A Cherry Cola Christmas (4 page)

“Well, I guess that leaves me, then, to help the police and the sheriff out,” Maura Beth added. “I think I might start taking little walks along Commerce Street on my lunch hour. Maybe I'll just pop in and out of stores or do some window-shopping. Heaven knows, I always need a break from that dark, windowless office of mine. And who can tell? I could get lucky and see something as it happens. Why, I could even be part of the breaking news of the day.”

“Just don't go superhero on us, sweetie. We want you to stay safe and sound. By the way, how's the new library coming along?” Becca said, changing the subject with a smile. “I haven't gotten out to the lake to see it lately.”

“It's taking shape quite nicely. Those tall concrete pillars are rising from the slab at last. It's such an exciting time for me, I don't know what to do with myself. Connie and Doug keep me posted on the latest developments, since they're only a hop, skip, and a jump away at the lodge.”

Maura Beth sat back for a moment and reflected once again upon the generosity of Jeremy's aunt and uncle. The McShays had sped things up considerably by donating some of their lakefront property for the construction of the new library—thus preventing Councilman Sparks from keeping the project on that infernal backburner of his. She knew only too well that if there was any way he could scuttle the project even at this late stage, he would try his best.

“What's the actual timetable for getting into the building?” Becca continued. “I can hardly wait for my little one to get big enough to sign up for summer reading out there. I looked forward to it so when I was a little girl. Anyone can put a child in front of a television set, but taking a child to the library to learn how to read—now that's some smart parenting and the gift of a lifetime.”

Maura Beth paused to count up the months in her head. “My best estimate is next summer—that is, if we don't get too much bad weather during the winter. Of course, once the roof 's on, even that won't matter. I'm thinking it would be ideal if we could have a grand opening on or around the Fourth of July. We could even have a fireworks display at dusk to get everyone out to the lake to ooh and aah and carry on in general. I mean, can't you just see it—hot dogs, ice cream, apple pie, sparklers, the works? And people crowded out on the deck of the library to watch it all. It'll be the start of a new era of participation and support!”

“That's a spectacular idea!” Connie McShay added. “I really hope the timing works out, and you know you can count on me and Douglas to help you with the planning, of course. You could even use our deck for your staging area if you need it.”

“Thanks. I look at it this way,” Maura Beth said. “If nothing else, the new library will be at least one bright spot on the Cherico horizon.”

 

When the sheriff had finished his second helping of food and finally left smiling and patting his stomach, Maura Beth took her place behind the podium and reminded the club of their upcoming review of
The Member of the Wedding
. “We've got a little more than three weeks to finish our October read, people. It'll be our last of the year since we'll recess for the upcoming holidays. We'll decide what to read next year at that time. And please remember to check with Becca about your potluck assignments, if you're someone we always depend upon.”

Becca briefly waved her hand from side to side. “Yes, I haven't heard from some of you on your preferences this time around. As usual, we don't want too many entrées and no desserts—or vice versa.”

“I'm halfway through
The Member of the Wedding,
and I just don't see any food theme in the story,” Miss Voncille said. “Unless it's a wedding cake. I mean, our
Forrest Gump
review was a natural with the shrimp dishes some people fixed. But that little mixed-up Frankie Addams girl in this one—well, she doesn't eat a thing Berenice Sadie Brown puts in front of her. You can tell Berenice is one of those good, down-home Southern cooks the way she takes the time to shell her peas instead of pouring them out of a can like so many people do these days. She's the sort of help who's fallen by the wayside, unfortunately. I always had a good appetite when I was growing up, and I never went through a period like Frankie did where she didn't fit into anything. And I can't imagine not scrubbing my elbows and then getting all my hair cut so short you look like a boy. What Frankie really needs is the tender, loving care of a mother.”

“But she doesn't have one. That's the whole point, Voncille,” Mamie Crumpton pointed out with a haughty stare. “Her father is widowed and works hard, so she's on her own all the time. Aren't you paying attention to what you read, or is that too much to ask?”

Maura Beth stepped in once again. “I appreciate your comments, ladies. You're both obviously very involved with the plot, and that's terrific. But maybe we should save these insights for our actual review. And there doesn't have to be a food theme for us to read any work of literature, you know. I realize how important the potluck dishes have become to everyone. They're a big part of the club's success. Today's little feast was a great example. Sheriff Dreyfus raved about everything, and I really thought he was going to help himself to thirds. But references to food are not why we select our books. Anyhow, you can still fix those biscuits of yours if you want, Miss Voncille. I know everyone loves them.”

“I sure do, and I've even put on a few pounds eating them since we got married,” Locke Linwood added, pointing to his waist.

“I've already told Becca I want to bring my world-famous chocolate pudding this time,” Mamie said. “I sprinkle lots of slivered almonds on top for a little change of pace. It was Mother's basic recipe, of course, but I decided to tweak it a little. Isn't that right, Sister?”

For once, the timid, mousy Marydell Crumpton spoke up for herself, surprising everyone. “As I recall, the almonds were my idea.”

“Why, they most certainly were not. Now what on earth has gotten into you, Sister dear?”

“I beg to differ. The crunch was my idea, and you know it. One day in the kitchen I commented to you that I thought the pudding had gotten too predictable and needed a little kick. Then I went to the pantry and rummaged through it until I found the almonds.”

“I don't remember it that way!” Mamie insisted. “I was the one who poured them on top first!”

Maura Beth's jaw dropped, and everyone else in the club was frowning in disbelief. No one had ever heard Marydell say anything in reply to her dominating sister other than yes. And now here she was, fighting for the floor and respectably holding her own.

The exchange escalated when Miss Voncille joined in with a gleeful expression. “This is rich. The Crumpton sisters arguing over pudding and almonds. I never thought I'd see the day!”

Mamie heaved her chest mightily in Miss Voncille's general direction. “This is none of your all-fired business, Voncille. I claim the slivered almonds, and that's the end of the story!”

Surprisingly, Marydell stood up and sprang to the podium, waving her hands frantically as if fighting off a gnat buzzing around her head. “May I have a word with the club, Maura Beth?”

“Of course. Please go right ahead,” Maura Beth replied, stepping aside with ever-widening eyes. What was the world coming to? Marydell Crumpton had finally emerged from the considerable shadow of her overbearing sister. Meanwhile, Mamie was fuming in her seat, but there was no telling when she might explode.

“I just wanted to say,” Marydell began while everyone leaned forward in great anticipation, “that being a member of this wonderful club has opened my eyes. I wasn't much of a reader before my sister and I joined, but now I am. There's a world of ideas and characters out there who do more than just sit idly by and watch other people do the talking for them and—”

The fidgeting Mamie finally interrupted. “Really, Marydell, just what are you trying to get at here?”

Marydell gestured toward Nora Duddney in the front row, Councilman Sparks's ex-secretary who had surprised everyone by literally reinventing herself and helping Maura Beth secure the funding for the new library behind the scenes. As a result, she had even acquired a boyfriend in the form of retired stockbroker Wally Denver, who was new in town and more than happy to accompany Nora to her book club meetings. “Miz Duddney was my real inspiration. I saw how she came to our meetings and started asserting herself. She had opinions about the books and everything else. And so, just the other day, as I was reading
The Member of the Wedding,
I said to myself: ‘Marydell, you've been acting just like poor Frankie Addams. She's lost, and you're lost. The only way you fit in is to follow your sister around silently like some sort of dummy, and she's the ventriloquist.' ” She paused to glare at Mamie, who was aiming daggers at her in return.

“Well, no more. I do have opinions, and at our next review, I'm going to start expressing them. And I'm practicing for it right now by saying to all of you that the idea for sprinkling slivered almonds on Mother's chocolate pudding recipe was mine. All mine. And that's the truth!”

With that, Marydell resumed her seat, looking straight ahead and ignoring the rigid, frowning face of her sister beside her.

“What a nice compliment to pay me,” Nora Duddney said, blowing her a kiss from her seat on the end. “I completely agree with you about the book club. Best move I ever made. And Wally here says it's really helped him make friends here in Cherico—yours truly especially.”

“It has for a fact, folks,” he said, nodding agreeably in that big, teddy-bear fashion of his. “I really do appreciate the warm welcome I've received from everybody here at the library.”

But Mamie completely ignored him, turning quickly in her chair and flashing on Nora and Marydell at the same time. “We are not here to drag family quarrels out into the open!”

It was up to Maura Beth to break through the tension gripping the room, as she stood behind the podium once again. “Well, Marydell, I, too, have to applaud your spunk and your honesty. And I have to say that I'm flattered the club has done so much for you. Not only do we get to know the characters in all of the books we review, it's my opinion that we get to know each other as well—and not just on the surface. We've all been there for each other for much more than book reviews and potluck, and I'm quite sure that will continue in the future no matter what happens. So, I'm very much looking forward to your comments on
The Member of the Wedding
when we get together a few weeks from now. Yours, too, Mamie.”

“Thank you,” Marydell replied, sounding greatly relieved while continuing to avoid her sister's eyes.

“On that note,” Maura Beth added quickly before Mamie could say anything further, “I think we should wrap things up. Meanwhile, good reading to everyone, and remember to keep your eyes and ears wide open for anything suspicious around town. And keep on soliciting new members for the club. By the time the new library opens next summer, we want that enormous meeting room I've designed to be jam-packed. I'm talking standing room only for The Cherry Cola Book Club.”

4

The Sinkhole

T
wo weeks out from
The Member of the Wedding
review and potluck, Maura Beth began her front desk clerk interviews in earnest. She certainly wanted the extra staff in place well before Christmas. She'd paid for an ad to run every day on WHYY, and she, Renette, and Emma had tacked posters all over town—including on James Hannigan's bulletin board at The Cherico Market; but she was having serious issues with the selection of candidates who had shown up so far.

“Extremely underqualified and oblivious” was Maura Beth's note to herself after one young housewife offered up the following: “Umm, do you have to have a high-school diploma for this? I'm just kinda bored at home watching TV all the time, but if I got the job, is there a TV here I could watch on my breaks? There are some shows I just wouldn't wanna miss.”

“An accident waiting to happen” was her comment on another young female applicant who pressed the envelope in a similar manner: “How many holidays do we get, and if I get pregnant, how much maternity leave? Now, don't get me wrong—I'm not married yet. Not sure I believe in it. But I wanted to check—just in case something happens. Uh, condoms sometimes break, you know.”

Then there were a couple of less-than-hopefuls who made even those two look like winners: “Now, would I be greeting everyone as they walk in like they do at Wal-Mart over in Corinth? I think that's such a stupid job, but I could do it if I have to,” one particularly vapid young girl in a halter top asked, taking time out from gazing around Maura Beth's office as if she were visiting from another planet and trying her gum-chewing best to get the lay of the land.

“Do we have to stand all the time?” one middle-aged man with greasy-looking, long hair wanted to know. “I have awful feet. You should see my corns. I spend a fortune at the foot doctor's, and I could take my socks off and show ya so you know I'm not just making it up.”

“Thank you very much for coming in today,” Maura Beth had told them all without a moment's hesitation, always plastering an impossibly wide grin on her face. “We'll call you.”

It was beginning to look like there was no one out there in Cherico with the proper qualifications; then a red-eyed, exhausted-looking Emma Frost dragged herself into Maura Beth's office one morning with more bad news.

“Leonard, he definitely has the Alltimer's, Miz Maura Beth,” she said, fighting back tears as she took her seat. “Me and my daughter, Cissy—we're gonna have to be lookin' after him all the time now and hire a sitter, too. But you said we could work out my hours here at the library so I could keep my job.”

“Of course we can,” Maura Beth told her, reaching across to pat her hand. “And I'm so sorry that it's turned out this way.”

“They say he'll have to take some kinda medication every day of his life now to slow it down a little,” Emma added, sniffling. “But . . . I guess you know there's no cure for it. He's just gonna go even more downhill from here. He's just gonna . . . completely disappear until . . . well, you know how it ends up.”

“Yes, I do know, dear. And again, I'm so sorry.” Maura Beth handed over a Kleenex from the box atop her cluttered desk and kept a smile on her face. “But don't you worry about your job here. As long as you want some hours to work, I'll see to it that you have them. My idea in hiring two new clerks is that I'll be able to divide up the workload a little better.”

Emma blew her nose loudly, crumpled up the tissue, and then exhaled. “You really are the best boss in the world. And if there's ever anything I can do for you, Miz Maura Beth, you just let me know.”

Maura Beth thought for a while. “As a matter of fact, if you know anyone at all who might be interested in working here at the front desk, tell them about the openings we have. I've budgeted for two more, but so far, no one's walked in that has the faintest idea of what the job requires. In fact, they've all been downright scary—like something out of one of those reality TV shows. Renette's already asked her circle of girlfriends, but all of them have jobs they really like, so I really do need some help here.”

Emma frowned as she considered and then finally brightened. “I'll ask around at my next church social. I'm takin' Leonard to the one tomorrow night. Seems like I remember someone sayin' they were lookin' for some part-time work a while back. All the folks at my church, they're good people who'd work real hard for ya. I know I'd vouch for any of 'em.”

Maura Beth sat back and tapped her ballpoint pen on the arm of her chair. “At this point, an honest, hardworking, churchgoing front desk clerk sounds like a godsend to me.”

 

“Well, it finally happened at school today, Maurie!” Jeremy was saying with an edge to his voice as he poured himself a glass of Merlot in the kitchen of their little Painter Street cottage. She had just walked in from her trying day of awkward interviews and consoling Emma Frost at the library to find her husband at the counter looking thoroughly disgusted.

“What did?” She moved to him quickly and pointed to the bottle of wine. “Wait. Before you tell me, pour me a little of that. I can tell I'm going to need it. My day's been edgy, too!”

Despite his bad mood, he gave her a peck on the cheek, retrieved a wineglass, and filled it halfway. “To cut to the chase, I had it out with Obie Hutchinson today about the literary field trip issue for my class. Makes me think he and Yelverton up at New Gallatin Academy have been in cahoots. Hutchinson's been promising me for weeks for a decision on my request to take a bus over to Oxford for a Faulkner field trip, but just like my hardheaded, former headmaster, he's having none of it. So, I'm back to square one.”

“You didn't lose your temper, I hope,” Maura Beth said between sips of her wine. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“No, I managed to hold it together. Last time I lost my temper over the issue, I almost bought the farm in my little Volvo out on the Natchez Trace.”

Maura Beth leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. “Although something good did come of your little accident with that deer. It brought us together once and for all—we both realized we couldn't make it as a couple with you living up in Nashville and me down here in Cherico.” She took another sip of wine, savoring the bouquet for a moment, and then took a deep breath. “So, what's your next move with Hutchinson going to be?”

His exasperated tone suddenly disappeared. “I'm thinking I get the parents all excited about this. Maybe e-mail or even call them all and suggest they each pony up a few bucks so the school can cover the costs. And we'll need chaperones, so I'm thinking I could hook a few of them that way, too. I know, I've learned my lesson about being patient and not flying off the handle so easily. Now, I won't lie to you—there were a few moments there where I felt like telling him off the way I did Yelverton about his shortsightedness. But the good news is that I didn't. I kept myself under control this time. You would've been proud of me.”

She chucked him on the arm playfully. “There you go. Sounds like a plan to me. Oh, and for the record, if you ever do get that trip to Oxford lined up to tour Rowan Oak and have lunch at one of those fantastic restaurants around The Square, you can absolutely count me in. Believe it or not, I haven't made the time to go over there in all the years I've been up here in Mississippi, and I'm a bit ashamed of myself that I haven't.”

“Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. Having Councilman Sparks in your face all the time hasn't left you much wiggle room for side trips. I doubt Triple A even has suggestions to keep him at bay.” Then he frowned and snapped his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Johnnie-Dell Crews and I were in the faculty lounge this morning having coffee and doughnuts when she told me some news you're not gonna like too much. She said she'd heard through the grapevine that Cherico Tresses was going to be moving to Corinth in the next month or two. That's where you get your hair fixed up, right?”

Maura Beth quickly put her wineglass down and gave him an incredulous stare. “What? Where did she hear that? She doesn't even get her hair done, Miss Voncille told me once. Last time I kept my appointment, Terra Munrow didn't say a word to me. It was just business as usual. I've been going to her practically since I came up from New Orleans, so I can't believe she wouldn't tell me something like that!”

“I'm just repeating what Johnnie-Dell said. You can call her up if you want. I've got her number.”

Maura Beth took her cell phone out of her pocket and punched up a couple of digits. “I'd rather call Terra and get it from the horse's mouth.”

But she only got through to Terra's voice mail for her trouble and left a hurried message: “Terra, this is Maura Beth. Please call me as soon as you can and tell me about these awful rumors I've heard that Cherico Tresses is moving away, God forbid. Thanks.” Then she put the phone down on the counter and exhaled forcefully. “What next? With all these businesses closing, plant prospects turning us down, and everyone worried to death about thieves running around town, it feels like Cherico has moved to Florida all of a sudden and is slowly being swallowed up by one of those gigantic sinkholes!”

Jeremy put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “It's not as bad as all that. You've still got your library going up out at the lake, and I've still got my job teaching.”

Maura Beth tried her best to smile but couldn't. “I'm thankful for that, sweetheart. Believe me, I am. But I've got the feeling that things might get worse before they get better.”

 

Mr. Place's drive to his mother's house on Big Hill Lane that evening after work was filled with great anticipation. Once or twice he caught a smirking glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. Why, the handsome fella he saw there was gonna blow his mama's socks off with what he had to tell her! The two security cameras that had been installed that morning at The Twinkle—one in the dining room and one in the kitchen—were working to perfection, and it was Periwinkle who had put it succinctly: “Just let anyone try anything low-down now. I flat out double-dog dare 'em. We'll catch 'em and put their little behinds in jail!”

They had also decided to treat Ardenia to dinner with all the trimmings sometime during the coming week, showing her the monitors in Periwinkle's office and letting her keep an eye on things for a while after she'd finished her dessert. They even planned to let her keep a log of anything significant she saw. Even if it was nothing but business as usual throughout the restaurant.

“I know Mama'll be impressed, and it'll make her feel like she's helping out with the crime-prevention thing,” Mr. Place had added. “She's so adamant about it, but I really do understand. She wants to be a part of everything now. When she was growing up, she couldn't be a part of anything with the Jim Crow laws and all.”

In truth, his mother had remained downright crotchety about his decision to take her keys away from her, but he could not in good conscience allow her to drive around by herself any longer. He planned to sell her car, deposit the money in her savings account, and that would be the end of it. They had argued about it more than once, and there had been her outburst at the library when the sheriff had given his crime-prevention lecture. But perhaps letting her come into the restaurant now and then to check things out in the office would keep her frustrations at bay. Besides, she loved watching television and was very possessive of the remote; this way she would have two screens at once to occupy her time. It would be the perfect solution.

As Mr. Place entered his mother's tidy kitchen, which always featured a homemade pie or cake sitting out on the counter under a clear glass dome, he noted for not the first time that she had the volume on the TV set in the living room way up. He had begun to think she was starting to lose her hearing on top of everything else that was wrong with her. After telling her about the security cameras, he was just going to have to work in a suggestion to go to the doctor for a test—diplomatically, of course. There was no way around it—seventy-five had been taking its toll on his beloved mother for some time now, and it was his duty as a good son to protect her as best he could. After all, she had given him a home after the Grand Shelby Hotel up in Memphis had been torn down, and being vigilant was his way of repaying her.

“Mama, I'm home!” he called out as he entered the living room. “Can you turn that down a little bit? I wanna tell you all about the cameras and something else Peri and I think you'll really like doing.”

Across the way, he saw that she was propped up in her usual spot on the end of the sofa with her treasured remote resting in her lap, and it brought a smile to his face. Ardenia Bedloe was nothing if not an adorable creature of habit.

“Mama!” he repeated, walking over quickly to take a seat next to her. “That's a little loud, don'tcha think?”

When she did not immediately obey, he snatched up the remote and muted the TV himself. “That's better. Now I can hear myself think.”

It was only when he actually focused on her eyes that he grasped the fact she was not watching and listening to the TV at all, and in a further searing flash of emotion that spread from beneath his chest to every nerve in his extremities—one he would remember for the rest of his life—he realized she would never be watching and listening to the TV again. Then the remote fell from his hand onto the carpet below as the room was filled with his primal scream; but despite enduring the worst pain of his life, he was somehow able to compose himself enough to call 911.