by Ashton Lee
Maura Beth had no sooner effortlessly parted The Cherico Market’s sliding glass doors and also yanked a cart out from the long, interlocking tangle of metal with some effort when the amiable, pudgy James Hannigan, immediately walked over to her and gently put his arm on her shoulder.
“So glad to see you today, Miz McShay,” the store’s long-time owner and Cherry Cola Book Club member said. “We’re starting something brand-new on Wednesdays, and I’m telling all of my wonderful customers about it as soon as they all come in. I think you’re just gonna love it, especially considering I bet you like to nibble a lot these days.”
Maura Beth could not deny the truth of that and said, “Tell me something I don’t know, Mr. Hannigan. I just can’t stop. Sometimes I feel like I could eat everything under the sun and then some, and I could swear I hear this baby of mine whispering in my inner ear all the time, ‘More, more, more. Gimme some more, Mama.’ And, of course, I talk right back, assuring my little one that more nourishment is indeed on the way.”
The two of them laughed, and Mr. Hannigan said, “That’s too funny. I don’t know why I’ve never done it before, but we’re gonna have free samples of various food items every Wednesday from here on. It’ll give you a chance to have a little taste of a few things maybe you haven’t tried before. Seems like this is the ideal time for you to do it, too.”
Maura Beth ran her tongue across her lips and gently rubbed her protruding belly. “Sounds yummy. Like what, for instance? I’ve discovered these last few months that there’s nothing I won’t eat.”
“Well, let’s see. I don’t want to forget anything.” He closed one eye in an effort to be thorough. “We have samples of pepper jack cheese in the dairy section, white and red grapes in the produce section, broken-off cookie pieces on the goodies aisle—I believe that they’re a new brand of dark chocolate chip we’re carrying—and mini slices of carved turkey and turkey bacon crumbles from the deli. Now, how does that sound to you? Delicious, I hope?”
Maura Beth gave a barely perceptible little shiver and then drew in her breath. “Like heaven on earth to a pregnant woman entering her third trimester. Just point me in the right direction and I promise to sample everything you’re offering up today. If it all goes well, I could bust my budget for you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that, but the produce is to your right, of course. She’s down there at the end by the melons with all the grapes in little paper cups. She’s the sister of one of our best stock clerks. Sweet little thing by the name of Cindy Pearson, and I’m trying her out, along with a few of her friends. I’m sure she’ll take care of you in style.”
“Even if I want too many grapes? I might go crazy you know. I do that all the time at home. Jeremy gives me the most incredulous stares when I go on one of my eating binges on the spur of the moment.”
Mr. Hannigan shrugged her off. “She’ll see you’re expecting. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
On that particular Wednesday, Maura Beth had indeed liked everything she sampled at all the stations, and as a result, she added a block of pepper jack cheese, a large bunch of white grapes, a package of carved turkey slices, and a box of dark chocolate chip cookies to the considerable list Jeremy had prepared for her. Furthermore, once she had gotten all the groceries home, she had sat down at the kitchen table and kept right on sampling. Who would have guessed that bites of turkey would pair so well with white grapes, and that pepper jack cheese slices would provide the perfect savory companion for each and every dark chocolate chip cookie she gobbled down? It was an unlikely feast—a study in yin and yang—but one she did not quit until she had devoured nearly half of the extra items she had bought after such a delightful afternoon of sampling. Did it get any better than that?
That was when Maura Beth decided to let Elise and Periwinkle in on the deal. She called each of them up and told them about the Wednesday sampling and what a satisfied piggie she had made of herself with no regrets whatsoever. To her way of thinking, three little satisfied piggies were better than one—and would be much more fun an experience to share.
“Let’s circle the next Wednesday,” she told them, sounding like a schoolgirl getting ready to go shopping for a prom dress. “It will be our girls’ afternoon out. Just us, our grocery carts, our baby bumps, and our appetites. I know Mr. Hannigan will be delighted to see us all. He’s such a dear man, and he’s always been there for me since I came to Cherico. I know I wouldn’t have been able to keep the old library open and get the new one built without him making all those announcements over his PA system and letting me pin my petition pamphlets all over his bulletin board. The extra business will be one way I can pay him back. This will be impulse buying at its best.”
Both Elise and Periwinkle thought the outing sounded like a lark, but Elise went one step further after a spontaneous inspiration. “Let’s call ourselves The Free Sample Sisters. Our motto will be, ‘Arise and nibble!’ I’m big on the sociology of women sticking together, as you know. As a matter of fact, why don’t we ask my aunt Connie to go along with us? We shouldn’t restrict this to those of us who are pregnant. That would be very undemocratic of us. Besides, she’s waited on me hand and foot, so why not do something fun for her?”
“I agree,” Maura Beth said. “I’ll even get in touch with Becca, Voncille, Nora Duddney, and some of the other ladies in the book club. We’ll make memories we’ll never forget.”
“Should we let Mr. Hannigan know we’re on the way?” Elise added. “He’s probably never had a small army of pregnant women coming at him. I wonder if he’s ever seen such a spectacle.”
“Nah,” Maura Beth told her. “Let’s just surprise him. He’s a darling man. He’ll roll with the punches.”
* * *
Although everyone Maura Beth contacted thought the debut of The Free Sample Sisters sounded like a blast, only Connie was able to accept the free-wheeling invitation to participate. Becca had to take Markie to the pediatrician that day for a checkup, Voncille was going out of town with husband Locke Linwood to visit a cousin of his in the Delta, and the others had appointments or commitments they simply could not cancel. Perhaps another Wednesday, they all said, but it was clear from their tone of voice that they all meant it. First, The Cherry Cola Book Club, and now, this new concept from Maura Beth to play around with.
So they were to be four in number when the next Wednesday finally rolled around at The Cherico Market—“The Free Sample Sisters and Their Mother Hen”—as Connie had designated herself jokingly in the interim. Pulling their cars up in the parking lot one after another, they walked through the doors with the soldierly look of women on a mission. They had agreed not to be too methodical about it all—they would set out in different directions around the store, more like they were on a scavenger hunt; but they would willingly share news of their sampling discoveries with one another as they merrily rolled along. It was highly doubtful that schoolgirls could have this much fun with so little planning.
Even though he had not been forewarned of their presence, Mr. Hannigan was quick to spot them near the bulletin board and approached them in his usual effortless, jovial mood.
“We’ve all come to sample to our heart’s content,” Maura Beth told him even before he could open his mouth. “Tell us what’s on the menu today, and we promise to visit every station you have. And if we like what we sample, we’ll probably buy a lot more of it. We’re on a spree, and we’ve all told our checkbook registers to loosen up for the day.”
Mr. Hannigan looked as if he’d just hit a slot jackpot, clasping his hands together excitedly. “What a fun group of lovely ladies you all are. Well, today we’re sampling cheese mini-quiches and broccoli salad in the deli section. Then we have turkey bacon crumbles and turkey frankfurter nibbles on toothpicks over by the meat.” He paused briefly and then chuckled wickedly. “And for those with a sweet tooth—and I know y’all probably have ’em in a big way—we have fresh blueberries and fresh strawberries in produce and spoonfuls
of Italian gelato over by the freezer section. Two kinds of gelato, in fact—salted caramel and chocolate mocha. Oh, and a new brand of rosemary crackers by the cookies and crackers. Should be perfect for all those canapés you ladies like to serve up at your parties and such. How does that sound to you?”
“Let us at it all,” Maura Beth said. “And we’ll try not to clean you out. We barely had our usual breakfasts this morning in honor of the occasion. We didn’t want to spoil our appetites.”
Mr. Hannigan’s smile was easy as he wrinkled his nose and indicated the aisles with a sweep of his hand. “Don’t worry about a thing, ladies. Please, all of you, just be my guests.”
Then, as if a starting gun had been shot in the air, they were off to the races, pushing their carts with the sort of boundless energy that might be reserved for game-show participants with an eye on a time clock. This, despite carrying the extra weight of a blessed event.
“I simply can’t start off sampling sweets even if I am pregnant and sometimes out of my mind some mornings,” Elise said over her shoulder as she headed toward the middle of the store. “I think I’ll try the crackers first and then move on from there. Seems like the natural order of things to me.”
“Well, I’m not standing on ceremony. We make up our own rules here today. I think those mini-quiches sound perfectly divine,” Connie said. “I’m off to the deli to get first dibs.”
“I’ll go with you,” Maura Beth added. “They do sound like they’ll hit the spot. Where are you headed, Periwinkle?”
“All that fresh fruit sounds good to me. Maybe that’ll ruin my appetite, but to each her own. I’ve found out that nothing makes much sense anymore when it comes to eating. I just go with the flow, and Parker just shakes his head.”
For the sheer fun of it, Mr. Hannigan decided to keep an eye on the proceedings as best he could, though it would turn out to be quite a task.
First, Maura Beth and Connie sidled up to the quiche station and helped themselves to two each of the dainty little pies, and Mr. Hannigan quickly stepped in to advise his string bean of a stock clerk, Marvin Upton. “They can have as many as they want, son. There’s plenty more back in the deli.”
“These are just heavenly,” Connie said, licking her fingers. “I can’t believe you’ve never offered these before. Where have you been hiding them?”
Mr. Hannigan looked supremely pleased with himself. “Up my sleeve, I guess.”
“You run and go tell the others, Connie,” Maura Beth said. “They’ve absolutely got to get in on this.”
With Connie off to the races, Mr. Hannigan pointed to the broccoli salad station down the aisle. “You gotta try our souped-up broccoli concoction, Miz Maura Beth. Ask little Linda Eason over there to let you taste a coupla cups.”
Maura Beth made short work of her samples and beamed at Linda. “You didn’t by any chance make this, did you? If you did, I want the recipe this minute. What are these in here—golden raisins? And do I taste water chestnuts?”
“I’m not sure what all is in there,” Linda told her. “I just serve it up. Somebody back in the deli department did it. I’m real glad you like it so much. Mr. Hannigan’ll be pleased.”
Then Elise and Periwinkle arrived, rubbing their hands together. “What’s this about the quiche Connie keeps telling us?” Elise said.
“See if I’m exaggerating, ladies,” Connie said. “Go over there and try one. You won’t believe how light they are.”
“And when you get back,” Maura Beth added, “don’t miss this broccoli salad.”
The enthusiastic sampling continued, stopping short of a feeding frenzy.
“How were those rosemary crackers?” Maura Beth asked Elise at one point.
“They weren’t half-bad,” Elise told her. “But maybe just a tad bit too much rosemary for my tastes. When there’s too much, it starts to taste soapy.”
Maura Beth looked genuinely puzzled. “I never heard that one before, but then I’ve never been a big rosemary fan.”
“Me neither,” Periwinkle added. “Although I don’t understand the soapy thing. Do you mean it tastes like hand soap or dishwashing soap?”
Elise shrugged. “Either one.”
“Anyone for turkey bacon?” Connie said, bored with the rosemary/soap discussion. “I’m kinda curious to try it. Douglas says I’d better not ever bring home anything but the real thing. He insists turkey is strictly for Thanksgiving.”
“Here’s my advice to you, Aunt Connie,” Elise said. “Just slip it in next to his scrambled eggs sometime. Maybe he won’t even know the difference unless you tell him. So I say, on to the meat department!”
They all hung out there for quite a while, going back and forth between the cups of turkey bacon crumbles and the turkey frankfurter pieces on toothpicks. There was a hickory barbeque dipping sauce on hand for good measure, and all the happy raves attracted even more customers to the fold.
“I really think I can fool Douglas with these frankfurters,” Connie said finally. “Except I wouldn’t think of it as fooling him. I think these things are really tasty if you ask me.”
“Parker knows his sweets, that’s for sure. He kinda leaves the meat department up to me most of the time. But I bet if I cut up some of these frankfurters and put ’em in an omelet, he’d be asking me for the recipe,” Periwinkle said.
Then they all decided to wrap up their yummy outing with the gelato flavors Mr. Hannigan had been touting for some time now. After he’d led them over to the station by the freezer compartment, Maura Beth and Elise tried several spoonfuls of the salted caramel, while Connie and Periwinkle chose the chocolate mocha. Then the couples switched.
“I’m taking a gallon of this salted caramel home,” Maura Beth said. “It’ll save me the trouble of sending Jeremy out in the middle of the night.”
Elise backed her up. “I’m stocking Aunt Connie’s freezer. Got enough room in there?”
“More than enough. But I think I’m going to go with the chocolate mocha,” Connie said.
“I was gonna go that route, too,” Periwinkle said. “But maybe there’d be too much caffeine in the mocha, ladies. Whaddaya think?”
Maura Beth looked slightly startled. “I forgot about that. Yeah, Periwinkle. Maybe you’d better stick with the salted caramel, too.”
In the end everything was a hit except the rosemary crackers and the chocolate mocha gelato, but Mr. Hannigan considered this particular sampling to be very successful.
“I’ve got a great idea for you, Mr. Hannigan,” Maura Beth said at the checkout counter. “You need to show up at our next Expecting Great Things meetings at the library next Friday. I’ll give you the floor and you can tell all about your sampling sessions to the other pregnant women who show up. Some of them may not know about them yet, although it’s not for lack of The Free Sample Sisters spreading the word around. That should do the trick.”
“I wonder what Cherico would do without you, Miz Maura Beth,” he told her.
Maura Beth gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “You never have to wonder about that, Mr. Hannigan. I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
As it would turn out, The Free Sample Sisters did not restrict themselves to carefree Wednesday outings at The Cherico Market for their bonding once the third trimester had set up camp in earnest. Not only did they share their crazy, food-craving experiences over the phone and continue to frequent meetings of Expecting Great Things—including the one that James Hannigan attended—but they eventually decided they needed even more contact of the intensely personal sort. All three pregnant women discovered through their conversations with one another that they were now dealing with unexpected demons and needed to exorcise them as soon as possible.
For Elise, it was the upcoming confrontation about the source of her pregnancy with her parents—Paul and Susan McShay—who would be coming down from Brentwood for Thanksgiving at her aunt Connie and uncle Doug’s lodge. She needed advice in the worst way on how to handl
e the situation, and she figured three pregnant brains would be better than one.
For Periwinkle, there was the devastating unpleasantness between herself and Mama Kohlmeyer regarding her marriage and her mixed-race baby. She had, in fact, not yet let her husband, Parker, know about her mother’s racist rejection of their child, though he already knew that Mama Kohlmeyer had not approved of the marriage and had been unwilling to set foot in The Cherico African Methodist Episcopal Church for the ceremony. How much longer did she dare keep the rest from him; and was there any hope of changing her mother’s mind?
As for Maura Beth, a recent but perhaps inevitable development had reared its annoying head: the baby name game. Cara Lynn Mayhew, ever the New Orleans socialite supreme, had entered the picture with effusive suggestions for both a boy and a girl grandchild. In her naïveté a few months earlier, Maura Beth had imagined she might be able to get away with honoring both sides of the family by using such first names as Cara and Susan for a female, and William and Paul for a male. But she had another jolting thought coming, at least from her mother.
“I would just love for you to consider something from my side of the family,” Cara Lynn had begun during one of her marathon long-distance calls. “Of course, I suppose you could always use Mayhew from your father’s side. He’s probably expecting it since his name couldn’t be carried on any other way. But, we have such lovely, distinguished choices from mine: Healy, Abbott, Beresford, and Profilet, for starters. Any of those would work for either a boy or a girl, don’t you think? Using last names for first names works very well for many families.”
Temporarily blindsided, Maura Beth tried to remain noncommittal. “I hadn’t really thought about it that much.”
