Eggs Benedict Arnold (10 page)

Laura came on the phone.
“
Hey, Suzanne. Things still humming along at the Cackleberry Club?
”

“
Can
’
t complain,
”
said Suzanne.

“
Any chance I could get that recipe for oatmeal scones you guys served last week?
”
asked Laura.
“
They were
fantastic.
”

“
I
’
ll e-mail it to you,
”
said Suzanne.

“
Okay if I publish it?
”
asked Laura.

“
Sure,
”
said Suzanne.
“
Why not?
”

“
How about you write another tea column for us? Could
you get one done in about two weeks?
”

“
Can do,
”
said Suzanne.

“
We
’
re gonna do a nice write-up in Thursday
’
s paper on
your Take the Cake Show,
”
Laura told her.
“
Get even more
buzz going.
”

“
Appreciate that,
”
said Suzanne.

“
Okay then,
”
said Laura.
“
I
’
ll put Gene back on.
”

“
Oh, but you
’
re so much nicer than Gene,
”
Suzanne said
with a laugh.

“
Don
’
t pay any attention to him,
”
said Laura.
“
He
th
inks
he
’
s Dan Rather.
”
She laughed wickedly.

“
Or Dan Rather-not,
”
added Suzanne.

Chapter seven

Midafternoon
found Toni and Suzanne hunched over the butcher-block table in the kitchen, munching leftover tea sandwiches and sipping fresh-squeezed lemonade. Afternoon tea service was winding down in the cafe, with just a few
ladies
lingering over a final cup.

“
What did the nasty old dragon lady want?
”
asked Toni.

Suzanne giggled. She couldn
’
t help herself.
“
You
’
re referring to our dear Carmen Copeland?
”

“
Play nice, children,
”
warned Petra, as she stacked left
over scones into a large wicker basket.

“
Carmen brought in a poster to advertise her book sign
ing on Wednesday,
”
said Suzanne.

“
Big whoop,
”
said Toni.
“
I thought maybe she sashayed in to try to shanghai more workers for her snooty boutique.
”

“
She already did that to Missy,
”
Petra interjected. Then
she gazed worriedly at Suzanne.
“
You think Missy will be
okay?
”

“
Okay about Ozzie
’
s death or okay working for Carmen?
”
asked Suzanne.

“
Both, I suppose,
”
said Petra.

“
Missy will be fine,
”
Suzanne assured her.
“
She
’
s a survivor.
”

“
Like us,
”
said Toni.
“
Or more to the point, like you and
Petra.
”

“
Aren
’
t you sweet,
”
said Petra. She put her hands on her
ample hips and smiled at them.
“
Now that things have set
tled down to a dull roar, I
’
m going to take a batch of scones,
a jar of fig jam, and a big thermos of lemonade over to the
fellows who are working on the Journey
’
s End Church.
”
Last month, the church, which was just down the frontage
road from the Cackleberry Club, had been tragically torched
by an arsonist. Now the site had been cleared, a foundation
poured, and the church was slowly being rebuilt.

“
Need any help?
”
asked Toni. They all felt terrible about
what had happened to the church.

“
I
’
m fine,
”
said Toni, gathering everything up.
“
But my
heart just goes out to Reverend Yoder. Do you know, he
’
s been over there every day, wandering around nervously, trying to pitch in?
”

“
Traded in his reverend
’
s collar for a chambray work shirt,
”
said Suzanne.

“
Reverend Yoder
’
s just hoping the job will get done faster, I suppose,
”
said Toni.
“
Wouldn
’
t it be great if they
could finish the church in time for Christmas? I just hate to
think of those poor folks not being able to sing Christmas hymns in their own church.
”

“
I know,
”
said Petra.
“
But the unfortunate thing is, Rev
erend Yoder doesn
’
t know the difference between a Phil
lips-head screwdriver and a flat-head screwdriver.
”

Toni popped a last bit of sandwich into her mouth and declared,
“
Neither do I.
”

“
I suppose it
’
s the thought that counts,
”
continued Petra.
“
I love that he cares so passionately about getting his church rebuilt and bringing his congregation back to
gether.
”
On Suzanne
’
s invitation, the congregation had met
a few times at the Cackleberry Club. Now they were using
St. Sebastian
’
s Church at off hours. A nice ecumenical arrangement between two different religions.

Petra hadn
’
t been gone more than two minutes when
there was a loud, erratic banging on the swinging door that
separated the kitchen from the cafe.

Uh-oh,
thought Suzanne.
An unhappy customer?
She walked over, gave a tentative push on the door, and was startled to find a somber-looking Junior Garrett staring back at her.
“
Junior!
”
she exclaimed.

“
Aw crap,
”
muttered Toni. Only last week her estranged
husband had displayed a wandering eye for curvy-border
ing-on-chubby women who favored tight angora sweaters.
In other words, not Toni.

“
Toni back here?
”
Junior asked, shrugging back his dan
gling forelock, not even bothering with a polite hi-how-are-you.
“
Sure she is,
”
he scowled, answering his own question.
“
She
’
s always hangin
’
out at your little sorority
house. You girls probably have your own secret handshake
and decoder rings.
”

Toni lunged for Junior.
“
Don
’
t be an ass, Junior,
”
she said, swatting at his head.

“
Hey, lay off!
”
Junior cried, ducking as her fingernails
grazed him, then hastily retreating a few steps.

“
What do you want?
”
asked Toni, lunging again and,
this time, getting a firm grasp on the back of his shirt. She
twisted sharply, gathering fabric while she shoved Junior back out into the cafe and steered him to a seat at the counter.
“
And keep your voice down,
”
she hissed at him.
“
We still have customers.
”

“
Jeez,
”
said Junior, looking like a puppy who
’
d just been
walloped with a rolled-up newspaper for making doo-doo
on the floor.
“
I just dropped by to say hi.
”

“
Hi,
”
said Toni through gritted teeth.

“
Now good-bye,
”
Suzanne said, airily.

“
No need to give me the bum
’
s rush,
”
complained Junior.
“
I just wanna get something to eat.
”
He turned inno
cent eyes on both of them.
“
I been working since five this
morning.
”

“
A quick bite and then you
’
ll leave?
”
asked Suzanne. She wasn
’
t fond of Junior Garrett, and she knew he wasn
’
t
good for Toni. Treated her like a doormat. Cheated on her,
too. Only problem was ... Toni wavered between wanting a divorce and having second thoughts about getting back together with Junior. Lot of that going around these days.

“
I
suppose we could spare a sandwich or two,
”
Toni told
him, ripping Junior
’
s trucker
’
s cap from his head and plop
ping it on the counter in front of him, like she was lining up
Exhibit A for the jury.

“
You
’
ll settle for leftovers?
”
asked Suzanne, relenting some.

“
Sure,
”
said Junior.
“
Whatever.
”

“
You
’
ll get whatever,
”
breathed
Toni.

But when they brought Junior a plate of tea sandwiches
and a scone, he peeled the top slice off his sandwich and stared suspiciously at the chicken salad.
“
What
’
s this?
”
he demanded.
“
Don
’
t you girls got anything fresher?
”

“
When you
’
re getting something for free,
”
said Toni,
“
you take what
’
s set in front of you and don
’
t make a fuss.
”

“
Hey,
”
protested Junior,
“
I can
pay
for this. I just got myself a brand-new job.
”