Katherine claps her hands. “Yay! You’ll be so impressed with all of the work Jordan construction is doing. Why, we’re one of the oldest family-based companies in Eufaula. MeeMaw’s father started it, back in the day.” She pauses to give Shug a loving look.
The we’re strikes me as oddly territorial, yet no one has corrected her. I can’t resist asking, “What about you, Mary Katherine, how are you involved in Jordan Construction?”
Her eyes fly open wide, then flicker in embarrassment. “Well, no. Actually I’m not. I’m in commercial banking. In my spare time, I do some modeling, some pageant coaching—”
TJ coughs and pushes back from the table. “C’mon Shug, let’s see who’s playing.”
I immediately stand and start stacking dishes as Shug and his father exit the room. As I grab for the empty platters, PD touches my arm. “You don’t have to help clean up.”
“I insist.” The dishes clank together noisily as I balance a few glasses on a plate.
The kitchen door swings shut after PD. MeeMaw appears to be dozing. As I bend to collect her plate, the glint from her ring blinds me. I have to blink and turn my head.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mary Katherine muses, almost talking to herself as she gazes at the huge diamond. “I’ll have this one or one like it soon.”
The dishes almost slip from my hands. I glance around, wishing Shug or anyone else in the family would come around the corner and hear what she’s saying. MeeMaw’s eyelashes flutter the slightest bit as I pick up another plate, concentrating on not breaking dishes.
Mary Katherine gives me a coy smile. “They love me. And I adore them of course.” I watch as she gazes around the room like she owns it. “Isn’t it a great house for entertaining?”
She doesn’t wait for my response.
“PD’s the celebrity chef in the family. You’ll have to try some of her desserts,” she confides. “Silly old Shug won’t let me near the kitchen. He doesn’t trust me. Last summer, I turned on the gas stove and forgot all about it.”
I swallow hard as Mary Katherine titters and continues her story.
“He came in, sniffed the air, switched off the gas, and yanked me outside. You should have seen him.” She spreads her arms wide, “Five seconds longer, and Whoosh! The whole place could have blown up!”
“Wow,” I cringe, imagining the house exploding into smithereens.
“Close call, right,” she bites her lip and shrugs. “I’m so much more careful now. I have to be.” Mary Katherine lowers her voice to a hush. “This is all going to be mine soon.” Her words are concrete, like the mold’s already been cast, the tiny pieces left over smoothed and sanded away. Her blue eyes are granite, determined. “Mine and Shug’s. Someday. Very soon.”
Chapter 12
The next morning, Marietta calls before I’m out of bed. I rub my eyes with both fists, trying to wake up.
“So, spill it. What’s it like?” she asks. I can see her twirling a piece of hair, feet propped up, laptop open. “Do you love it? Is it like Sweet Home Alabama —or more Deliverance ?”
She is joking, of course. “The city’s lovely, there are some gorgeous homes,” I confide. “Now, I have met a few characters.” I describe Elma and Stump at the Citgo station and can’t help but giggle out loud.
The sound rings across the room and I cover my mouth. Other people could be trying to sleep. Or enjoy the quiet. For that matter, I don’t know if Roger is in the next room. And he doesn’t need more to gossip about.
In the background, someone yells for Marietta and she muffles the phone. “That’s David, for the second time,” she finally whispers. “You didn’t tell me he’s such a slave driver.”
I wince and want to shrink into my skin. Workaholics are like that . “Sorry, I should have mentioned it. I guess they misplaced the perfectionism gene when they got around to me. I was handed the can’t-pay-attention unless the room is
The we’re strikes me as oddly territorial, yet no one has corrected her. I can’t resist asking, “What about you, Mary Katherine, how are you involved in Jordan Construction?”
Her eyes fly open wide, then flicker in embarrassment. “Well, no. Actually I’m not. I’m in commercial banking. In my spare time, I do some modeling, some pageant coaching—”
TJ coughs and pushes back from the table. “C’mon Shug, let’s see who’s playing.”
I immediately stand and start stacking dishes as Shug and his father exit the room. As I grab for the empty platters, PD touches my arm. “You don’t have to help clean up.”
“I insist.” The dishes clank together noisily as I balance a few glasses on a plate.
The kitchen door swings shut after PD. MeeMaw appears to be dozing. As I bend to collect her plate, the glint from her ring blinds me. I have to blink and turn my head.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mary Katherine muses, almost talking to herself as she gazes at the huge diamond. “I’ll have this one or one like it soon.”
The dishes almost slip from my hands. I glance around, wishing Shug or anyone else in the family would come around the corner and hear what she’s saying. MeeMaw’s eyelashes flutter the slightest bit as I pick up another plate, concentrating on not breaking dishes.
Mary Katherine gives me a coy smile. “They love me. And I adore them of course.” I watch as she gazes around the room like she owns it. “Isn’t it a great house for entertaining?”
She doesn’t wait for my response.
“PD’s the celebrity chef in the family. You’ll have to try some of her desserts,” she confides. “Silly old Shug won’t let me near the kitchen. He doesn’t trust me. Last summer, I turned on the gas stove and forgot all about it.”
I swallow hard as Mary Katherine titters and continues her story.
“He came in, sniffed the air, switched off the gas, and yanked me outside. You should have seen him.” She spreads her arms wide, “Five seconds longer, and Whoosh! The whole place could have blown up!”
“Wow,” I cringe, imagining the house exploding into smithereens.
“Close call, right,” she bites her lip and shrugs. “I’m so much more careful now. I have to be.” Mary Katherine lowers her voice to a hush. “This is all going to be mine soon.” Her words are concrete, like the mold’s already been cast, the tiny pieces left over smoothed and sanded away. Her blue eyes are granite, determined. “Mine and Shug’s. Someday. Very soon.”
Chapter 12
The next morning, Marietta calls before I’m out of bed. I rub my eyes with both fists, trying to wake up.
“So, spill it. What’s it like?” she asks. I can see her twirling a piece of hair, feet propped up, laptop open. “Do you love it? Is it like Sweet Home Alabama —or more Deliverance ?”
She is joking, of course. “The city’s lovely, there are some gorgeous homes,” I confide. “Now, I have met a few characters.” I describe Elma and Stump at the Citgo station and can’t help but giggle out loud.
The sound rings across the room and I cover my mouth. Other people could be trying to sleep. Or enjoy the quiet. For that matter, I don’t know if Roger is in the next room. And he doesn’t need more to gossip about.
In the background, someone yells for Marietta and she muffles the phone. “That’s David, for the second time,” she finally whispers. “You didn’t tell me he’s such a slave driver.”
I wince and want to shrink into my skin. Workaholics are like that . “Sorry, I should have mentioned it. I guess they misplaced the perfectionism gene when they got around to me. I was handed the can’t-pay-attention unless the room is
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