to mess with her? “How would you even know what Frannie’s chicken tastes like?” Amanda asked. “You’ve never tasted it. Until today, apparently.”
“Andy’s tasted it,” Mae said. “Maybe you thought nobody could tell, because you don’t eat chicken, but Andy tried Frannie’s chicken before he even worked at Mimi’s. And then right when he started. And it was different then. Really, really different.” Mae looked at Andy, who was still staring at the ground, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but here, a sentiment Amanda wholeheartedly agreed with.
He took a breath and looked at the camera, not Amanda. “It’s the same recipe,” he said. “Before I took the job at Mimi’s, I ate fried chicken everywhere. I studied it. And Frannie’s had a totally different flavor profile. Kind of a surprising one, actually. It was quite notably different. And now it’s exactly like Mimi’s.”
That night at Mimi’s, he’d taken her hand and drawn her in, and Amanda had gone. She’d felt welcome, relaxed, in a way she never had at Mimi’s. It felt right, being there with him, and she had leaned lazily back, sitting there on the counter, appreciating his broad back and the way his height matched hers as he turned toward the sink, with a pleasant sense of anticipation that she hadn’t felt in years. Did he really think she’d only gone in to steal a recipe? Her ears were ringing, a strange hum between her and the world, and the skin on her scalp prickled and crawled. Everything already felt wrong, and now it was tipping over into a point where she couldn’t feel at all.
“I didn’t— This is crazy. Why would I do that? That’s not why I—” The camera was on her.
Mae stared into her face. “First you and Nancy stole our chicken. Now you took Mimi’s recipe. You’ll do anything to win this.” She pointed to Andy. “Anything at all. You stole and you cheated and now you’re lying.”
“I don’t lie!” Mae knew that. She knew this couldn’t be true. Andy’s dark eyes met hers as she spoke, and before he looked away Amanda thought she saw a hurt and betrayal that mirrored her own feelings. What right did he have to feel that way? Looking at him, at Sabrina, Amanda could see that they really believed she had done this, and while Amanda didn’t know how Mae had pulled it off, she knew there wasn’t anyone else who would stand up for her. She had put her whole world in the hands of something that was now spiraling wildly out of control and threatening to take everything she had with it. She had to show them that she wasn’t the one who was hiding something—and there was only one thing she could say.
“You’re the one who lies, Mae. You say anything you have to— Your whole life is a lie! It’s all a sham, all this Mae Moore the organizer, Mae Moore ‘I can help you clean it up and live a beautiful life.’ You can’t help anybody! You can’t even help Mom, and if anybody ever needed help, it’s her, and you just leave her alone in her filth and her hoarding and don’t ever lift a finger.”
And Barbara didn’t lift a finger either. She would just let Mae ruin Amanda and Nancy if that’s what Mae wanted, and Nancy was too nice to stop them. There was nobody to protect Frannie’s except Amanda, and if everyone just knew, knew what she and Barbara were really like, they would never believe anything Mae or Barbara said, not about this, not about anything.
Mae hadn’t moved. Amanda could tell by the look on her sister’s face that she’d thought she was safe, that this was the one thing Amanda would never tell the world, but Amanda was done with pretending. She spun to face Sabrina. “Go look,” she said. “Go look at my mom’s house and just see. See if you can believe anything they say. They’re hiding things, both of them, all of them. Andy, too.” She shot an angry look at him, but he was still staring at the ground. He had to know about the house. Everybody in town knew. And everybody ought to know.
“Mom’s house doesn’t have anything to do with the recipe,” Mae said. “It’s totally”—she looked at Sabrina—“it’s beside the point. It’s the way she likes it. It’s nothing to do with Mimi’s, or me.”