The Sisters Café

by Carolyn Brown

  Excitement was in the air. Everyone parked their lawn chairs in front of their houses or had copped a spot on front porches to watch the parade that morning. The fire siren sounded the message that it was beginning and conversation dropped to a low buzz as the first car in the procession made its appearance on the east end of town.

  The weather cooperated—sunshine, no clouds, and sixty-five degrees. Absolutely perfect. Cathy, Agnes, Marty, Darla Jean, and then Trixie were all lined up in lawn chairs that Marty had dragged from the garage. They were sitting right on the edge of the sidewalk that ran in front of Clawdy’s. Kids darted out to grab candy that Ethan threw from the sunroof of the long white Cadillac limo as the car made its way ever so slowly down the three blocks of Main Street.

  “It’s a good thing them kids can’t vote next week or that man would be in office slicker’n scoopin’ scum off a swamp,” Agnes said when the limo passed the café. “Guess he’s still mad at you, Cathy. He’s throwing his candy on the other side of the road. Too bad.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. “If I don’t get a lollipop, I don’t vote for you, Ethan.”

  He didn’t even look her way.

  She poked Cathy on the arm. “Damn, I’m glad you got out of that mess. You could have spent the morning riding in that car with that old witch.”

  “Aunt Agnes, we have to be nice!” Cathy said.

  “You be nice. I’ll wait until I’m dead to be nice.” Agnes caught Violet staring from the back window of the limo and stuck out her tongue.

  The Cadillac High School marching band stopped smack dab in front of Clawdy’s and put on their famous halftime show. Flags spun around in a blur; batons twirled and flipped in the air as the band played the national anthem and then the Caddy High fight song.

  People all along the street stood up and placed hands over hearts as the band played the first song and then yelled, whistled, and clapped as they played the school song. The fire truck was the next item in the parade, with firemen tossing even more candy and then twenty horses prancing along with cowboys from six years old to ninety-six riding them.

  “Look at that Milford Jones. Still sits a horse mighty fine, even if he is way up over ninety years old, doesn’t he?” Agnes said.

  “Are you coveting your neighbor’s husband? I do believe that is a sin,” Darla Jean said.

  “No, I’m not coveting Milford Jones, so don’t you go preachin’ me a sermon.”

  “I save the preachin’ for Sunday, Agnes, but you are welcome to sit on one of my pews anytime you want to come to my church,” Darla Jean whispered.

  Cathy was struck speechless when she saw Anna Ruth and three other members of the club popping up an eight-foot table right behind them. Surely the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society wouldn’t be so rude as to put up a bake sale table right in front of Miss Clawdy’s Café.

  Agnes heard the noise and turned around. “What the hell?”

  “Hello, ladies. Go ahead and watch the parade. We are getting set up for our bake sale. We’re selling chips with your choice of picante, salsa, or jalapeño cheese dip. And Annabel made her famous jalapeño banana muffins for the folks who’ve tasted them over at the community room and want more. And there’s lots more. We have ham and cheese sandwiches with your choice of plain cheese or pepper cheese. We fully well intend to get the prize for having the best booth at the jubilee. Don’t mind us. We’ll be real quiet.” Anna Ruth put a finger over her lips and said, “Shh.”

  Agnes sat down and watched the antique cars parading past. “Cathy, would you look at that one? I remember when my daddy bought one like that. It was our first automobile. Mamma said he parked it under the shade tree out to the side of the yard and when he came back, the old red rooster was sittin’ on the top of the hood crowing like it was his car. Daddy picked up a hammer lyin’ on the worktable attached to the tree and threw it at the rooster. Hammer went right through the window. I miss seeing the queen candidates riding down the street. It was that damn Violet’s fault that it all had to stop. She was too old to be a candidate and was jealous over those crowns.”

  Trixie leaned over toward Marty. “Now what?”

  “I have no idea. We paid for that big ad in the newspaper this week saying we’ll have an open buffet until six o’clock. Now the people will stop at their table and grab and run rather than coming inside and sitting down. Betcha we are going to have a hell of a lot of leftover food,” Marty whispered.

  Agnes pointed out a 1958 Chevrolet truck all tricked out with shiny paint and chrome running boards. “Reckon they’d sell that to me?”

  “Aunt Agnes, I told you to be nice, but you’re acting like you don’t even know what we’re talking about when it was your idea to advertise and to serve both lunch and dinner,” Cathy said.

  “Always remember the story of the hammer. Now look at that car, would you? It’s an old Studebaker. I wanted one of those, but Bert wouldn’t let me have it. I remember when a queen candidate rode on the hood of one. Let’s see… that would have been the last time they had a queen. Damn Violet’s meddling ways anyway!”

  Nothing made a lick of sense. Agnes was always ready to go to war with the whole Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society. They had just deliberately snubbed Clawdy’s and she was interested in old cars and past queens? Something was definitely wrong with the picture.

  Little kids on their brightly decorated bicycles rode down Main Street after the antique cars, with Andy bringing up the rear right behind them in the newest police car in town. A poster was affixed to the passenger’s door with black glittery words: Last Year’s Celebrity of the Year, Andrew Johnson.

  “Great parade,” Agnes said. “Best we’ve had in years. Only way it would’ve been better was if we’d had queen candidates riding on them old cars.”

  “Are you all right? Do I need to lay hands on you and pray for you?” Darla Jean asked.

  “You touch me and I’ll break your fingers,” Agnes said.

  “Aunt Agnes! You said you’d be nice,” Cathy whispered.

  “Nice don’t mean I have to let this woman start chanting over me,” Agnes snapped and trotted across the street, her bright red sneakers smacking the hot pavement.

  “Cathy, you are going to help, aren’t you?” Anna Ruth yelled.

  “I resigned.”

  “But you are still on the roll. You still have responsibilities.”

  Cathy folded her chair and handed it to Marty. She crossed the yard in half a dozen long strides. “This is downright mean, setting up in front of our shop. You were in charge of vendors. You could have put someone selling crafts or purses in this spot.”

  Anna Ruth smiled sweetly. “I could have, but I didn’t. Isn’t our booth beautiful?” She waved a hand over a whole table full of food. “And what do you think of the prices?”

  The poster board Anna Ruth had pasted to the front of the table matched the one on Andy’s car, leaving no doubt about who’d glittered and glued the thing the night before. Was that why Anna Ruth was so interested in scrapbooking? The prices were ridiculously low. There was no way Clawdy’s was going to make a profit that day.

  Anna Ruth chirped on like an excited canary. “I suppose we could have gotten more, but we just want to make a hundred dollars today. Aunt Annabel and I worked all day yesterday, and Violet came over to help us make the sign with all the pretty peppers on it. And she helped make the icing for the muffins too. Don’t you just love the way we did the signs in glitter to match our club pins and last year’s Jubilee celebrity?”

  Cathy clenched her fists. “I’m not helping. No matter what Violet says, I’m not a part of the club anymore, and I’ve got a café to run.”

  “Good luck with that,” Anna Ruth said coldly.

  The limo crawled to a stop in front of the shop, and the driver, all dressed up in a black tuxedo, held the door for Violet. That day she wore navy dress slacks with a
matching blazer over a red and white striped blouse. Her signature flag pin glittered on her lapel, and her makeup did a fine job of covering up the last of the bruising around her eyes.

  “I’m making a stop at all the vendors to be sure all is going good. How are you, Catherine? I’m glad to see you helping. I knew you wouldn’t really resign.”

  “Oh, but she did.” Agnes trotted right across the street and headed toward the table of goodies.

  Violet held her tiny little red purse up in front of her. “Agnes Flynn, you stay away from me. I will call Andy to put you in jail if you start anything.”

  “I promised Cathy I’d be nice so I’m buying chips and picante from y’all. I went to get my money to pay for it,” Agnes said.

  Violet lowered the purse and took two steps backward.

  “How much you plannin’ on makin’ if you sell everything on the stand today?” Agnes asked.

  Anna Ruth beamed. “Our goal is a hundred dollars, but the money isn’t as important as getting the award to go in the sunroom with the blue ribbons. My first year in the club and my very first award. I’m just so excited I could cry.”

  The Andrews house sat on a slight rise, just enough to tilt the long table forward an inch or two. Two little boys were in front of it with Agnes. One pointed at a paper saucer with a muffin on it then drew his finger back and pointed at a plate with chips and picante.

  “Which one?” Anna Ruth asked.

  “He’ll have both.” Agnes turned her head to the other child. “What do you want, honey?”

  He looked at his mother who nodded and chose a muffin. Their mothers yelled their thanks to Agnes who waved them off with a flick of the wrist.

  “That will be two dollars,” Anna Ruth said.

  Agnes moved around to the back of the table, fished a bill from her purse, and handed it to Anna Ruth. Then she grabbed the edge of the table and with a shove sent the whole thing flying out across the yard and into the street. The wind stuck the glittery sign to the front windshield of Violet’s limo. A jalapeño banana muffin with thick cream cheese frosting flew through the air and smashed with great force against Violet’s flag pin. A Styrofoam bowl of salsa wound up in Anna Ruth’s blond hair. And the whole place looked like a major crime scene by the time the red picante, cream-cheese-covered muffins, and everything on the table had mixed together in the air and come crashing down on the sidewalk and street.

  “What have you done?” Violet screamed.

  “Guess I’m clumsy. Got it from my daddy. He aimed for a damned old rooster one time and knocked out the windshield of his new car. I was reaching for some picante and lost my balance. Guess you better keep that whole hundred dollar bill I just gave you, Anna Ruth. I wouldn’t want it said I didn’t pay up when I make a mess.”

  “You did that on purpose so we wouldn’t win the award for the best booth.” Violet brushed the cream cheese icing from her jacket and then wiped it on the butt of her slacks before she thought. “Now look what you made me do!”

  “You might want to call the cleaning crew to come take care of this before the fire ants find it. They go to stinging the kids and their mammas are all going to get pissed at you, Violet, since you’re in charge of the whole Jubilee. Or worse yet, the kids will start using those pepper poppers like footballs to kick up and down the street and food will wind up on all those antique cars. I don’t know if hot peppers can ruin the paint or not, but I wouldn’t take no chances. You’re lucky I’m clumsy. Violet’s muffins would probably taste like shit anyway. She never did learn how to cook.”

  It started as a snicker, turned into a giggle, and then was a full-fledged roar that Cathy could not control. If Agnes had planned what would hit Anna Ruth and Violet, she couldn’t have done a better job.

  Trixie stepped out on the front porch seconds before food peppered through the air like bullets from a machine gun. Her laughter brought Darla Jean and Marty on the run and just in time to hear more of the argument.

  “You are evil and vile,” Violet hissed.

  “And you look like shit,” Agnes said. “Go on home and put on that red, white, and blue dress you wore to church. It looks like a circus tent so it will go right along with this jubilee.”

  “What are they fighting over now? Oh my God!” Marty saw the upturned table and the mess. “Please don’t tell me there is a dead body in all that mess.”

  Trixie wiped her eyes, smearing mascara everywhere. “Agnes did it. God, I hope I grow up to be just like her.”

  Violet took a step toward Agnes.

  Agnes bowed right up to her. “You don’t really want to do this, do you?”

  “Why don’t you lie down and die?” Violet asked.

  “You first. I got to see where you go before I die. I’d go to hell before I’d go to heaven with you. Now get on out of here and make yourself presentable. In about ten minutes, that boy of yours is getting on his stump to promise the citizens of Cadillac a better life. I don’t reckon you want to miss it. Just lick the icing off your fancy bitch pin and go on now.” Agnes laced her arm in Cathy’s and marched her up the driveway to the back door.

  “I reckon that will pay for part of the food I’ve eaten the past two years,” she said when they reached the back porch.

  “Your bill is paid in full, Aunt Agnes!” Cathy hugged her tightly.

  * * *

  At noon, Jack arrived to buy takeout lunches for the break room at the police station.

  “Heard that Agnes tipped the club table out into the street and then paid for everything on it,” he whispered to Trixie.

  Trixie nodded. “Agnes is my new hero.”

  “What happened?”

  Trixie told him between giggles.

  “I may not go home tonight. Mamma is going to fret about all that something horrible.”

  “Is your new furniture at your house now?”

  He nodded. “But I haven’t formally moved out of Mamma’s place.”

  “So stay at your new place tonight, and it’ll make the permanent move less traumatic for her. Call and say that you are planning to be out very late and you’re not coming home.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Think of what?” Marty asked.

  “Jack is going to stay in his new house tonight because Beulah is going to be in a tiff over what Agnes just did.”

  “I wouldn’t go home either,” Marty said. “And it will ease the way for the real move.”

  “We could bring Agnes and help you finish moving tomorrow evening. Beulah sure wouldn’t cry in front of her,” Trixie said.

  “If things get too sappy, I just might take you up on that.” Jack grinned.

  The rest of the day went fast. When it was time to close the shop, the kitchen was a complete mess, there was no food left in the pots, and the grill looked worse than it ever had. Trixie would throw up her hands and quit if Marty said they had to start serving dinner and supper every day. The buffet was wiped out at six o’clock and all the desserts were gone except one slice of black forest cake. Trixie boxed up it up and laid a card on the top that she’d made weeks before to give to Molly. She’d put it aside and never taken it to scrapbooking, but she could always make another one for Molly and the sentiment fit perfectly: You are one in a million!

  She quickly glued a big yellow silk sunflower to the top of the box and added a long green paper stem and a couple of leaves. Then she trotted across the street and rang Agnes’s doorbell.

  “What do you want?” Agnes grouched when she opened the door.

  “Special delivery for the old fart who should’ve been the celebrity this year.” Trixie handed it to her and hurried back across the street before Agnes could say a word.

  The bathroom was steamed up. That meant Marty and Cathy had already had showers and Trixie could take as long as she wanted, and she did. When she finish
ed, she flung open her closet doors and was pondering over which jeans to wear to the street dance when Marty knocked and stuck her head inside the room.

  “Got a minute?” she asked.

  “Got as many as you need. Next Chamber meeting, I’m going to see to it they’ll change the Jubilee to the first week in October so it won’t be so close to the Craft Fair. Or maybe we could combine the two,” Trixie said.

  “Won’t happen. Not as long as Violet and the old dogs are in control. You don’t buck tradition in Cadillac. You know that, Trixie.”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  Trixie sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. “Sit down and spit it out. Never known you to beat around the bush. You sure you’re Marty or did you and Cathy trade places?”

  “I’m mad as hell at you. Almost to the point of throwing you out of this house,” Marty said.

  “Good Lord, what did I do?”

  “You’ve been seeing Andy and sleeping with him. God, girl, don’t you remember how bad he hurt you? And you had the audacity to get mad at me over that damn vote that I had to do or else Mamma would come haunt me.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I found out.”

  “I’ve got a question for you before you throw me out. Why didn’t you tell me he was cheating on me even before Anna Ruth?”

  “I didn’t know, Trixie. I knew he was a skirt chaser in high school and that he flirted, but it wouldn’t have surprised me to find out he was still up to his old games. But I didn’t know for sure and I wasn’t going to hurt you with gossip. I would have told you, I promise,” Marty said.