The Cherry Cola Book Club - By Ashton Lee Page 0,5
by the way?”
“I’m the ultimate mystery buff. But I only like the polite kind where they figure out everything over tea and buttered scones. No bloody, gory, true crime forensics for me. When Agatha Christie died, I went into literary mourning for months. No more Miss Marple padding around the village of St. Mary Mead stumbling onto murders committed by the landed gentry, what ho! Or Hercule Poirot waxing his mustache, for that matter.”
Maura Beth laughed and was about to reply when Periwinkle reappeared with a small paper bag and handed it over to Connie. “Your aspics are just as snug as oysters in the shell in their little plastic containers in there. Just don’t brake for any squirrels on the way home, and they should hold their shape nicely.”
“Here’s seven bucks, and keep the change as usual,” Connie said, chuckling while she proffered a bill she had just retrieved from her purse.
“Much appreciated again, honey,” Periwinkle replied, tucking the money into her apron pocket.
Then Connie leaned into Maura Beth as if they had been the best of friends for the longest time. “Don’t you just love these tomato aspics? I was hooked the first time I bit into one and got a mouthful of that sinful cream cheese that was hiding in the middle. Douglas makes me get them now practically every other night for our dinner. That’s all we seem to eat these days—aspic and whatever fish he catches that day out on the lake. That I end up cleaning, by the way. Some retirement—I’ve spent most of it so far with stringers and fish scalers. Maybe I need to put my foot down.”
“I don’t know about that, but you’ve single-handedly turned tomato aspic into my biggest seller,” Periwinkle added. Suddenly, she began giggling and couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m sorry,” she continued finally, “but I just thought of what a difficult time I had selling my aspic when I first opened up. No one would ever order it, and I couldn’t figure out why. I knew there was nothing wrong with my recipe. It was my mother’s, and everybody in the family always raved about it. Then one day the mystery was solved when one of my customers, a very polite older man visiting down here from somewhere in Ohio, complimented me on the food on the way out. But he also said, ‘Just to satisfy my curiosity, could you tell me what icepick salad is? Your waitress recommended it as an appetizer, but it sounded pretty dangerous to me, so I passed on it. I’ve just spent a fortune having most of my teeth capped.’ ”
Both Maura Beth and Connie looked halfway between amused and bewildered as Periwinkle caught her breath once again.
“I know, ladies. I had that same expression on my face when that dear little man asked me that question. The deal is, there’s a certain type of Southern accent where people pronounce words like nasty as ‘nicety,’ glass becomes ‘glice,’ cancer turns into ‘kindsuh,’ and, of course, aspic winds up as ‘icepick.’ Maybe you’ve run into somebody who does that. Anyway, my waitress at the time, Bonnie Lee Fentress, was the sweetest little thing, but that’s the way she spoke, and she had no idea she was scaring people to death when she mentioned that item on the menu and left it at that. So I sat down with her and straightened out her diction, and lo and behold, my aspic was reborn. The rest is delicious history.”
“I most certainly agree with that,” Connie said while glancing at her watch. “Oh, I still have a million things to do, ladies. Let me run now. So nice visiting with you both.”
“Don’t forget about your library card!” Maura Beth called out as Connie exited as quickly as she had entered, hurling a muffled, “Will do!” from out on the sidewalk.
“I really like her,” Periwinkle said as she and Maura Beth resumed their seats. “She may be living high on the hog out on the lake, but she’s the salt of the earth—just my type.”
Maura Beth was gazing at her tea in silence and let a few awkward moments go by. “Oh, yes, I know she’ll be a welcome addition to Cherico, particularly since she’s a reader,” she finally offered, coming to. “I must track her down if she doesn’t keep her word and come by for that card. She’s given me an idea that might help the library out. It came to me just this