by Lynne Hinton
Wedding
Cake
LYNNE HINTON
For Isabella Valcárcel,
Gator girl, treasured friend,
law school bound.
Recipes
Title Page
Dedication
Cheese Balls
Cheese Cocktail Crackers
Chili Dip
Bacon-wrapped Fried Oysters
Cocktail Meatballs
Party Mix
Cheese Pennies
Clam Dip
Water Chestnut-Bacon Wraps
Chile con Queso
Spinach Surprise
James’s Pigs in a Blanket
Red Chile Chocolate Chip Cookies
Party Cheese Ball
Chile Cheese Samples
George’s Dipping Dip
Smooth Sanchez Dip
Lana’s Vegetable Dip
Chopped Chipped Beef Dip
Darlene’s Mini Sandwiches
Maria’s Wedding Puffs
Margaret’s Cheese Straws
Navajo Fry Bread
Perfect Coconut Wedding Cake
Acknowledgments
A+ Author Insights, Extras & More…
About the Author
Also by Lynne Hinton
Copyright
About the Publisher
Cheese Balls
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup flour
pinch salt
1 cup grated medium-sharp cheese
Mix with hands and roll into small balls. Bake 10 to 15 minutes on ungreased cookie sheet at 400 degrees.
—Beatrice Witherspoon
Chapter One
Charlotte speaking.” Charlotte Stewart was answering the phone at the women’s shelter where she worked as the executive director because Maria, the office volunteer, had gone into town to buy some stamps.
“So, how did it go?”
Charlotte smiled at the voice on the other end of the telephone. “Beatrice Newgarden Witherspoon, please tell me that you have not invested any of your money in starting a matchmaking service because you are really, really unqualified to handle these things.” Charlotte waited for the response. She always loved talking to her former parishioner and old friend.
“It was the hairpiece that threw you off, wasn’t it? I tried to tell him that in today’s time, bald is in.”
Beatrice had discovered that her husband’s boss, the owner of the funeral home in Hope Springs, North Carolina, had a nephew who was going to a conference in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She had met Rollin Fair a couple of times, and she knew he had gotten divorced and had been single for a few months. She just thought it was part of her Christian duty to help love along. Since Charlotte, her former pastor, was heading toward forty and was still single, and was conveniently located in Gallup, New Mexico, just a couple of hours away from the winter gathering of the National Funeral Directors Conference, it seemed inspired.
Rollin wasn’t really a great catch, but Bea knew that he was gainfully employed, had his own house, and, best of all, was located back in North Carolina. Besides, Dick, her husband, had told her that Rollin was a becoming a fine funeral director and a good businessman, in line to take over the family business. He had an excellent retirement package and a wonderful time-share rental in south Florida. Beatrice considered these to be honorable attributes and began making calls to Charlotte and to Rollin as soon as she heard that the divorce was final and that he was going to the conference out west. Besides, she was not ashamed of the fact that she was acting a little selfishly since she thought that if she could find her former pastor a love interest back in North Carolina, maybe Charlotte might come back home. Charlotte had finally agreed to go out with Rollin just to get Beatrice to leave her alone. The one blind date had been a catastrophe.
“No, I’m sorry to say that the hairpiece was not the worst part of the evening.”
“Oh dear.” Beatrice sighed. “He talked about his ex-wife, didn’t he?” Dick had also mentioned that the divorce had been a result of his wife having an affair and that Rollin was having a difficult time of it.
“For two hours straight. Beatrice, the man is a mess. Why on earth did you think we would enjoy each other’s company?”
“It just seemed ordained,” she answered.
“Ordained?” Charlotte asked. “Trust me, this was not ordained. Unless you think he needed a counselor, which, I would add, he certainly does.”
“Well, maybe when he gets over his grief, you’ll reconsider.” Beatrice remained hopeful.
“I somehow think that’s not happening anytime soon. In fact, if I wait around for him to get back to normal, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be coming to him for his professional services, meaning one of us will be on our deathbed.”
Beatrice laughed. “It was that bad, huh?”
“It was terrible.” Charlotte paused.
“Well, I’ll send you the money for the gas it took for you to drive to Albuquerque. And I’ll just keep looking for you.”
“No!” Charlotte quickly replied. “Please, don’t set me up with anybody else.”
“But dear, I feel that it’s my duty as your friend to help you find true love. I’ve already signed you up for one of those Internet dating services for people in the South. In fact, that was another reason I was calling. I need a few details.” Beatrice reached over and pulled out a file she had near the phone. She cleared her throat. “Do you have any prior convictions or have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?”
“Beatrice!” Charlotte yelled the name so loudly that one of the women walking by her office stopped and peeked in to make sure the executive director was okay. Charlotte smiled at the client and nodded, showing that she was just fine. “Beatrice, take my name off of that service. The last thing I need is to have some crazy man showing up at the shelter!”
“Oh, you’re right. I forgot about where you are now.” Beatrice blew out a breath. “Hey, how about any of those contacts? Do any of your women know anybody that could be a potential husband for you?”
Charlotte laughed. “Bea, these are survivors of domestic abuse. I don’t really think I want them hooking me up, if you know what I mean.”
“Right,” Beatrice agreed.
“Besides,” Charlotte noted, “I have met someone.”
“Who? Where?” Beatrice sounded excited.
Charlotte let out a heavy sigh. She had not intended to say anything to anybody, and particularly not to Beatrice. Even though she was a couple thousand miles away, Beatrice had a way of meddling that went beyond even great distances. “He’s a police officer. He’s from here,” she added.
“A policeman?” Beatrice asked. “You’re not paying off a parking ticket with sex, are you?”
“Bea, what is wrong with you?”
“I’m just asking.”
“No, Bea, I am not paying him off with sex.” Charlotte shook her head.
“Okay,” Beatrice responded, and then waited. “Then he’s not one of those dirty cops who takes money from strip club owners to look the other way when they’re running a prostitution ring, is he?”
“What? No.” Charlotte already regretted telling Beatrice the news. “Are you still getting HBO and not paying for it?”
“I’m still considering my entertainment options,” Beatrice replied. “And I have seen plenty of programs about bad cops.”
“He’s not a bad cop,” Charlotte responded. “He’s a good guy.” She thought about him, how he had smiled at her as they stood at her doorstep the night before when they went out on their second date. She remembered how kind he had been, how sweet. She blushed re-calling the innocent kiss he had plante
d on her cheek.
“You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?” Beatrice asked, aware of the sudden pause in the conversation.
Charlotte sat up in her chair, looking like she had just gotten caught by the high school principal for making out in the hallway. “I’m sorry, did you ask a question, Bea?”
“Are you going to tell me about him?”
Charlotte thought for a minute. “There’s not a lot to tell right now. We’ve only been out twice. His name is Donovan and he is Navajo.”
“Navajo? Like an Indian, Navajo?”
“Yes, like an Indian Navajo,” Charlotte answered.
“An Indian named Donovan?”
“Yes, Beatrice, an Indian named Donovan.”
“Hmmmmm,” Beatrice responded.
“So, what else is going on in Hope Springs?” Charlotte asked, changing the subject.
Beatrice sighed. She knew Charlotte was through talking about her new boyfriend. She was hoping for more information, but she would let Charlotte have her way now and would ask more questions later. She decided to go along with the new subject. “Louise heard from George.”
“Who’s George?” Charlotte asked, glad to have moved on.
“You know, the husband of Roxie, that woman she loved from her teenage years, the one she had move in with her when she got Alzheimer’s.”
Charlotte knew the name Roxie very well. She remembered how Louise Fisher, another woman from Hope Springs, had confessed her love for her oldest friend and how she wanted nothing more than to care for her, love her, be with her while she was dying. Roxie’s family allowed Louise to take her into her home because none of them, especially her husband, who was having an affair at the time, wanted the responsibility of caring for the dying woman.
“Why on earth did he contact Louise?” Charlotte asked. She re-called that George had never been very fond of Roxie’s best friend. Even Louise had said that he had always been suspicious of the friendship between his wife and the single woman from North Carolina. They had been civil with each other only because of Roxie, the woman they both loved. She had asked them to try and get along, so they had. When Roxie developed dementia, Louise and George had fought long and hard about her care.
“I’m not sure,” Beatrice answered. “Lou only said that he was planning a trip south and that he wanted to stop by and see her.”
Charlotte knew that Roxie’s family was from the Baltimore area. She remembered being with Louise after the funeral and how the friends from Hope Springs, calling themselves the cookbook committee because of their efforts to produce a church cookbook, drove together to Baltimore at Christmas to be with Louise at the time of Roxie’s death.
“Well, that’s weird,” Charlotte noted. “How long has it been since that funeral?”
“It seems forever,” Beatrice replied. “It seems a lot longer than Margaret’s.”
There was a pause in the conversation as both women thought of their very dear friend Margaret Peele. It had been only a few months since Margaret’s death, and all the women on the cookbook committee, all the friends, still grieved deeply over their common loss.
“You remember how Margaret got us to Baltimore?” Beatrice made a sort of clucking noise. “She was worried to death about Louise, called us to come up there and help.”
“As I recall, neither you nor Jessie needed a lot of convincing,” Charlotte said. “The two of you were packed and in that car before I even knew what was going on.”
“You went with us too,” Beatrice said. There was a softness in her voice. “I don’t remember much hesitation from you either.”
Charlotte smiled. She had always loved that cookbook committee, loved every one of its members: Jessie Jenkins, with her bold and brassy friendship; Louise, and her wonderful and attentive ways of caring; even Beatrice, the biggest busybody she knew … still, Beatrice had the biggest heart of all of them. Those women had taught Charlotte a lot about being the woman she wanted to be. But Margaret, Margaret had always been the special one of the group to Charlotte. Charlotte’s mother was still alive but the minister had never felt the same closeness with her own kin that she felt for her parishioner Margaret. The tears began to gather in her eyes. She still had a hard time talking about the woman who had taught her wisdom and strength and the true meaning of courage.
“We are quite the committee,” Charlotte said, reaching for a tissue.
“Yes, we are,” Beatrice agreed, sharing a few tears of her own. “Which is why we still have a commitment to each other.”
“Anything any of us needs,” Charlotte responded.
“Which is why I’m working so hard to get you married,” Beatrice added.
Charlotte laughed. “Beatrice Witherspoon, what am I ever to do with you?”
“Well, I’m going to hang up for now because I know you’re busy, but the next time we talk, I expect a full report on your Officer Love.”
“Donovan,” Charlotte said. “Donovan Sanchez.”
Beatrice waited. “Officer Donovan Sanchez,” she repeated. “Is that Spanish? What, is he biracial? Does he speak English?”
“Yes, Bea, he speaks English.”
Beatrice made a sort of humming noise. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this news. Even though she had talked to all their friends and knew that Charlotte was very happy in New Mexico, she had never given up hope that the young woman would get her fill of the Southwest and move back to North Carolina. The news that Charlotte had found love out where she was living hurt those odds.
“Did I mention that Rollin has a time-share in Miami? He gets two weeks a year at a condo right on the beach. I could call him up for you, help him find some counseling. Maybe they can do some of that electric shock therapy, like I saw on a documentary last week about people addicted to that new drug mets or something, and then you can go out with him again when he gets fixed up?”
“The drug is called meth and I don’t think so. But you’re kind to ask. However, I don’t really think me and Mr. Fair Jr. have much of a future together.”
“All right, I’ll not speak of him again.”
“Thank you, Beatrice.”
“You are welcome, Pastor Charlotte. But the next time we talk, I do expect more information about your Officer Sanchez.”
“Fair enough.”
“Love you, Charlotte.”
“Love you too, Bea.”
And the two women hung up their phones.
Cheese Cocktail Crackers
1 cup (½ pound) margarine, melted
2 cups sifted flour
⅓ cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1 cup chopped pecans
Blend margarine, flour, sugar, and salt until fine particles are created. Add cheese and blend. Mix in chopped pecans. Shape dough into a long roll 1½ inches in diameter. Wrap roll in waxed paper. Chill. Cut into ⅛-inch slices. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes. Makes 6 dozen.
—Jessie Jenkins
Chapter Two
An Indian police officer?” Jessie was cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. It was late morning, but she had gone walking right after finishing the meal. She had just gotten around to straightening up when Beatrice stopped by.
“Navajo,” Beatrice replied. She had decided to visit her friend after she had spoken to Charlotte. “Do you think I should get a rundown, do a 411 on him?”
Jessie turned to Beatrice. “Are you still stealing those cable programs?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes and sat down at the table. “I am not stealing programs. I just want to try them out before we pay for them.”
Jessie shot her friend a look of suspicion. “How much did you pay the television repairman to let you try it out?”
“Fifty bucks and it was his idea. I have always intended to pay for it once I decide whether or not I like the shows he got me.”
“Uh-huh.” Jessie went back to drying her dishes at the sink.
“
Besides, the young man needed a little extra cash. I was just trying to help him out a bit. You know Discount Danny doesn’t pay his workers enough money. That’s why they keep leaving him and going to work for Sears.”
“Danny pays his employees a fair price. He was the only white businessman to hire an African-American salesman. It was James Jr.’s first job and he worked for him a number of years. He’s a good man and an ethical businessman. He treated me and my family with the same respect he treated the white folks in this town. And I don’t think he would be too happy if he knew his crew was providing his customers with illegal services.”
“Getting the Weather Channel is illegal?” Beatrice asked, trying to sound innocent.
“It is if you aren’t a paying customer.” Jessie put the plates in the cabinet and dried off two coffee cups. She placed one in front of Beatrice. “How does that work anyway? How did he hook you up without having you register?”
“I don’t ask those kinds of questions,” Bea answered, taking the cup and sounding smug. She reached over and poured the coffee for herself from the pot that was placed in the center of the table. She took a spoonful of sugar and stirred it in. “He had some computer thingie that he slipped in the back of the television. I wasn’t watching so that I won’t need to lie if the cable people question me. But never you mind. I’m going to figure out which channels I want and I will have Lester come back and unhook me and then I’ll call the cable company and upgrade my order.”
“Uh-huh,” Jessie responded. She sat down across from her friend and poured a cup of coffee for herself. “Well, enough about your illegal activities. I don’t want to become an accessory to your bad behavior. Tell me more about Charlotte and her new love.”
“I don’t know a lot,” Beatrice replied. “Yet,” she added. “But I intend to find out more as soon as I can.” She thought about her earlier conversation. “I must say, though, she sounded smitten.”
“Smitten?” Jessie repeated. “I can’t say as I have ever heard Charlotte sound smitten.” She shook her head. “A Navajo police officer.” She smiled. “And she sounds smitten.”
