Lanita nodded.
“How did you get here?”
“I drove my car.”
Agnes reached over to the end table and picked up her phone. Darla Jean answered on the third ring.
“I got another abuse case over here in my house and we only got a little while to take care of it. And her husband ain’t a sack of shit. This is a real hard case. What do we do?”
“I’ll be right there. Don’t let her leave.”
Darla Jean jerked on a pair of jeans, a shirt, and Nikes. Betty had an empty bedroom left in her house, so yes, there was room for a woman in need.
Agnes had the door open before she had time to ring the doorbell. “I don’t know about this one, but we got to help her.”
Darla Jean sat down on the sofa. “Tell me what happened.”
Lanita poured out the whole story.
“Where are you from? I hear a southern accent.”
“Louisiana. Down in the Cajun country. I met Jim when he was just about to retire out of the service.”
“Where is your car?”
“I parked it two blocks down in front of one of those old empty buildings. I didn’t want anyone to see it in front of Agnes’s house.”
“Go get in it and go home. Don’t do a thing out of the normal on the way. How far from a store or church parking lot do you live?”
“It’s six blocks to the parking lot at a doctor’s office. I can give you his address.”
“Walk out of the house with nothing but what you are wearing. Don’t take money, credit cards, your purse, or even jewelry. Dress like you would if you were going for a Saturday morning walk and I’ll be parked at that parking lot. We’ll go to my sister’s place for a few weeks. You will be our cousin who’s come from Louisiana for a visit. Your name is Nita Jean until you decide who you want to be and where you want to go.”
“Thank you.” Lanita reached over and touched Darla Jean’s hand. “You are an angel.”
“Hmph! I damn sure wouldn’t call her that,” Agnes said.
* * *
It taxed Agnes’s ability to keep her mouth shut and her fists to herself the next morning in church when Jim showed up and sat on the pew down from her. When the preacher stood up and asked everyone to pray for Jim because his wife had gone missing, perhaps kidnapped, she had to bite her tongue to keep from shouting out to the whole congregation the real story.
Violet reached him first after services and gave him a hug. The line behind her was long, but Agnes didn’t join them. She shook the preacher’s hand and was almost to her car when Jim yelled her name.
“I’ve hired a private detective and I had a tracker on her car. She came to Cadillac yesterday morning. Did you see her?” Jim talked as he walked toward her.
Agnes turned around and looked him right in the eye. “Yes, she did. I heard the preacher talkin’ about it and hurried out here to get my cell phone and call the police. She came by my house because I asked her to drop in sometime to talk about the ladies’ auxiliary. We do all kinds of work like get the Bible school things ordered and have bake sales to pay for it.”
“Did she seem anxious or upset?”
“No, she did mention a headache. Said she’d taken a nasty tumble down the stairs in your house. Reckon she got amnesia and wandered off somewhere? She said she might take your boat out to the lake because that relaxed her. Did you check to see if it’s missing? Maybe she’s run out of gas and just floating around. Should I go on and call them or will you?”
“I’ll take care of it and thank you.” Jim had his phone out and was talking as he walked away.
* * *
Cathy was helping in the kitchen when Agnes popped in the next morning. It was a slow Monday, but the middle of the month often was.
“I hope there’s chocolate in heaven,” Agnes said.
“What makes you think an old renegade like you will ever go to heaven?” Trixie asked.
Agnes pointed at Trixie. “I got something to say and it ain’t got a thing to do with you because I wouldn’t leave you a dime of my money.”
“Can I stay or should I go to my room and cut out paper dolls?” Trixie teased.
“You can stay but mostly I want Cathy and Marty and Darla Jean to hear this.”
Trixie threw a hand over her heart. “I’m hurt.”
“Don’t give me that shit. This don’t have anything to do with you so stir that pot of beans and hush. Now here’s the deal. I was going to leave my entire estate to you, Cathy. I’m going to change my will and use the money to help Darla Jean run her abused women thing.” She went on to tell them the whole story of Lanita and what had happened at church.
Cathy hugged Agnes. “I think that is a wonderful idea. It might help keep some women alive.”
“Good, now let’s talk about this gawd-forsaken wedding about to come off. I’m thinkin’ about moving my membership over to your church after the wedding. I’m looking for a sign from God as to whether I should or shouldn’t. But this wedding is what I want to talk about. Y’all are all going with me and you’re going to sit beside me on my pew.”
“Not me,” Trixie said. “That would just be too weird. And besides, you don’t even like me.”
“Not me!” Cathy shook her head. “That’s the day I was going to marry Ethan. I don’t care if I do get an invitation that says plus guest; I’d rather stay home and clean the trailer house with plus guest as go to that wedding,” Cathy said.
“Hell if I’ll go to that damned thing. I went to his first wedding. That was enough,” Marty declared.
Agnes sat back and smiled at the argument she’d started.
Darla Jean laid her hand on Agnes’s arm and whispered, “God bless you, Agnes. Betty and I could do this on our own, but we appreciate your help.”
For the first time in her life, Trixie saw Agnes blush. The old girl wasn’t nearly as tough as she’d like everyone to think.
Chapter 24
Agnes was sitting on her porch enjoying a rare sunny day in the middle of November. She’d put on her jacket and fuzzy house shoes and carried a cup of steaming hot chocolate outside with her.
“Well, shit!” she mumbled when Beulah Landry headed across the street. She’d heard all she wanted to hear about that damned wedding. She didn’t care if Andy and Anna Ruth blended sand from each of their little glasses together and poured it into a crystal bowl signifying that forever they would be one. Or if the unity candle was engraved with pictures of angels. She didn’t even care if the dress was the fanciest thing since the last royal wedding over in England. If Trixie couldn’t make him walk the chalk line, Anna Ruth didn’t have a chance in hell.
Beulah sat down in the rocker beside Agnes. “Beautiful day, ain’t it? Don’t reckon we’ll get many more of these. It’ll get blustery and cold pretty soon.”
“Want some hot chocolate?”
“Oh, no, I can’t stay long. Violet just called me. One of the club ladies was down at the Dairy Queen having a hot fudge sundae and she saw Marty and a man get out of an old Chevy car. One of those like Bert had in the fifties. Guess her man kissed her right there in public. Don’t reckon that’s the way a woman her age ought to be behavin’. I swear, I hope Jack don’t start doin’ crazy things now that he’s in his own house.”
“He’s past thirty. He’s old enough to sleep in whatever the hell bed he makes up, but don’t be holdin’ your breath, Beulah, that he’s never going to take a woman in his house. Or that someone won’t see it when he does.”
Beulah shivered. “There’ll be gossip.”
“Yep, just like right now. Have you seen that man that Marty was kissin’ on?” Agnes asked.
Beulah shook her head.
Agnes blew into her cup of chocolate to cool it. “Well, when you do, grab hold of your under-britches and hang on real tight ’cause they’re g
oing to start to crawlin’ down. Hell, I keep mine up with suspenders when he’s around.”
Beulah gasped. “Lord, Agnes, I swear you get worse with every passing year.”
“Gettin’ old ain’t for wimps, Beulah. Only the strong and the mouthy get to do it. You been feelin’ good lately? You look a little poorly to me.”
“I’m just fine. I’ve got soup on the stove. I just thought you ought to know what was going on.”
Agnes waited until Beulah was in her house before she went over to Clawdy’s through the back door.
“Marty, what the hell are you doing kissin’ on some man at the Dairy Queen?” Agnes huffed.
“Who said I was kissing a man at the Dairy Queen?” Marty asked.
“That would be me, not Marty. I saw Beulah coming over to your house.” Cathy laughed. “John and I were at the Dairy Queen last night and he bent me over just like in the movies and told me that he loved me. First time he’s said those words and he said them right out in public. It was wonderful, Aunt Agnes.”
“Well, shit! I let on like I knew the man and he was so sexy he gave me hot flashes. He’d damn sure better be that good lookin’ when you introduce him to me, girl.”
“Oh, he is,” Cathy said.
* * *
That Sunday afternoon John was on a roll with his new book so Cathy played with Maggie and reread one of her sister’s first novels.
She finished the book and looked out the window. The sun was bright and beckoned her to come outside. She looked over at Maggie Rose and whispered, “Want to go for a walk?”
The dog didn’t even wag her tail. She just shut her eyes and ignored Cathy.
“Have a good nap then.” Cathy reached for her jacket and shoes. She had barely stepped off the porch when she heard a car out in front of the restaurant. The engine stopped and a door slammed.
She hoped whoever it was hadn’t come from far away only to find the restaurant closed, but she was glad that John wasn’t open on Sunday. Folks needed one day in the week just to play catch-up with the rest of their lives. She listened for the car’s engine to start up again, and when it didn’t, she walked out across the yard and around the end of the joint.
“Well, dammit all to hell!” she said and instantly felt guilty for cussing on Sunday, especially when she hadn’t gone to church that morning. Anna Ruth was sitting on the porch, her arms wrapped around her body trying to stay warm. If she’d come back to return the dress, she was shit out of luck. Cathy had already deposited the money and she wasn’t the Walmart store where satisfaction was guaranteed and you could bring anything back with no questions asked.
“There you are,” Anna Ruth said. “I saw your car and decided to wait here on the porch for you. Where have you been?”
“John lives behind the restaurant,” Cathy said.
Anna Ruth stood up slowly. She wore jeans, a jacket, and a purple hickey right below her left ear. “It’s cold out here. Warm one day, cold the next. I wish it would make up its mind what it wants to do. But I really, really want it to be nice for my wedding so I shouldn’t complain. Let’s go back to your place.” She came to a stop so fast that her hair flopped around to her back. “My God! Cathy, you gave up the Prescott Plantation for a trailer house?”
“Happiness can be found in a grass hut as well as a mansion,” Cathy said. “What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
“No, I’m not. John is working. He’s a mystery author, and he’s having a good day so we aren’t having company. We can go through the back door of the restaurant and sit in there or we can sit on the porch in front.”
Anna Ruth did not hesitate for a nanosecond. “Inside, then. This north wind is cold. I hope Andy has booked a honeymoon somewhere warm, like one of the islands.”
Anna Ruth was like an unlucky penny. She just kept showing up at the weirdest times.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Cathy asked.
“I’d love a sweet tea.”
“Don’t have any of that made up. We’ve got beer and soft drinks.”
“Pepsi, then.” Anna Ruth sat down at the nearest table and waited.
Cathy drew up two large Pepsis and carried them to the table. “You never did say why you came out here. I’ve never seen you eating in this place, and how did you know I’d be here?”
“I don’t eat food without a fork and I don’t like the taste of barbecue. And it’s all over town that you are practically living with the cook out here. Sometimes I wonder about you, Cathy. You had everything at your fingertips and were too stubborn to sign the prenup. Now look at you. It’s a shame.”
“You came out here to lecture me?” Cathy sipped her Pepsi. It wasn’t nearly as good as the beer she’d left sitting on the porch.
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just that you disappoint me so bad sometimes that I don’t even know what I’m saying. I sure didn’t come out here to upset you or hurt your feelings. I came to ask you about that wedding cake you ordered. Aunt Annabel will have to start making the morning glories tomorrow morning. She always allows two weeks for a big cake like that.”
“Okay. She is aware that it goes to the Christian church that Saturday, right?”
Anna Ruth’s chin quivered. “I’ve been mean to you. Telling you to get out of the club and all, and now I’m here to beg. I wouldn’t blame you if you said no.”
“What are you talking about?” Cathy asked.
“Here.” Anna Ruth handed Cathy a folded check. “Aunt Annabel never puts the check for a cake in the bank until the day of the wedding. You can have it back if you won’t make her do your cake. She needs the full two weeks to make mine, and she can’t do two in that time.”
Cathy opened the check. Sure enough, it was the very one she’d written to Annabel. Marty was wrong! She had managed to sell her cake. Well, in a sense anyway. At least she’d gotten her money back. Aunt Agnes might be disappointed because she had visions of filling her freezer with the ugly thing and serving slabs of it at her Sunday school meetings.
Anna Ruth dabbed at a tear with a paper napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table. “Will you please tear up that check so Aunt Annabel doesn’t have to make your cake? You don’t need it and she needs all the time to get mine done.”
“Sure.” Cathy tucked the folded check in her pocket.
Anna Ruth clapped her hands. “Oh! I was so afraid you’d say no. My cake is going to have life-sized red sugar roses trailing up from the bottom all the way to the top where we’ll have a gorgeous topper. The whole thing will be over four feet tall.”
“Want to buy a topper? I’ve got a crystal one for sale that I ordered from New York,” Cathy asked.
“What does it look like? Did Ethan or Violet see it?”
Cathy shook her head. “No, they didn’t. It’s cut glass crystal, eight inches tall. It’s on the Internet at Tiffany’s if you want to see it.”
She’d offered it as a joke. She sure hadn’t thought about unloading that expensive chunk of glass. But Anna Ruth’s expression said she was very interested.
“And I bought the matching mold for a miniature ice sculpture that I thought would be pretty rising up out of the punch bowl. You’d have to set it on a square cube at least six inches tall to get the effect,” Cathy said.
She should feel strange selling off her dress, her cake, and her topper, but all she could see was the look on Marty’s face when she told her that she’d gotten her money back for the whole shittin’ shebang.
Anna Ruth nodded. “Can we go see it now? It sounds beautiful.”
“Sure. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. I’ll have to get my purse.”
“Oh, Cathy, you are such a good friend. We are like sisters, aren’t we? We have our fights, but we always make up,” Anna Ruth gushed.
The girl was nuts,
but there wasn’t a cure for her brand of nuts. To be cured, a person had to realize they had a problem. If Anna Ruth did that, she wouldn’t be planning a wedding with Andy Johnson anyway.
Without commenting on the bit about sisters, Cathy hurried out the back door with Anna Ruth on her heels, going on and on about how wonderful things were going and it had to be fate, and how happy she and Andy were going to be on the other side of Grayson County.
Thank goodness she parted ways with Cathy a few feet from the café and trotted around to the parking lot. Anna Ruth was waiting by the back door when she pulled into the driveway at Clawdy’s and waved as she got out of her car.
Marty was in the garage with Jack. Her frown when she saw Anna Ruth dropped the temperature another ten degrees. She headed right for the house with a big wrench in her hand.
“What is going on here?” Marty asked.
“I sold her my cake,” Cathy said quickly.
“You going to sell her your honeymoon too?” Marty asked.
“Oh! Do you have tickets to somewhere wonderful?” Anna Ruth asked.
Marty laughed even harder.
“I do not! Lord Almighty, Marty! That’s not even funny!” Cathy said. “I’m going upstairs to get the cake topper for her.”
“You really sold that hideous red cake with morning glories on it?” Marty asked. “And you really bought it?”
Anna Ruth slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no! I just gave her check back so Aunt Annabel could have the time to make my cake. Mine is Hawaiian wedding cake and pure white on the outside with red roses. I could never do morning glories. Violet would just die.”
“Who’s killing Violet?” Agnes pushed into the kitchen. “God, this weather is going to be the death of me. Turnin’ off colder than a witch’s tit out there. You killed Violet, Anna Ruth? How’d you do it? If you didn’t drive a stake through her heart, she’ll come back alive.”
Cathy rolled her eyes. “She’s buying my cake and my topper. Give me a minute to go get it and she’ll be gone and Violet is alive.”
The Sisters Café Page 27
