The Cherry Cola Book Club - By Ashton Lee Page 0,30
Melanie.”
“I’m just curious,” Becca said. “What was the final total on that? I mean, how many Melanies and how many Scarletts did we end up with?”
Maura Beth scanned the notes she had scribbled throughout the proceedings and emerged chuckling under her breath. “It’s not all that clear, actually. I have Connie down as a Melanie, Becca and Miss Voncille as Scarletts—although with reservations in my estimation—and myself as a work in progress.”
“That’s hedging,” Becca insisted. “Here in the South we always take a stand. It’s in the lyrics of ‘Dixie,’ you know.” She began humming the tune until she got to the proper spot in the chorus and then began singing. “ ‘. . . in Dixie Land I’ll take my stand, to live and die in Dixie . . .’ ”
“Point well-taken,” Maura Beth replied. “Very Gone with the Wind, as a matter of fact. Okay, then, I’ll err on the side of Melanie for myself. Just for the time being, though. I have lots of things to accomplish before I’m thirty.”
“Tell me everything, girl!” Periwinkle exclaimed after her last customer had left a little past nine. She had just flipped the blue-sequined sign hanging on the front door of The Twinkle from OPEN to CLOSED. “Did anybody get tipsy on my sherry custard? It’s actually happened before. Some precious little ole lady had two of ’em one night, and it took a coupla grown men to escort her out the door. Maybe I should put a customer warning on the dessert menu.”
Maura Beth laughed as they claimed a table in the middle of the room. “No, I think your custard went down smoothly. No hiccups, just raves. My ooey, gooey, chocolate, cherry cola sheet cake was a winner, too.”
Periwinkle settled in, leaning forward with her gum going a mile a minute. “Okay, enough about the food. How did the meeting go? Was Councilman Supremo there throwing off his usual sparks?”
“Oh, yes. Dressed to the nines, too. He looked like he was going to a wedding. Or maybe he was supposed to be the groom. But he behaved, for the most part. Or let’s just say, I handled every curve ball he threw me. He even blew me a kiss, believe it or not. He’s an odd duck, that one. Anyway, I’m here to tell you that The Cherry Cola Book Club took flight without a hitch this evening. Everyone contributed in a meaningful way, and we ended up with two Scarletts and two Melanies. Oh, and a Rhett!”
“As in Butler?”
“As in Mr. Locke Linwood demanding that I ask him if he was a Rhett or an Ashley. It was so cute, and he’s now officially a member.”
Periwinkle eyed her intently. “Well, I guess you know I’m in the bunch with Scarlett branded across their foreheads. I’m too feisty to be anything else.”
“Scarlett on steroids, perhaps?”
Periwinkle drew back playfully. “Now, sweetie, I’m one of the good guys, remember?”
“Just kidding, of course. I definitely need more of your spine. Anyway, we got a lot accomplished tonight, including all the important decisions for the next meeting. Before we adjourned, we put it to a vote and decided that we’d be reading To Kill a Mockingbird this coming month. We’ll be getting together on the evening of September 19th, as a matter of fact.” Maura Beth gave her friend a hopeful look for emphasis.
“I still don’t see how I can swing it, honey,” Periwinkle insisted, reacting instantly to the unspoken appeal. “Let’s put it this way. If my restaurant bid’ness is going great guns and I’ve got standing room only all the time, then I simply won’t have the time to participate in the club. And if I have so much slack that I can loll around reading and choosing which fictional characters I most resemble, then I’m in deep . . . well, let’s just be ladylike about it and settle for the term . . . financial trouble. Does that make sense?”
“Of course. But I was thinking just the other day about your restaurant and my library—particularly about how busy you are. Not to mention that long drive you make round-trip every day to and from The Twinkle. I mean, your house is halfway between Cherico and Corinth. Don’t you get bored at times?”
Periwinkle shrugged. “Just part of making a living, honey.”
“What if I could spice things up a bit for you?”
“What do you suggest? Cumin, paprika, or something stronger like cayenne pepper? I’ve got ’em all on the shelf.”