take credit for doing,” Everett said.
“But Mama has always been better friends with Agnes than she is with Violet. She can’t stand Violet,” Stella said.
“I know that, but if it’s something for the church like dyein’ Eas ter eggs or servin’ dinner for anything from funerals to Sunday school meetings, it was your mama who did the work. She’d tell me that it was for the church and she couldn’t say no to something for the church.” Everett finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the metal trash can. It rattled around, the sound echoing off the walls for several seconds before it settled to the bottom. “I’m going fishin’ with Jed. Maybe floatin’ down the river with a preacher will keep me from doin’ something that ain’t right. I kind of like that feller. He’s all right for a preacher. He ain’t all pompous and holier-than-thou and he don’t preach at me when we’re talkin’. He’s just a good old regular feller.”
Stella swallowed fast to keep from spitting beer across the room. “I’m glad you’ve found a new friend. Don’t worry about the Angels, Daddy. When they all learn that their barbecue ball is just a party and not a matchmaking club, it’ll blow over and maybe Mama will see what you’ve been tryin’ to tell her all along. Agnes says it’s not going to be an annual affair, that she’ll make sure of it. So all we got to do is weather this storm. You know there’s sunshine back in behind most storms.”
Everett chuckled as he hoisted himself out of the chair. “Who are you preachin’ at, darlin’, me or you?”
Stella held out her hand and he pulled her up. “Mostly to myself, if I’m honest.”
“Well, it’s a damn good thing that you know that, and don’t you say that matchmaking club idea out loud ever again. They’ll start drawing up the constitution and bylaws for one and invite Nancy to be the chairman of the board or some such shit. Them old women need to leave you young girls alone and let y’all decide what to do with your lives. Hell, both your grandmas would roll over in their graves if they knew what was going on here. They fought like pit bulls for women’s rights and now this bunch thinks they can go back to the caveman days and do them prearranged marriage things with a side order of brisket. Dammit! I’m goin’ fishin’ before I get riled up.” Everett started for the door but then turned around and came back to hug his daughter. At well over six feet tall, he had to bend to wrap her up in a bear hug. “I ain’t about to let your mama’s doin’s keep me from seein’ you, kiddo. I’ll pop in and out and bring you a beer.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” Stella said.
He waved over his shoulder and hollered, “See you at the football field on Friday for the Fourth of July celebration if I don’t see you before then. We can share a funnel cake like we always do.”
Charlotte purred like a kitten as she rolled over and wrapped her arms around Boone that morning. Her eyes flew open when she realized that all she had was a handful of feather pillow, but then she smelled the coffee and smiled. Boone was making his famous straight-from-the-can cinnamon rolls. She shut her eyes so she’d be surprised when he brought the tray to the bed. Her hand touched something that felt like paper so she peeked over the pillow and there was a note attached with a safety pin: Sorry, darlin’. Thought I had the day off but I have to go in after all. One of the other firemen came down with the flu and it’s my rotation for overtime. Coffee is made. Love, Boone.
Charlotte moaned, pulled the covers over her head, and whined. Now that all her Monday plans had been shot to hell, she might as well go on to the shop and help Stella clean up. She could work on that knitted baby blanket she’d started the week before or finish reading that new cowboy romance by Joanne Kennedy, but neither one sounded as good as gossiping with Stella.
Maybe after they cleaned
“But Mama has always been better friends with Agnes than she is with Violet. She can’t stand Violet,” Stella said.
“I know that, but if it’s something for the church like dyein’ Eas ter eggs or servin’ dinner for anything from funerals to Sunday school meetings, it was your mama who did the work. She’d tell me that it was for the church and she couldn’t say no to something for the church.” Everett finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the metal trash can. It rattled around, the sound echoing off the walls for several seconds before it settled to the bottom. “I’m going fishin’ with Jed. Maybe floatin’ down the river with a preacher will keep me from doin’ something that ain’t right. I kind of like that feller. He’s all right for a preacher. He ain’t all pompous and holier-than-thou and he don’t preach at me when we’re talkin’. He’s just a good old regular feller.”
Stella swallowed fast to keep from spitting beer across the room. “I’m glad you’ve found a new friend. Don’t worry about the Angels, Daddy. When they all learn that their barbecue ball is just a party and not a matchmaking club, it’ll blow over and maybe Mama will see what you’ve been tryin’ to tell her all along. Agnes says it’s not going to be an annual affair, that she’ll make sure of it. So all we got to do is weather this storm. You know there’s sunshine back in behind most storms.”
Everett chuckled as he hoisted himself out of the chair. “Who are you preachin’ at, darlin’, me or you?”
Stella held out her hand and he pulled her up. “Mostly to myself, if I’m honest.”
“Well, it’s a damn good thing that you know that, and don’t you say that matchmaking club idea out loud ever again. They’ll start drawing up the constitution and bylaws for one and invite Nancy to be the chairman of the board or some such shit. Them old women need to leave you young girls alone and let y’all decide what to do with your lives. Hell, both your grandmas would roll over in their graves if they knew what was going on here. They fought like pit bulls for women’s rights and now this bunch thinks they can go back to the caveman days and do them prearranged marriage things with a side order of brisket. Dammit! I’m goin’ fishin’ before I get riled up.” Everett started for the door but then turned around and came back to hug his daughter. At well over six feet tall, he had to bend to wrap her up in a bear hug. “I ain’t about to let your mama’s doin’s keep me from seein’ you, kiddo. I’ll pop in and out and bring you a beer.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” Stella said.
He waved over his shoulder and hollered, “See you at the football field on Friday for the Fourth of July celebration if I don’t see you before then. We can share a funnel cake like we always do.”
Charlotte purred like a kitten as she rolled over and wrapped her arms around Boone that morning. Her eyes flew open when she realized that all she had was a handful of feather pillow, but then she smelled the coffee and smiled. Boone was making his famous straight-from-the-can cinnamon rolls. She shut her eyes so she’d be surprised when he brought the tray to the bed. Her hand touched something that felt like paper so she peeked over the pillow and there was a note attached with a safety pin: Sorry, darlin’. Thought I had the day off but I have to go in after all. One of the other firemen came down with the flu and it’s my rotation for overtime. Coffee is made. Love, Boone.
Charlotte moaned, pulled the covers over her head, and whined. Now that all her Monday plans had been shot to hell, she might as well go on to the shop and help Stella clean up. She could work on that knitted baby blanket she’d started the week before or finish reading that new cowboy romance by Joanne Kennedy, but neither one sounded as good as gossiping with Stella.
Maybe after they cleaned
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