by Sharon Sala
LilyAnn beamed. “I sure am! Why wouldn’t I be?”
Carol blinked. “Well then, I’ll get the appetizers and get out of your way.”
“You’re never in the way. If you run out, there’s always more.”
“We don’t need more, or we will be too full to enjoy all this food you’re making.” Then she paused. “Mike said he invited his friend to dinner. I hope you’re okay with that.”
Lily threw back her head and laughed. “Look at all this! There’s food for even ten more of Mike’s friends. One little bitty redhead won’t make a dent in all this… bless her heart.”
Carol’s eyes widened. She bit her lip and then held her breath.
Lord, Lord, Mike has gone and put his foot in it this time.
Without saying a word, she took the appetizers to the living room, then grabbed Grace’s arm.
“We have to talk,” she hissed.
Grace gasped. “What’s wrong?”
Carol shook her head and pulled her by the arm down the hall and into Grace’s bedroom.
Grace was frowning. “Carol, what on earth is the matter with you?”
“Mike invited the woman who works for him at the fitness center to dinner today.”
Grace’s heart sank. “Really? Oh, well, I’m sure it will be fine with LilyAnn. She seems to be fixated on anyone but Mike.”
Carol sighed. “I don’t know what she told you, but I know what she just told me about Mike’s guest. When I expressed concern, she laughed, said one little bitty redhead wouldn’t put a dent in all the food she had made, and then she said, ‘Bless her heart.’”
Grace grinned. “Did she really?”
Carol nodded.
Grace sat down on the side of the bed. “She said, ‘Bless her heart’?”
Carol nodded again. “Southern code for everything from ‘you’re a bitch’ to ‘kiss my ass.’ She’s mad, Grace.”
Grace’s smile widened. “Then that means she’s jealous. She may not know it yet, but she is, which means there’s still hope for us yet.”
Carol sighed. “We did everything we knew how to do to throw them together when they were growing up, which, now that I look back, was probably wrong. Familiarity breeds contempt, and all that. She sees him as family, not someone to be in love with.”
Grace patted Carol’s hand. “Be happy that Mike’s happy with a new girl.”
Carol snorted. “Mike will never be happy without LilyAnn. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s playing with fire right now. Lord, Lord, what a Thanksgiving dinner this is turning out to be.”
They heard the doorbell. Grace frowned. “Who might that be?”
“Mike?” Carol asked.
Grace shook her head. “He doesn’t ring the doorbell.”
Carol went to the door to listen. “Well, he did today because I hear his voice.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Let’s get back. I’m thinking referees might be needed.”
They reached the living room just as Mike was beginning introductions.
“Mom! Grace! Just in time. This is Honey Andrews. She’s the masseuse at the fitness center. Honey, this is my mother, Carol, and the pretty lady in blue is Grace Gleason, Eddie’s wife. Grace is LilyAnn’s mother and like a second mother to me.”
Honey Andrews flashed smiles at both women, revealing dimples and snow-white teeth. Her dark red sweater made a statement against the copper red of her hair, and black slacks fit her curvy body like a second skin. When she walked, the heels of her black pumps clicked on the hardwood floor.
“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Honey said. “Thank you so much for allowing me to share your holiday meal.”
“Well, hi, y’all. I thought I heard other voices in here.”
LilyAnn strode across the room with a smile on her face stretched from ear to ear and immediately thrust her hand forward.
“You must be Homey. I’m LilyAnn Bronte, the absent hostess, and it’s my home in which you will be dining, so welcome, welcome.”
Mike glared at LilyAnn, but she was ignoring him.
“My name is Honey,” Honey repeated, still smiling, still working the dimples.
Lily giggled. “Well, silly me. When Mike asked if he could bring you to dinner, I would have sworn he said Homey. I do apologize. Whatever must you think of me?”
Honey shook her head. “That’s fine. We all make mistakes.”
“Bless your heart. You are a sweetheart,” LilyAnn said, and then waved a hand at Mike as if he’d just committed the biggest faux pas. “Mike, for goodness sake. Get your honey Honey something to drink.”
Then LilyAnn giggled again. “Your honey, Honey… oh my goodness, I’ll bet people play with your name like that a lot. Well, so nice to meet you. Enjoy yourselves. If y’all get bored with all the man talk, feel free to join me in the kitchen. I promise not to make you work.”
She wiggled her fingers in a darling little bye-bye motion and strode out of the room with a toss of her head and her backside swinging.
Mike didn’t know what to think. She’d been so damn nice, and he’d been hoping for at least a frown. He glanced at Honey, who was already engaged in conversation with his dad at the wet bar. When he looked at his mom and Grace, they were grinning. He glared at the both of them. He didn’t know what the hell was funny and wished this day was already over.
On the other side of the room, Carol moaned.
“She said ‘bless her heart’ again.”
Grace sighed. “Temper does run in the family. LilyAnn’s great-great-grandma Delia once shot the hat off a Yankee general for pushing his way into her house on the plantation without taking it off first. At least Mike had the good sense to ask if he could bring a guest before he showed up with her.”
Carol’s eyes widened. “I need a drink.”
“Sweet tea or hard lemonade?” Grace asked.
“I believe I could do with a little hard lemonade. My nerves are shot. Oh. Lord. Poor choice of words. Not shot, but I do believe my nerves are a bit raggedy.”
Grace chuckled.
* * *
Lily was furious. The bitch was pretty, and her teeth looked like a billboard ad for chlorine bleach.
“Probably glow in the dark,” Lily muttered. “I could ask Mike. No telling what else on her glows in the dark.”
She was slamming lids and stirring sauces with all the vehemence she could muster. The extra heat in the kitchen had put roses on her cheeks and a damp sheen on her peaches-and-cream skin. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned around, the knife she was holding aimed straight at Mike’s belly.
“What?” she snapped.
He eyed the knife and blinked. “Uh…your mom sent me in here to get more ice.”
She waved the knife toward the deep freeze in the utility room and turned her back on him.
Mike frowned. “Are you mad?”
Her eyes were flashing as she spun around again. “Mad? As in mad as a hatter? Or mad, as in off my fucking rocker? Why, no! Why on earth would you think that?”
Mike’s stomach knotted. She was mad, as in off-her-fucking-rocker mad. He made a beeline for the deep freeze, refilled the ice bucket, and darted out of the kitchen.
He paused in the doorway, eyeing the assembly in the living room. Honey was having herself a ball, chatting up all the men and flashing winning smiles at the women. What they didn’t know was that if Honey was inclined to flirt, it would probably be with LilyAnn, because that’s how Honey Andrews rolled.
He caught his mother’s eye. She came to relieve him of the ice bucket.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Good. Your Honey seems sweet,” Carol said.
Mike nodded. “Yes, she is.”
Carol elbowed him. �
��LilyAnn is mad, isn’t she?”
Mike’s eyes widened, surprised she knew that. “As a wet hen.”
“Jealousy will do that to a woman,” she said, and walked away.
At that moment, it felt like all the breath had just left Mike’s belly. Jealous? LilyAnn was jealous of Honey? Son of a gun. Ruby Dye had been right. All of a sudden, the day had taken a sharp turn to the good. He took off for the wet bar.
“Hey, Dad, hand me a couple of bottles of that hard lemonade.”
Don pointed across the room at Honey.
“Honey’s drinking tea.”
“One is for LilyAnn. I was just in the kitchen, and she looked hot enough to spontaneously combust. I thought I’d cool her off a bit.”
“Ah, good thinking,” Don said.
Mike picked up the frosty bottles and made a return trip to the kitchen. Again, LilyAnn bristled at his approach, but he was ready for her this time.
“I know you’re busy, but I hated to think of you in here by yourself while we’re out there enjoying the fruits of your labor. I brought something to cool you off.”
She sputtered a bit, wanting to argue, but manners won out as she took a quick sip.
“Thank you. That does hit the spot. I appreciate you being so thoughtful.”
He shrugged. “I owe you my life.”
Her eyes narrowed. “In some cultures, that means you owe me forever.”
Mike smiled. “I guess it does. Well, let me know when you’re ready for me to pay up. In the meantime, I’ll get out of your hair.”
He strolled out with a grin on his face, leaving Lily not only hot, but also confused. She took another drink of the lemonade and then sighed as it slid down her throat. The warmth it left afterward was nice, and before she knew it, she’d emptied the bottle.
* * *
It was just past 12:30 when LilyAnn took off her apron and went to the bathroom in the utility room to wash up and fix the hair that had come down from her clip.
She refreshed her lipstick, sprayed her hair with a little hair spray, started to pinch her cheeks, then stopped. They were already pink enough. The lemonade had left her feeling easier about the whole day, which was good, because they still had an entire dinner plus dessert to get through before Mike took Miss Honey-Ass Andrews home.
After one last look at her appearance, Lily headed for the dining room. Everything was in place, including the turkey that was ready for Eddy to carve. She had to admit that the table looked amazing. There was only one thing left to do. She moved toward the living room with her shoulders back and her chin up.
“Hey, y’all. I hope you’ve saved some of your appetite. Dinner is served.”
They filed into the dining room, still talking.
“This looks amazing,” Honey said as Mike seated her between him and his mother. “I can’t cook worth a darn. If it wasn’t for Granny’s Kitchen across the street from work, I’d be eating out of cans.”
LilyAnn smiled. Strike one against the bitch. She couldn’t cook.
“Don, would you mind giving the blessing? And Eddie, I would appreciate it if you would carve the turkey,” Lily said.
Eddie beamed. Turkey carving was a status given to the head of the family, and he’d been feeling a bit left out with all these people talking about old times and memories he had not shared.
Grace glanced at her daughter and mouthed a “thank you.” LilyAnn smiled. She’d do whatever it took to make her mama happy.
Then her gaze slid to the redhead on Mike’s right and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Mike saw the look and didn’t know whether to be concerned or elated. Either way, he’d definitely stirred the pot of their relationship.
“Let us pray,” his dad said, and bowed his head.
Lily listened absently as Don blessed the food, the cook, the family members who were missing from the table, the ones who were sitting at the table with him—and he was about to launch into a whole new prayer group when Carol nudged him under the table. He quickly brought the prayer to an end.
Eddie stood up and, with a grand flourish of the slicing knife, began carving the turkey, complying with requests for white meat or dark, while Grace held the plates that were passed.
LilyAnn leaned back in her chair, smiling in satisfaction. Except for Honey Andrews, the people she loved most were sitting at this table. And the moment she thought that, her heart skipped a beat.
Loved most?
As in family, she meant. Not as in love, love.
Plates began to fill and conversation waned as they dug into the food. Lily fielded praise for the food she’d prepared with all the grace of a Peachy-Keen Queen. But the longer she sat, the louder her inner self was yelling.
You said it, and you know you said it! The people you love most are here, and lying to yourself about what you meant is stupid, LilyAnn. You can’t lie to yourself. Just face it. Mike might mean more to you than you ever considered. And it’s your own fault for missing the signs. He wasn’t the one prowling All Saints Cemetery for the past eleven years. That was you. And, it’s your own fault that he’s finally interested in something besides wiping the tears off your dumb face.
“LilyAnn! LilyAnn!”
She blinked and looked up from her plate. “Huh? What?”
Her mother was frowning. “Honey is speaking to you.”
Lily blinked and pasted a big smile on her face. “Oh my stars! Forgive me! I think I went into my own little world there for a minute. Chalk it up to good food and tired feet. So what’s on your mind, sugar?”
Honey smiled. “I was telling Mikey that I’d never eaten dressing quite like this. It’s very tasty. Just different from what we eat back home.”
LilyAnn bristled. Different meant less than perfect, which she took as a slight, but she hid it with a smile.
“Really? What do y’all put in your cornbread dressing?” she asked.
Honey frowned. “Oh, we don’t do cornbread at all. It’s torn-up bits of bread with different herbs and, of course, the clams. Can’t have dressing without the clams.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Clams? Well, I’ll say. Where are you from?”
“Boston,” Honey said.
“Ah, that explains it,” LilyAnn muttered.
“Explains what?” Honey asked.
LilyAnn flashed Honey another hundred-watt smile with just the teeniest dart of venom.
“You’re a Yankee, sugar. Welcome to Thanksgiving in the South.”
Honey felt LilyAnn’s fury as if it was physical. She knew she was supposed to be making this woman jealous, but she didn’t want to get her so pissed she caused harm. Honey was real fond of her face and all that went with it.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. When in Rome, and all that,” Honey said.
Lily’s voice went up an octave.
“Speaking of Rome. I heard Patty June Clymer has an amazing slide-show presentation of her tour of Italy.”
“Patty June went to Italy? Where was Conrad?” Grace asked.
Mike groaned. He already knew where this was going but didn’t know how to stop it.
“Oh, Mama, you wouldn’t believe! It was the biggest scandal a few months back,” Lily said. “She found out Conrad was having an affair with Bobbette Paulson, and when she and Bobbette accidentally wound up in The Curl Up and Dye on the same day, she lost it. Took Vesta Conklin’s hair clippers right off her station, walked up behind Bobbette, grabbed a handful of her long red hair, and shoved her facedown on the manicure table, breaking her nose.
“Blood was spurting everywhere as Patty June proceeded to shave off a strip of hair right down the middle of Bobbette’s head wide enough to park a car on. Symbolically speaking, of course.” Then she giggled. “No disrespect meant to your red hair, Honey. It’s… eye-catching.”
Both Car
ol and Grace were in shock. “The preacher was having an affair with Bobbette? I assume he got fired.”
“And then some,” Mike said, and tried to steer the conversation to another topic. “Speaking of red, I heard Santa Claus is going to make a surprise appearance in Blessings on December first to launch the holiday season. I think that was Sue Beamon’s brainchild. Ever since she wound up on the Chamber of Commerce she’s been full of ideas.”
But the women weren’t done with the preacher’s affair and ignored Mike’s attempt to change the conversation.
“So what happened to Bobbette?” Grace asked.
Lily put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “She picked up those clippers and finished shaving herself bald because she said it all needed to match, wrapped a towel around her head, stuffed another one under her bloody nose, and called her mama. You know how it is. You can act like a slut all over the place, but when you’re down and out, there’s only one person you trust to have your back, and that’s your mama.”
Carol shook her head in disbelief. “Good Lord! Being close to our grandchildren is why we moved to Denver, but I’m thinking we’re missing out on a whole lot of life by not living here in Blessings.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” LilyAnn said, fixing Mike and Honey with a sweet-as-sugar smile. “I’m sure Mike will furnish you with some more grandchildren soon enough.”
Honey looked a little nonplussed, and Mike was speechless.
At that point, LilyAnn stood up from the table.
“Dessert, anyone? And y’all better not tell me no. I have pecan pie and pumpkin pie with whipped cream. If you’ll pass your plates to me, I’ll carry them out.”
“I’ll help,” Grace said.
“And me,” Carol added.
LilyAnn beamed. “Isn’t this fun? I think this just might be my best Thanksgiving ever.”
And with that, she set sail from the room with a toss of her head and her hips swaying. As her granny used to say, it felt good to be pissed now and then. It set the juices to flowing.
Chapter 11
Don Dalton leaned back with a groan, patting his belly.
