then. Lalie went into the kitchen with some of the dessert dishes, and when she returned a little bit later to collect the tips, the money was gone. Best we can figure out, somebody must’ve just walked in and taken it. Pretty all-fired brazen—even risky, if you ask me. Lalie could’ve returned at any time and caught ’em red-handed. Believe you me, if I’d seen who did it, I would’ve pressed charges right then and there. That’s a rotten thing to do—stealing money from a hardworking waitress on her feet all day. The very idea just makes my blood boil!”

  Mr. Place nudged her gently. “Tell ’em about the theory you had and the detective work you did.”

  Periwinkle frowned and shook her head. “Ya think?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Well, it’s those two high-school hooligans Lalie’s son, Barry, hangs out with all the time. Scott and—I think they call the other one Crispy ’cause he likes bacon so much. I mean, they phoned in that fake delivery order a while back and then tailgated Barry in our delivery van with their high beams on when he got out there in the boonies with all that food nobody ordered. Had us all scared half to death. So I told Lalie she needed to question Barry about those two and see if he could get ’em to fess up. But she said they swore they didn’t do it and hadn’t been anywhere near The Twinkle in a long time. She even called up their mothers about it, and they said those boys were still grounded from the dirty trick they played on Barry. So it seemed like a dead end. But Barry says he’ll bet anything those boys found a way to sneak in here and take that money, no matter what their mothers say.”

  “
So he thinks their mothers are covering for them, then,” Maura Beth said, sounding decidedly judgmental.

  Mr. Place spoke up with great authority. “We shared everything with the police and the sheriff, too, and I know they looked into it. But until anyone can prove anything different, I guess we have to believe those boys are innocent. I know for a fact that Barry’s a good kid. He does a bang-up job as our delivery guy all over town. That’s why I’ve been telling Peri we just might have to install one of those security cameras for the future. Hey, some of the other businesses swear by ’em, so maybe we better get with the program.”

  Periwinkle was running her fingers nervously through her dyed-blond hair, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Cherico never used to have problems like this. You’d think we were growing like mad and all sorts of new people were moving in that you didn’t know a hill a’ beans about. But the sad truth is, we’re losin’ population, and too many businesses have closed up lately. Harlan’s closed down the Marina Bar and Grill and left, of course, and I can’t say I’m sorry with all I went through with him trying to get back together with me. It’s just that some people never really thought they needed a security camera before now. Everybody trusted everybody else to do the right thing. This was an honest, churchgoing community. And now this has happened to change things for the worse. If it’s the beginning of a trend, it’ll boggle my mind.”

  “Peri made things right for Lalie, though,” Mr. Place added, casting an affectionate glance her way. “She made up the tips for her out of petty cash.”

  Maura Beth hoisted her wineglass without even thinking about it. “Good for you. But I would have expected nothing less.”

  “It’s not the amount of money, of course. It’s the principle of the thing. Plus, that still doesn’t solve Cherico’s problem,” Periwinkle pointed out. “Word’s gotten out about those tips, and it has everyone looking over their shoulder and second-guessing every customer who comes into their stores. Is shoplifting gonna be next? I never thought in a million years that Cherico’d be a paranoid place to live and work. That’s just what we need with the holidays coming up in a month or two.”

  “Well, there is something constructive we can all do about it,” Maura Beth said after finishing off her wine. “We can attend the special Cherry Cola Book Club meeting I’ve called this Friday. Sheriff Dreyfus is going to come by and share what he can about crime prevention in the community. He told me over the phone that he wants to set up a gigantic neighborhood watch for the whole town. Sooner or later, whoever did this will make a mistake and get spotted. Nobody was paying much attention before, but that’s going to be changing shortly.”

  Jeremy took a sip of his coffee and screwed up his features. “I’d say they have to be pretty clever. Or desperate.”

  “But why Cherico?” Periwinkle added with a dramatic sweep of her hand. “We’re just a small town in the middle of nowhere. Oh, sure, those of us who live here swear by it. But there’s not much of value to write home about. Unless you wanna talk about those expensive homes out at the lake like that lodge your aunt and uncle have, Jeremy. But that’s about it. I always think of crime as somethin’ that happens in big cities, and stealin’ tips from tables is strictly small potatoes, isn’t it?”

  “Apparently someone doesn’t think so,” Jeremy said.

  “Mama says she wants to come to hear the sheriff tell us all what to do to protect ourselves,” Mr. Place announced. “She wants to do her part to keep Cherico safe, bless her heart. Of course, she won’t be getting around much since I won’t let her drive by herself anymore—even with her new glasses, her eyesight’s getting even worse, and then there’s her arthritis that’s a lot worse than she admits. Lately, I think she’s been hiding some new aches and pains from me. I’ve spotted her catching her breath across the room on the sofa when she doesn’t think I’m looking.”

  “Your mother is a sweetheart, and you know it,” Periwinkle said, chucking him on the arm. “Ardenia’s really been very understanding about our relationship, Parker. Considering how things were when she was growing up here before the civil rights era, I can see how a white woman and a black man becoming an item might bother her a bit. They say old-school dies hard. But she’s been very warm and welcoming to me on my visits to your house.”

  “Mama just wants me—she wants us—to be happy now.”

  Maura Beth gave Periwinkle a saucy wink. “Is there an official announcement on the horizon?”

  “Not just yet. I think we’ll keep things the way they are for a while,” Periwinkle told her. “Maybe we’ll keep savin’ our money for a security camera or two instead of a wedding.”

  “Well, you just remember now—I want to be in your wedding if and when it happens,” Maura Beth continued. “After all, you were in mine, and you never looked more beautiful.”

  Periwinkle’s face lit up. “I have to admit it was pretty special out at the lodge. You and Jeremy did it up right with those original vows that took my breath away—not to mention the sun setting behind you out on the McShays’ deck. Y’all just timed it perfectly—right down to the second. And by the way, I still want prints of all of it. You promised me, Maura Beth.”

  “It’s as good as done.”

  “Oh, wait,” Mr. Place added with a little gasp. “Tell ’em all the good news after wading through all this mess about the tips.”

  Periwinkle lightly clapped her hands several times. “Yes, I almost forgot. It could be huge news for The Twinkle. Maura Beth, do you remember the text I got a good while back from Waddell Mack, the country singer? He said some friends of his had come through Cherico and eaten here and had recommended it highly to him.”

  “I think I vaguely remember something about it, but to be honest with you, I don’t listen to country music.”

  “Oh, I didn’t either—until I married Harlan John Lattimore and kept his books for him all those years before our divorce. I guess I heard more honky-tonk songs than I can count on that jukebox of his out at the Marina Bar and Grill. Honestly, it began to grow on me. Yeah, I know—sometimes it seems a little bit corny. Like, Waddell’s latest hit is ‘Don’t Sell Me Short When I’m Longin’ for You.’ But it’s kinda catchy—you don’t forget it.”

  Maura Beth felt it was her duty to smile at her friend’s enthusiasm. It was the least she could do. “Well, to each his own.”

  “Sure enough. But anyway, I got another text from Waddell Mack himself while you were off in Key West, and he said he would actually be passin’ through Cherico on his Christmas tour in early December. Seems he’s got two gigs in Mississippi—one in Tupelo at the BancorpSouth Arena and another one in Natchez at the Convention Center down there. Said he’s bound and determined to try two places to eat that come highly recommended—The Twinkle right here and Fat Mama’s Tamales down in Natchez. I’m so excited!”

  “That is terrific news,” Maura Beth said. “What an opportunity for you and the restaurant!”

  “Idd’n it? And he said he’d be glad to tweet about us before and after; and when I asked him if he’d autograph a picture of himself so I could hang it on the wall, he said he’d be more’n happy to do it. It’ll be tremendous publicity for not only The Twinkle but Cherico, too. And right now we could use some a’ that!”

  “You’ll have to be sure and keep me posted on the details.” Then Maura Beth quickly surveyed the table. “So, display of hands. We’re all coming to the meeting at the library Friday, right?”

  All hands shot up immediately.

  “Excellent. Cherico is nothing if not the little town that could.”

  3

  The Eyes and Ears of Cherico

  Sheriff Lon Dreyfus was a man who got right to the point. His frequent talks to civic groups never ran over or caused carefully planned agendas to fall apart—although he made it known that he was always available as a backup should any guest speaker fail to appear. Tall and gangly with an impressive salt-and-pepper mustache that dominated the lower half of his narrow face, h
e was a towering presence wherever he appeared on or off duty. Few people had ever chosen to “mess” with him, so to speak—not even Councilman Sparks and his City Hall cronies. In fact, the two men and their entourages kept a civil distance from one another, respecting each other’s territory in a gentlemen’s agreement between those in power in Cherico.

  “There are some things I can’t tell y’all about because we can’t share everything about an ongoing investigation,” the sheriff was saying, standing behind the podium in the library lobby. Before him in a semicircle of folding chairs sat most of the members of The Cherry Cola Book Club, hanging on his every word. One or two were even taking notes.

  “But I can tell ya what to be on the lookout for in the future to help nip crime of any sort—especially with Christmas shopping not all that far away. I suspect some of you have already done a little bit of it already. When you’re in any of our stores, look for groups of two or three people to start with—that is, if they’re strangers. Obviously, if you know who they are, chances are there’s nothing going on. But be very suspicious if they’re strangers and one of ’em is tying up a salesclerk, and the other two are in a different part of the store. What they’re up to is creating a distraction so the others can stuff things into their pockets or purses while no one’s paying attention. And that’s another thing—really big purses or bags can sometimes be a tipoff that somebody’s up to no good.”

  Justin Brachle, who sometimes went by the nickname of “Stout Fella” to his wife and most of the club, was quick to respond, raising his hand. “Sheriff, I don’t wanna sound like a typical dumb male here, but there are a whole lotta purses out there. For instance, my wife, Becca, has all sizes that she uses for just about every occasion under the sun. I mean, all I need is one measly wallet. We men aren’t fussy about that kinda thing. So, how big is really big?”

  That brought a wave of titters from all the members, and the sheriff enjoyed a laugh as well. “Good question. Just use your judgment here. If something seems really outta proportion, it might not be a bad idea to keep an eye on whoever’s carrying it around.” Then the sheriff ’s tone grew more serious. “Now don’t get me wrong here, folks. Just go about your daily bid’ness and don’t get paranoid. We’re not innerested in any citizen’s arrests here. Most people out there aren’t criminals, but we just want y’all to report anything that seems outta the ordinary or suspicious. You just tell us what you saw and then let us handle it from there.”