at a time. A pot of coffee and three curious people waited for her.
“Morning,” she mumbled, and headed to the cupboard for a cup.
“Morning,” they chorused at the top of their lungs. Or so it seemed.
“Oh, Lord, not so loud,” she whispered, gripping the counter with one hand. With the other she took a cup down and filled it with thick, black coffee.
“Big night last night?” her father asked.
“You could say that.” She sat heavily in a kitchen chair, careful not to meet Lester’s twinkling eyes.
Helen pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and biscuits in front of her. Calla groaned.
“No. I can’t. Take ‘em away.”
“You eat ‘em.”
“No. Please. I’m going to throw up.”
Helen scooted the plate away. “Don’t you throw up in my kitchen, young lady.”
Lester was chuckling. If she’d had the strength, she’d have knocked him flat.
“Hung over, Calla?”
“Pot calling the kettle black, Lester?”
“Calla.”
“Oh, everyone just leave me alone to die in peace, will you? I can’t take any of you this morning.” Calla tried to glare at her family, but found she couldn’t squint without causing a shooting pain to pierce her temples. She gave up and shut her eyes altogether. “Why the hell aren’t you at work, Lester?”
“I been at work all morning while you’ve been sleeping it off, Miss Smarty.”
“Well, a thousand more times, and we’ll be even then,” Calla said, taking a gulp of hot coffee. “Just out of curiosity, how did I get home last night?”
“Clark called.” Helen’s tone was unreadable. She was scooping the eggs and toast into the dog dishes on the counter. “Jackson went to fetch you at his motel. Clark said he didn’t want to drive all the way out.”
“Oh.” No positive sign, then. Helen must have got her into her nightgown. “But I see the truck in the driveway. How did it get here?”
“Lester and I picked it up at the Oasis. You left the keys in it, darlin’,” her father said gently.
“Sorry. I had a lot on my mind.” She took another sip of coffee and tried to focus her attention on something. It wasn’t wise, she knew, but she chose Lester. “It’s only the middle of the morning. What’re you doing in here now? Taking a coffee break?”
There was a heavy silence in the kitchen. Calla registered it even through her hangover haze.
“Lester?”
He didn’t speak. The twinkle was gone and he looked … sheepish.
“What’s going on?”
Another long silence. “Dad? Helen?”
No answer.
“What? What is it? Dupree? Did Dupree call? Dammit!”
“Dupree?” Jackson glanced up, puzzled. “No, Dupree didn’t call. Why? Was he supposed to?”
“No, never mind. What then?”
The three older people didn’t meet her eyes, but she saw them exchange little glances between them. This generation was going to be the death of her.
“What? What?” She felt a little rush of panic. Henry? Was Henry gone, or hurt? “Tell me.”
“We’re getting married,” Helen said finally.
Calla blinked. “Um, I must still be feeling the effects of the margaritas. I beg your pardon?”
Lester cleared his throat. “I’ve asked Miz Helen to be my wife,” he said with profound seriousness. He peered up at his intended with puppy-soft eyes. Calla felt another wave of nausea. “And she has accepted.”
“What?”
“Now, Calla…” her father began.
“Lester Smiley, you are fired. You got ten minutes to pack your bag and get the hell off my land.”
“Calla!” Helen said, puffing like a sage grouse. “You say you’re sorry to Lester.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Calla stood up. She was rocked by the splitting pain in her head. “Are you all just completely out of your minds?” She looked at Helen. “You are going to marry this … this … boozing old man?”
“Look who’s talking,” Lester said.
“You are fired. Get out!”
She started for the door, grabbing the boots that were neatly coupled there. “I’m
“Morning,” she mumbled, and headed to the cupboard for a cup.
“Morning,” they chorused at the top of their lungs. Or so it seemed.
“Oh, Lord, not so loud,” she whispered, gripping the counter with one hand. With the other she took a cup down and filled it with thick, black coffee.
“Big night last night?” her father asked.
“You could say that.” She sat heavily in a kitchen chair, careful not to meet Lester’s twinkling eyes.
Helen pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and biscuits in front of her. Calla groaned.
“No. I can’t. Take ‘em away.”
“You eat ‘em.”
“No. Please. I’m going to throw up.”
Helen scooted the plate away. “Don’t you throw up in my kitchen, young lady.”
Lester was chuckling. If she’d had the strength, she’d have knocked him flat.
“Hung over, Calla?”
“Pot calling the kettle black, Lester?”
“Calla.”
“Oh, everyone just leave me alone to die in peace, will you? I can’t take any of you this morning.” Calla tried to glare at her family, but found she couldn’t squint without causing a shooting pain to pierce her temples. She gave up and shut her eyes altogether. “Why the hell aren’t you at work, Lester?”
“I been at work all morning while you’ve been sleeping it off, Miss Smarty.”
“Well, a thousand more times, and we’ll be even then,” Calla said, taking a gulp of hot coffee. “Just out of curiosity, how did I get home last night?”
“Clark called.” Helen’s tone was unreadable. She was scooping the eggs and toast into the dog dishes on the counter. “Jackson went to fetch you at his motel. Clark said he didn’t want to drive all the way out.”
“Oh.” No positive sign, then. Helen must have got her into her nightgown. “But I see the truck in the driveway. How did it get here?”
“Lester and I picked it up at the Oasis. You left the keys in it, darlin’,” her father said gently.
“Sorry. I had a lot on my mind.” She took another sip of coffee and tried to focus her attention on something. It wasn’t wise, she knew, but she chose Lester. “It’s only the middle of the morning. What’re you doing in here now? Taking a coffee break?”
There was a heavy silence in the kitchen. Calla registered it even through her hangover haze.
“Lester?”
He didn’t speak. The twinkle was gone and he looked … sheepish.
“What’s going on?”
Another long silence. “Dad? Helen?”
No answer.
“What? What is it? Dupree? Did Dupree call? Dammit!”
“Dupree?” Jackson glanced up, puzzled. “No, Dupree didn’t call. Why? Was he supposed to?”
“No, never mind. What then?”
The three older people didn’t meet her eyes, but she saw them exchange little glances between them. This generation was going to be the death of her.
“What? What?” She felt a little rush of panic. Henry? Was Henry gone, or hurt? “Tell me.”
“We’re getting married,” Helen said finally.
Calla blinked. “Um, I must still be feeling the effects of the margaritas. I beg your pardon?”
Lester cleared his throat. “I’ve asked Miz Helen to be my wife,” he said with profound seriousness. He peered up at his intended with puppy-soft eyes. Calla felt another wave of nausea. “And she has accepted.”
“What?”
“Now, Calla…” her father began.
“Lester Smiley, you are fired. You got ten minutes to pack your bag and get the hell off my land.”
“Calla!” Helen said, puffing like a sage grouse. “You say you’re sorry to Lester.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Calla stood up. She was rocked by the splitting pain in her head. “Are you all just completely out of your minds?” She looked at Helen. “You are going to marry this … this … boozing old man?”
“Look who’s talking,” Lester said.
“You are fired. Get out!”
She started for the door, grabbing the boots that were neatly coupled there. “I’m
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