Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12) - Dorothea Benton Frank Page 0,33

lucky about that. I hurried back to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat at the table across from her.

“There’s an explanation,” I said and told her the whole story.

“You girls really are out of your minds. It will never work.”

“Why not?”

“Because according to Holly, he’s already in love with this horrible Sharon, whoever she is. What you need is a spy.”

“Why?”

“My dentist retired and moved to Florida. I need to find a new dentist. Get this woman’s last name and I’ll go see her, you know, nose around a bit. Save your virtue for the moment. Or at least try to. I’ll get the story on her. Go get your sister. We’ve got work to do.”

“Okay. But I’m bringing him dinner tonight,” I said.

“Then bring the boys over here to decorate cookies or something. That will give you some space to get a read on him. Your sister’s so naïve sometimes. She probably just saw them looking at each other with googly eyes. It’s a long way from googly eyes to the altar. Let me think this through a little bit. Leslie?”

“Yes?”

“This is the most exciting thing that’s happened around here in years!”

“Well, it certainly is a nice diversion for me. I have to get back in the game anyway. This is as good a place to start as any other.”

“Leslie?”

“Yes, Momma?”

“I know you. You’re hot-blooded. Try not to disgrace the family. Please?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was nothing like the safety and happiness of children to unite women in a cause, even if they had disparate personalities and goals. Holly, who stopped in to see about the kids after school, found Sharon’s business card on Archie’s desk and copied down the number and address for Momma. Momma made an appointment for the following day. Holly was shocked beyond belief that Momma was actually leaving the house and even more dumbfounded that she was getting involved in our scheme. I knew Momma’s life had become super dull since I married Charlie, but I kept that to myself. Holly was hurt enough as it was.

But Holly was a trouper. She worked her shift at Publix and brought home all the groceries we needed for a great meal.

We spent the rest of the afternoon making chicken parmigiana, which most children love. Then I made a salad of mozzarella balls and the tiniest cherry tomatoes I’d ever seen. And Holly had brought home Pepperidge Farm frozen garlic bread, which is my total favorite. Holly threw together a chocolate cake with a layer of marshmallows inside, which we knew the boys would love. In the end it was decided that the boys would definitely have dinner with Momma and Holly, and I, the family’s pinch hitter, would take a picnic over to Archie. And Holly had bought a decent bottle of red wine, hoping it would loosen his tongue and make him want to talk to me.

“You’ve got to get him to tell you all about Sharon and bring him to his senses,” Holly said.

“Yes,” Momma said, “you’ve got to make him see that Sharon is a terrible choice, most especially because of the impact she’ll have on his children. If you can’t get past first base with him, ask him what he thinks Carin would want for her children. Guilt is a good weapon.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Hopefully, I’ll get to home plate.”

Surely, Sharon didn’t have any real assets that I didn’t? I mean, I knew Archie taught world religions and that she was a dentist. Those two professions were galaxies apart. I couldn’t see what they could have in common beyond carnal desire. So, around four that afternoon, I took the hot shower of my life, shampooed, shaved, tweezed, moisturized, perfumed, and boofed myself into my former, younger single self, and packed up dinner. Cleopatra could not have put any more intention and effort into the seduction of Mark Antony. The only things I didn’t have were a CD of Barry White’s and a scented candle.

Momma had been giggling all day at the prospect of how Archie would react to being alone with me. Holly was less enthused, but that was understandable. When they saw me, they stopped and exhaled a whoosh of surprise and anxiety.

“You’ve got this, sister,” Holly said.

“Poor bastard doesn’t stand a chance,” Momma said.

“Thanks, ladies.”

It was almost go time. If Holly was right, this might be our only bite of the apple. If she was wrong, I’d have a good time messing with Archie’s head

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