The Quaker Café (17 page)

             
Miss Ellie walked over as soon as she saw Nat and gave him a hug. “My, my, don’t you look good, honey,” she said. “Everything going okay?”

             
“Yes ma’am, they’re treating me fine. Miss Ellie, you remember my fiancée, Lexa Lloyd?” Lexa stood and embraced Miss Ellie.

             
“Of course I do. We’re all so pleased to hear about the wedding. Just wish it was going to be up here in Cedar Branch.”

             
“You’re invited to Charleston, you know,” Nat said. “We wish you would come.”

             
“I wish I could, too, but I doubt if I’ll be able to make it,” Miss Ellie said. “But you’ll have plenty of people there to help you celebrate. Now what can I get you folks besides biscuits?”

             
“Fried chicken all around, country style with whatever vegetables you’re serving tonight,” Nat said, “and give the bill to Frogbelly over there. He’s paying for everything.”

             
Frogbelly eyes opened wide and there was laughter.

             
Grandma had seated herself directly across from Nat and Lexa. She wasted no time in cornering the conversation. “Have you ever been to a Quaker wedding, Alexandra?” she asked.

             
“No ma’am, I haven’t,” Lexa said. “Nat has told me about them, though.”

             
“They’re really quite lovely. Simple, nothing extraordinary. It’s actually part of the regular meeting for worship.”

             
“So he said.”

             
“No bridesmaids. The bride might wear a new dress, but nothing fancy. Have you picked out your dress already?”

             
“Yes, ma’am, I have.” Lexa knew she was about to get the third degree, and   proceeded cautiously.

             
“Bridesmaids?  Will there be bridesmaids?”

             
“Yes, ma’am, my sister and a few special friends I’ve invited to stand with me.”

             
“A few?” Frogbelly let out a guffaw at his end of the table. “Miz Hoole, that church is going to be so weighted down with groomsmen and bridesmaids at the front end, the sanctuary may collapse. If I were you, I’d get there early to make sure they don’t prop you up in the stairwell. It’s going to be a spectacle to behold.” 

If looks could kill,
Frogbelly would have been on life support, but he was too busy cracking open hot biscuits and slapping butter in them to notice. When the conversation ceased altogether he looked up in surprise, swallowed the food in his mouth, and beamed at everyone.

             
Grandpa Hoole made an effort to soften Frogbelly’s remark. “That sounds like something I want to see,” he said with a warm smile.

             
“Let me tell you about our wedding,” Grandma glanced over at Grandpa and then looked again at Lexa. “We had it at New Garden Friends Meeting across the street from Guilford College. I had a short white dress that my mother made for me. About half way through the silent service, Nathan and I rose and stood in front of our friends and God to say our vows to one another.”

             
“No party afterwards?” Nicholas asked somewhat disappointed.

 
              “Oh yes, there was very nice gathering afterwards. Everyone brought something to eat for a pot-luck. Some of the girls in my dorm had made us a cake. That was it. We were married… one of the most memorable days of my life.”

             
“Nobody else spoke or sang during the service?” Lexa asked.

             
“Well, I think one or two people rose and spoke. To be honest, I don’t remember a word, I was so nervous. Do you remember anything that was said, Nathan?”  She looked across at Grandpa.

             
“Only you, my dear. Only what you said.”

             
“Is that legal?” Lexa asked.

             
“It is. There is a wedding certificate that everyone who is present signs to verify that the vows were exchanged. It’s recognized as a legal document. It’s framed on our wall if you’d like to take a look.”

             
“I’d love to,” Lexa said. “Could we do something like that?  Would the Quakers allow us to have a wedding certificate signed by everyone present?”

             
“Well, I’m quite sure,” Grandma said, pleased that Lexa seemed interested.

           A high-pitched voice interrupted the conversation and heads turned to see Helen Truitt holding court with her regula
rs. Across from Helen sat Irene Lambert, a lamppost of a woman, and the Barker sisters on each side. Billie referred to them in code as the OHIO Squad, with Helen on one side, skinny Irene across from her and the sisters who measured identical in circumferences. They were all in their seventies, and seemed to be always gunning for someone.

Liz wanted to avoid Helen, but knew it was impossible
. Helen wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to speak to Nat and meet Lexa. Liz saw her push out her chair and then make her way to their table.

             
“Nat,” Helen said, “it’s always good to have you come home. We see you so seldom now that you’ve got that important job. And is this the lovely bride-to-be?”

             
“Yes, ma’am,” Nat said as he rose to greet her and give her a peck on the cheek.

             
“I’ve heard it’s going to be quite the wedding. Something different from the Quakers, huh?” she said as she looked between Grandpa and Grandma. Neither made a comment.

             
This is good
, Liz thought, sensing a potential advantage.
Nothing better to get Grandma on Nat’s side than Helen making some wisecrack.

             
“I’ve heard the guest list is top heavy with all of those Charleston bigwigs, but I wouldn’t be able to make it, anyway,” Helen elaborated. “So don’t worry about my invitation. Travel costs, hotel, and all. It would be much too expensive.”

             
“It is a long drive,” Grandma said, practicing honesty to the letter.

Receiving no further response on the wedding Helen deftly changed the subject. “We haven’t seen Maggie her
e for a while. I can’t help but wonder what she’s been doing lately?” 

             
“She’s been in Raleigh,” Liz said. “She’s involved in a case there and working on the Judge’s estate. You know it’s considerable.” Liz knew it was entirely inappropriate for her to say anything, but she just couldn’t resist the temptation to tweak Helen a bit given her attitude about the Judge’s funeral.

Eyes opened a bit wider
. Liz went further. “Maggie told me she intends to give the Methodist Church a very generous gift. She was very appreciative of the way the membership responded to her father’s funeral. It meant a lot to her.”

             
“Oh, really?” Helen said coolly. “We haven’t seen her in church at all since then.”

             
“It’s just over a month since her daddy died. She’s been busy,” Liz said.

             
“Well, I did read in today’s paper that she withdrew her name from consideration to head the Department of Transportation.” Helen said. “That surprised me.”

              Ears perked up
. Helen paused and her eyes lit up as she realized that she had information the others hadn’t heard. “I didn’t even know she was being considered, but I guess if you have the right name and the right contacts, you can pull the right strings.”

             
“Where did you see that, Helen?” Chase asked.

             
“It was in today’s paper, under Capitol News. There’s probably a copy still around.” Helen scanned the room.

             
Several issues of the papers were folded and tucked on top of the corner cupboard. Chase got up and walked over to retrieve one. They had all been too involved with wedding plans that morning to even look at the paper. He turned to the second page and read under the heading
Dobbs to get Transportation Board
several lines down…

There had been considerable speculation that the appointment

would go to Marjorie C. Kendall, the daughter of the recently

deceased Judge Corbett Kendall from Cedar Branch, however,

citing personal reasons, Ms. Kendall withdrew her name from consideration.

Everyone sat stunned. “What’s going on with Maggie?” Nat said. “I can’t imagine her passing up such an opportunity.”

Liz raised her eyebrows
. “I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”

Chapter Sixteen

              Liz pushed open the patio door to Cottonwoods with a tub of chicken salad in one hand and a basket of chocolate chip cookies in the other. The smell of homemade soup wafted across the room. Having arrived before Liz, Billie puttered in the kitchen in a hot pink apron with ruffles. Webster nestled into his usual corner of the sofa.

             
“When did she get home,” Liz asked.

             
“She told me on the phone it would be late. I didn’t ask
how late
, but I told her we’d be here with lunch. Let myself in. I don’t think the door’s been locked the whole time she was gone.”

             
Within minutes the sweet smell of whole wheat and Parmesan cheese filled the room. A few minutes later Maggie came halfway down the stairs and stared at Liz and Billie with a blank expression.

             
Both Liz and Billie did a double take. It had been two weeks since Liz had seen her at the café, but this was not the Maggie she remembered. Her black hair lay wet and limp across her shoulders. She wore a long, blue terry cloth robe with a sash tied at the waist. Her face appeared more angular that ever before. Without a hint of powder or blush she looked gaunt and colorless. Webster jumped to the floor and ran to the bottom of the stairs barking.

             
“Hush that, Webster,” Billie scolded. The Scottie stopped and then retreated.

             
“Something smells wonderful.”  Maggie took a deep breath, and came down the remaining stairs in her bare feet.

             
“Oh, you can thank Liz for this,” said Billie. “Come on over here and get something to eat and tell us all, Maggie. We’ve missed you.”

             
Liz sat speechless. The first thing to cross her mind was depression. Billie made a circle of plates and ushered everyone to the table. “Everyone, come sit and eat.”

With uncharacteristic obedience, Maggie walked over to the table and joined them. “It’s good to be home,” she said
. Things didn’t go as well as I’d hoped in Raleigh.”  Maggie picked up a strawberry off the salad.

             
“Tell us what happened,” Liz said.

             
Maggie let out a small grunt and rolled her eyes. “I suppose everyone saw my name in the paper?” 

             
“Of course,” Billie said. “What else do we have to talk about?”

             
“And rumors are flying.”

             
“Not so many, but we could start a few,” Liz said.

             
“The timing’s bad. I’m not up to the challenge right now.”

“Really?” Liz said, surprised
. Never before had Maggie shied away from a challenge: it was the sort of thing she usually relished.

             
Things got quiet. Maggie only picked at food she normally loved. Liz went to the kitchen counter to retrieve the chocolate chip cookies, and then put them in the middle of the table.

             
“Wow, homemade chocolate chip cookies,” Maggie said as she took a small bite, and put it down on her plate next to the uneaten salad and roll.

             
“Maggie,” Liz said. “You’re not eating. Do you feel all right?”

             
“I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately. A virus or something…it seems to come and go. I’m tired, that’s all.”

             
“Have you seen a doctor?” Liz asked. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake she did with the Judge, and shy away from asking questions.

             
“A psychiatrist?  Nope, I thought I could sit down and talk to Gill free of charge. He could tell me I’m experiencing post-traumatic stress or some such thing.”

It was a weak joke
. No one laughed.

             
“A regular doctor? A family physician or internal medicine doctor?” Liz pressed.

“I have,” she said, “since you’re so concerned
. They’re running tests. I should know something next week, but I think what I really need is just a lot of rest. My stamina’s gone.” She rose from the table with the cookie in hand and turned to go back upstairs. “Thanks for everything. That was really good.”