The Chicken Sisters - K.J. Dell'Antonia Page 0,50

she, as always, was heading home with the kids. Reluctantly, she got up to follow Gus out, but Sabrina, back from Mimi’s and still going strong, stopped her. “Gus can drive, right?”

Amanda nodded.

“Let me take you home, then. Stay and debrief. I want to hear everything.”

It was a tempting idea, and Gus seconded it, hefting his sister into a better piggyback position on his back while she shrieked.

“We’ll just go home, Mom. You stay. It’s okay. Frankie needs her beauty sleep,” he said. That earned him a swat on the head from Frankie as he hauled her out, leaving Amanda behind.

Sabrina was describing the night at Mimi’s. “They ran out of all the pie except banana, and someone offered your aunt Aida a hundred dollars to make her a chocolate cream to take home, and she gave her this look and said, ‘Young woman, I do not bake the pies. I present them.’ I just love her—she’s perfect. And your town is really coming out for this. I had to stop that one big guy from talking to the camera at both places.” She grinned. “I showed Mae your drink specials. She said they didn’t have anything to do with anything, but Andy and your mom laughed.”

Nancy, coming in with fresh bar towels, raised her eyebrows, and then a look of understanding rolled over her face. “Oh,” she said. “I get it now. I was kind of wondering why all the New York stuff. You were trying to get at Mae.” She shook her head at Amanda. “It’s not about Mae, Amanda. It’s about Mimi’s and Frannie’s.”

“I know,” said Amanda. “It was just a joke.” She could feel her high slipping. But it was a joke. And clearly everyone had loved the drink specials—Mary Laura’s beer pitcher tip jar with its COWS HATE BEING TIPPED, BUT BARTENDERS DON’T sign was stuffed to overflowing.

“I get it,” said Nancy. “Just don’t take it too far. We don’t need”—she cast an unexpected glance at Sabrina—“any family drama.”

Damn it, now Nancy was managing to sound like Mae. Amanda stared down at her drink, and her mother-in-law handed Mary Laura the bar towels. Mary Laura set them on the bar and offered Nancy a glass.

“To a Frannie’s victory,” Mary Laura said, toasting cheerfully—hoping, Amanda suspected, to break up the mood. Nancy toasted, then slid her glass, still mostly full, back to Mary Laura. “One to hand wash, then,” she said, “so we don’t start the day tomorrow with any dirties. I trust you’ll all clean up after yourselves. I’m going to bed. Amanda, honey, are you sure you don’t want me to run you home?”

After a glance at Sabrina, Amanda shook her head. Nancy was clearly going to pour cold water on her with a lecture about keeping things professional, but Amanda thought the little dig at Mae was funny and clever and well within the bounds of making Food Wars fun without “drama.” “I’ll get a ride,” she said.

Nancy, still looking dubious, headed for the parking lot.

Sitting at the bar while Sabrina quizzed Mary Laura about her love life, off camera, Amanda felt deflated. Why couldn’t Nancy just enjoy this? She ought to know Amanda could poke her sister a little without it turning into a big deal, and it wasn’t like Mae hadn’t said plenty about Frank and Frannie’s over the years. Amanda shoved the thought of her arguably explosive revelation about Mae’s stripper past firmly out of her head. Frannie’s would win, it would all be over, and there would be no drama.

Amanda sighed and tuned back in to the conversation around her to find Mary Laura and Sabrina both looking at her quizzically.

“What’s up?” Mary Laura asked, “Did we not have an excellent time tonight? Are we still not having an excellent time?”

“Nothing. We did. We still are.” She pushed her glass toward Mary Laura, who filled it before gesturing toward Sabrina with the shaker.

Sabrina covered her glass and shook her head, and with a flourish, Mary Laura emptied the rest into Amanda’s glass. “Excellent,” Sabrina said. “What we need now is somewhere to continue the party, and someone to continue it with.”

Mary Laura laughed. “There’s nowhere to go around here,” she said. “Pull up a stool. We’re the only game in town, and normally we’d have closed an hour ago.”

Nowhere to go, and nobody to go with. Amanda sighed again. “As usual, I’ll be heading home to my buddy Ben and my buddy Jerry.” She took too big a sip

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