and now we’re taking care of our own.”
Edith Archer appeared behind Mims. She looked as unkempt as a doll stuck in the crack of a couch for too long—mussed short gray hair, wrinkled yellow polo and blue jeans, and that sad air of abandonment that Lola had felt all year. “I want to join the Widows Club.”
“Not now,” Mims said tightly without turning. “It hasn’t been six months.”
“That’s a rule,” Clarice shouted as Bitsy pulled Lola free of the booth.
“I don’t care.” Edith looked as empty as Lola felt. She elbowed her way into the center of the clustered women. “My husband’s dead. My dog is dead. And I feel dead. I need something to do.”
“I can take Lola home,” Drew said wearily. He pushed his plate away, burger unfinished. “Edith needs you ladies.”
Before Lola could refuse, Clarice blocked the sheriff with her walking stick. “Now, Sheriff. We don’t want Lola to be taken advantage of. You shouldn’t kiss on the first date, much less get past the front door.”
“All I said was I can drive Lola home.” Drew held up his hands in surrender. “No passes were planned. Remember, I didn’t even want to buy her.”
Lola lifted her chin above her wounded pride. “The Widows Club is driving me home.”
“We’ll discuss this later, Edith.” Mims signaled the rest of them toward the exit. “We’re leaving.”
“Not without me.” Edith was adamant, dogging Mims.
On the way out, Lola stopped by Avery’s table to make sure she didn’t need saving and to tell her she was going home. Avery didn’t look pleased with her date, an attractive man with thick curly hair, but she assured Lola everything was fine.
A few minutes later, Lola was jammed in the back of Clarice’s minivan and stuck between Mims and Edith. Clarice drove as if they’d robbed a bank and were in the getaway vehicle, making Lola wish she’d accepted a ride from Drew.
“This is Widows Club business.” Mims wielded that I’m-in-control voice like a stock trader on Wall Street. “I’m not sure why you came, Edith.”
“I’m a widow.” Edith sounded more confident than before, possibly because she hadn’t been left behind. “Just because we’ve had our differences in the past, Mims, doesn’t mean you can bar me from the club.”
“Differences?” sputtered Mims.
“I won Charlie fair and square fifty years ago.” Edith patted Lola’s knee and said, sweet as you please, “Lola, did you fill out your Widows Club paperwork? If not, can we do it together?”
Mims growled like a wounded predator.
“I’ve done no paperwork, but I don’t think I should be a member.” Which seemed disloyal when the board had been so timely getting Lola out of the bar. “Randy was sleeping around. And before I commit to the Widows Club, I’m going to find out if he loved me.”
“Good for you.” Edith patted Lola’s knee again.
“We encourage forgiveness and moving on,” Mims said.
“Forgiveness?” Edith bumped into Lola’s shoulder on a sharp turn. “If Charlie had cheated on me, I’d want the slut to hang from her toenails in the town square.”
“Really?” Mims jerked sideways in her seat, snarling at Edith. “Is that the advice you’d give a young widow?”
“Yes. I’d want to know all the details.” Edith’s outraged voice filled the minivan. “I’d go see Madame LeClaire to talk to Charlie from the afterlife and get the truth.”
“Dead husbands tell no tales,” Mims intoned.
Lola was open to asking the afterlife for answers, seeing as how she was getting so little from the living. “And while I had Randy on a spiritual line, I’d ask him where things went wrong.”
“Do not take the blame for Randy’s actions,” Mims said in her commanding voice.
“Now, Mims,” Bitsy said from the front passenger seat. “Don’t dismiss the healing power of talking to the dead. I find great comfort sitting graveside.” She’d been widowed three times and was always as friendly and composed as a saint. “I talk to Jim about financial matters. I talk to Terry about house upkeep. And I talk to Wendell about being lonely.” This last revelation was drenched with unmistakable longing.
“What are we talking about?” Clarice asked in her loudest voice.
Bitsy leaned across the front seat divide and shouted, “Visiting our husbands at the cemetery.”
“Oh. Sometimes when I visit Fritz’s headstone and tell him my problems, I can almost hear him answer back.” Clarice sent the tires squealing as she turned the corner onto Skyview Drive.
There was a moment of silence, almost like a silent amen, either because all the older widows agreed with