The Sisters Café

by Carolyn Brown

  “Jack is my best friend, next to Trixie. He knows I like cowboys.”

  Agnes drew back her hand. “Then don’t talk like that in front of me.”

  Agnes knew exactly how Marty felt. That blasted Violet looked so smug at church every Sunday morning, sitting there between Cathy and Ethan like she was afraid they’d have sex right there on the church pew and ruin his chance at election. Agnes had thought about standing up in the middle of the sermon and dropping the F-bomb on Violet just so God would send down lightning streaks. She would hide under the pew, and the lightning could fry Violet right there in church. It would be death by natural causes and not murder, so Agnes wouldn’t have to spend a single day in jail.

  Agnes had wanted to be invited to join the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society back when Jane Slidell died in 1960, but Violet wasn’t having any part of that idea. Then in 1972, Gladys Overton broke her hip and moved to Louisiana to live with her daughter. Before poor Gladys unpacked her knickknacks in her new bedroom at her daughter’s house, Violet had Lizzy Beechman’s name on the club roster. In 1980, Edith Walton suffered heat stroke and Agnes just knew when Edith passed on she’d be asked to join. Violet sponsored Inez Green that year. In 1991, Ruby Dantrell dropped dead from a heart attack and fell right into her rosebushes, and be damned if Violet didn’t sponsor the twins’ mother instead of Agnes, just to lord it over her even more. Then three years ago, Clovis Richman died, and the twins’ mother put her daughters’ names into the pot for consideration. Agnes heard later that Beulah had nominated her again, but she’d only gotten three votes. After that, everyone knew that as long as Violet had a breath left in her body, Agnes Flynn would never get into the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society.

  Agnes would far rather see Cathy hooking up with Jack as Ethan. At least Beulah had nominated her and didn’t act like God’s throne wasn’t good enough for her to park her fat ass on.

  “Hey, y’all. What’s going on with the Caddy?” Cathy asked.

  Agnes kicked the cigarette butt under the car. “They’re fixin’ it again but it’s goin’ slow. How did the club go?”

  “I told Ethan I didn’t want to live with his mother.”

  “Good for you. Your mamma’s pearls look nice,” Agnes said.

  The compliment startled Marty so bad that she dropped her beer and it sloshed on Cathy’s shoes. She jumped up, peeled off a fist full of paper towels, and dabbed at the shoes. “Dammit to hell! I’m sorry, Cathy. You just bought those shoes for that press shit this next weekend.”

  “They are knockoffs, and I didn’t spend that much. Besides, my whole outfit is wrong. I should wear a royal blue suit and a scarf because they are in fashion. The pearls aren’t the in thing, and by all means, I must have a flag on my lapel.”

  “I suppose that bitch told you to do that?” Agnes said.

  Cathy nodded. “She means well, Aunt Agnes. She wants everything to be perfect for Ethan. I guess that makes us working toward the same end, doesn’t it?”

  “She wants to be God, and honey, she does not mean well. She’s training you to obey her every whim and wish. Your life is going to be pure hell. Did Ethan say you could have your own place?” Agnes asked.

  Cathy shook her head slowly. “He didn’t, not really. But I might have persuaded him if Violet would have given us another few minutes alone.”

  “I can fix it so you can live your whole lives alone,” Marty said. “Soon as we get my Caddy fixed, I can pretend she’s my third tree to hit head-on.”

  Jack chuckled.

  Cathy hadn’t realized he was in the garage. “Hello, Jack. I thought you’d be at work this time of night.”

  “Mamma was at the club meeting, and I had some time I had to take or lose. So I took tonight off to help Marty, but we aren’t going to have this fixed in time for the Jubilee.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Cathy exclaimed. “If you did, she’d wreck it again to keep Andy from touching the door handle.”

  “Ah, Andy ain’t that bad. He’s a fine boss,” Jack said.

  “But he’s a horrible friend and a worse husband,” Marty said.

  Chapter 6

  Picking out the wedding cake was supposed to be joyous, second only to the day she’d chosen her dress, but Cathy was a nervous wreck from morning until Clawdy’s closed. Getting in her car and nonstop driving until she hit the ocean was getting more and more appealing by the second. East or west, it didn’t matter.

  Her gorgeous white dress hung on the door of her closet. Violet wasn’t going to like it. Ethan was going to be appalled when she came down the aisle toward him. She touched the plastic bag protecting the frothy confection of tulle over white silk, off the shoulder, fitted to the waist with a sewn-in bra and bones hidden away in the seams, and a billowing skirt.

  She had a raging headache when she reached the Prescott house and Clayton opened the door. “Come in, Catherine. I would like a few words with you before you and Ethan, and of course Violet, go to Annabel’s to order the cake.”

  Every hair on her arms stood straight up. Her stomach knotted into a pretzel. It was prenup time and she hated the whole idea. For goodness sakes, this was Grayson County, Texas, not a big city. Sure Ethan would inherit an estate someday, but it wasn’t millions, and besides, she wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if she wasn’t serious about staying married. Two people were supposed to have enough love to carry them through the bad times.

  Clayton’s eyes were icy cold. His side glances as he walked beside her sent waves that chilled her skin even though the first chill of winter hadn’t hit yet. His touch would probably freeze her to death, so she kept her distance. No one else was in the office, and he sat in Ethan’s chair like he was judge, juror, and executioner. He motioned for her to sit in one of the two chairs facing the desk. “Sit down, please. I’ve drawn up a prenup according to what Violet and Ethan have requested. Basically it says that what you bring into the marriage is what you take out when you leave it, if you should. It also says that what Ethan brings he keeps. That means, in layman’s terms, that you will not be able to sue him for part of this estate or his present trust fund.”

  “I’ll take it home and read it,” she said.

  Clayton handed her a pen. “Reading it won’t change a thing, Catherine. It’s standard, so just sign it.”

  She looked down and her eyes came to rest on the words Miss Clawdy’s Café. “It says that I have to sell my part of the café or give it away.”

  “That’s part of the prenup. A politician’s wife or a professor’s wife or a Prescott does not work in a café,” Clayton said.

  “I’m not signing it right now. I want to read it.”

  Ethan, bless his heart, chose that moment to poke his head in the door. “All done? Let’s go to Annabel’s and look at cakes, sweetheart. Mother is already waiting in the car.”

  She picked up the papers and shoved them down in her purse with her e-reader and smiled at Ethan. “I’m ready.”

  Ethan laced his fingers in hers and they went out to the car where he opened the door for her. She had the whole backseat in the big white car to herself since, as always, Violet was up front in the passenger seat.

  The doorbell had barely stopped buzzing when Anna Ruth opened the door to her aunt’s house. “Hello. Come right on in. Aunt Annabel is in the dining room. We have coffee and cookies for you while you are looking at the wedding cake book.”

  “I’m so excited that I could be here to help pick out the cake,” Anna Ruth said.

  Cathy wondered how long she could live on what was in her savings account if she slept in her car and ate bologna sandwiches and generic chicken noodle soup.

  Annabel motioned for them to join her at the dining room table where refreshments awaited, along with the book. It was covered in white satin with little gold bells sewn to the ribbons that tied it shut. It looked as ominous as the one that St. Peter repor
tedly had on a pedestal right outside the pearly gates.

  “I’ve kept a picture of every wedding cake I’ve ever made. That way you can see my work,” Annabel said.

  Ethan pulled out a chair on Annabel’s right and Cathy slid into it.

  Surely it wouldn’t take long to flip through the book, pick out the style, and tell Annabel that she didn’t want any color on it. White wedding cake, white icing, and a few white sugar roses. The cake topper, a gorgeous crystal bride and groom she’d found in the spring, would sit in a bed of white rose buds and greenery that she’d have arranged at the florists.

  Violet wasn’t going to like it, no matter what she chose, but Marty was right. It was her wedding and her cake.

  Annabel pointed at the chair on her left. “You sit here, Ethan, so you can both see everything.”

  Violet stood behind Annabel. Anna Ruth put her hands on Ethan’s shoulders and leaned in for a better look when her aunt opened the book. Annabel stroked the first page with the loving fingers of a mother showing off pictures of her children.

  “I made this for Anna Ruth’s mother’s wedding. It was my very first.”

  Hmm. I wonder if Marty had a book like that with all the cowboys she’s slept with if she’d treat it like a national treasure.

  “And this is my second cake. Everyone thought I did such a beautiful job on the first one that I started getting orders. Look at the little rosebuds. I’d just learned to make them.”

  “They are just beautiful, Aunt Annabel. I swear you’ve always had the touch,” Anna Ruth said.

  By the time they reached page twenty, Cathy was ready to yank her hair by the roots and paint her bald head purple.

  “Annabel, they are all lovely, but we’d like a simple cake. White cake, white icing, only a few white sugar roses,” Cathy said.

  Annabel, a small slip of a woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a long face, wiped at a tear and shut the book, picked up a pen, and pursed her thin mouth. “Well, if you know what you want, I’ll start taking notes.”

  “I’m just not one for pillars and bright colors,” Cathy said.

  Violet threw up her hands. “Nonsense! The cake is important. It makes a statement, and Ethan’s wedding will do just that. A plain old white cake would just say that he was plain. We have to get the message out that he’s bold. After all, he will have just stepped into office. We have to think about the future of his career, Catherine. Now, Annabel, we want it to be like that big one you made last year for the Smith-Gilbert wedding. Remember, it was this tall.” Violet held her hand up beside her waist.

  Annabel perked right up and flipped the book to one of the back pages.

  It was the exact opposite of the elegant cake she had in mind, but the way Violet’s eyes were lighting up said she wasn’t backing down. It was just a cake, for God’s sake. It wasn’t a statement, and Cathy was too jittery to argue the point.

  Violet pointed but didn’t touch the book. “Like that one. Red velvet inside with white icing and lots of piping. Then we want bright blue flowers on it.”

  Annabel smiled brightly. “Oh! Morning glories? I’ve been dying to make a cake with morning glories. They are so pretty and I’ve never gotten to do them before. I’ll make them in life-sized sugar flowers and we’ll put the cake on a mirror so when it is cut it will reflect all the colors of the flag. If it’s agreeable to you, Violet, we will use your gorgeous red crystal vases on either side of the table with an arrangement of the same flowers. And maybe we can even find some good quality silk morning glories to use on the guests’ tables.”

  “Doesn’t she just have the best ideas ever?” Anna Ruth threw her arm around Ethan and hugged him in her happiness. “I can’t wait until she and I can start preparations for my wedding.”

  “I’m sure that Annabel will design everything beautifully,” Ethan said.

  The monstrosity in the book hurt Cathy’s eyes. She blinked, looked down at her feet, and spotted the e-reader. Right next to it was the prenup document. She couldn’t call off a wedding after she’d already bought the dress, could she? How had things gone so far astray? She was so excited to be engaged, and now she’d rather be in the Rib Joint with her e-reader or weeding her flower beds than ordering her wedding cake.

  “Well, I guess that covers it,” Violet said. “We really must be going since tomorrow is our press day.”

  All eyes were on Cathy.

  No one had listened to her about anything, so why should she say anything? Violet was a mother-in-law-zilla, but her time was fast coming to an end. When the wedding was over, Cathy and Ethan would only have to see her once a week, if that. Cathy would live through the wedding and the absurd wedding cake. Someday when her son was getting married, she’d use the experience as a guide in what not to do.

  Violet tapped her foot. “Well?”

  “Nothing I can think of,” Cathy said.

  Violet cocked her head to one side and looked at Annabel.

  Cathy’s eyebrows knit together and promised a raging headache. “Thank you so much, Annabel. I appreciate your doing this for us.”

  “I’m glad to get the business. You could have paid a bakery to do it for you, but I’m so glad that you chose me to have a little part in your wedding. It will be great for my business, and because you’ve been so kind, I’m going to give you a ten percent discount,” Annabel said.

  That was it! Cathy was supposed to pay the woman? The way Violet had talked, Cathy was under the impression that Annabel was making it as their gift. How stupid of her! She picked up her purse and took out her checkbook.

  “Thank you for the discount, but I’m glad to pay full price,” Cathy said.

  “Oh, honey, that is so sweet of you. Just having the business would be enough, but I’ll make sure I do an extra special job on it since you won’t even let me give you the discount,” Annabel said as she pushed a piece of paper toward Cathy. “Violet said five hundred people. This cake easily feeds three hundred, but I’ll have sheet cakes in the back if we run out.”

  Cathy blinked twice. A thousand dollars for a cake! And she was supposed to quit work, according to the prenup?

  She made out the check and put it in Annabel’s hand. “Once more, thank you.”

  “Well, we are definitely going now.” Violet ushered Ethan and Cathy out the door with Anna Ruth and Annabel right behind them.

  Cathy heard the chatter between them, but she couldn’t utter a single word. A thousand damn dollars for a cake that was going to look like shit!

  * * *

  Trixie hadn’t meant to get involved with the work in the garage when she’d wandered out to check on the Caddy’s progress. Ten minutes and a beer later, her head was under the hood with Jack’s and she was working as hard as Marty. Without a father around in her life, Trixie’s mother had made her learn to change tires and change oil before she was allowed to drive the family car. So a car engine wasn’t completely foreign to her, but she couldn’t tear one down and put it back together the way Marty or Jack could.

  Jack Landry had quit from the Army and come back home to Cadillac. An opening came up for a night shift at the police department and he applied. He had meant to stay with his mother just long enough to find his own place, but a month stretched into six, and a year stretched into two.

  The girls kept telling him that he should buy his own place, but now it had gotten complicated. Beulah was going to have a fit and make a big issue out of it after all this time.

  “You are awful quiet tonight.” Trixie poked Jack’s arm.

  “Got a lot on my mind.”

  “Finally thinkin’ about moving out of your mamma’s house?” Marty asked.

  “Maybe, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” he said. “What’s the newest scuttle on the wedding plans?”

  “Did Cathy tell you what Violet wants us to wear as bridesmaids in the wedd
ing?” Marty looked at Trixie and winked.

  “Something to do with red, white, and blue because she thinks that Ethan will be a couple of weeks away from taking oath in his new office. Wonder how she’ll feel when the wedding is all arranged and he don’t win that election. I can’t see him really winning, can you?” Trixie asked.

  Marty didn’t act any different. If she had really voted for Anna Ruth to get into the club like Andy said she did, there would have been a big difference, right?

  “Hell, no! He’s not going to win. I don’t even know why he’s all up into politics anyway,” Marty answered. “What about you, Jack?”

  “I don’t see it happening. I just hope it doesn’t disappoint Cathy,” he answered.

  “Did I hear my name again? I swear, every time I come home, y’all are gossiping about me,” Cathy said.

  “Did you pick out the cake?” Trixie asked.

  “I paid for a cake.” Cathy’s voice did not give off happy vibes.

  “I didn’t ask if you paid… what? I thought Annabel was making it for a present.” Trixie frowned.

  “Annabel would charge Jesus for a cup of water,” Jack said.

  “You got that right, Jack, and she’d make him pay double,” Trixie said.

  “She does make pretty sugar flowers but…” Cathy let the sentence dangle.

  “But what?” Marty asked.

  “Can you imagine a red velvet cake with big, blue, life-sized morning glories all over it?” Cathy moaned.

  Trixie slapped a hand over her mouth to keep the giggles back.

  It didn’t work.

  Marty guffawed and held her ribs. “Stop thinking, Trixie. I can see your thoughts. At least she didn’t want you to have fake jalapeños all over the thing. I bet she does figure out a way to put at least a few peppers somewhere in the decorations.”

  Jack chuckled. “Sounds more appropriate than morning glories to me. At least they’re hot!”

  “Well, hot damn!” Trixie giggled harder.