The Cherry Cola Book Club - By Ashton Lee Page 0,56
eyes at her and smirked like a mischievous little boy. “I think I’m chicken.”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t be such a big baby. If you could watch your artery being unclogged on a TV monitor from start to finish without flinching, you can certainly slurp up a tiny bowl of bland soup. Here, I’ll even feed you.” And she proceeded to do just that, while her husband made a gallery of ungainly faces even as he swallowed every spoonful guided toward his mouth.
It was out on the deck overlooking Paul and Susan McShay’s vast backyard in the wealthy Nashville suburb of Brentwood that Maura Beth was getting ready to hold a brainstorming session about the future of the book club. That revved-up campaign she had envisioned would start here in earnest. The evening was still young and the air invigorating after a delicious menu in the formal dining room of baked chicken, smashed potatoes, and sautéed green beans that Susan had prepared for all of her guests. Now it was time to get down to business.
“I can only stay for about twenty minutes,” Becca told Maura Beth as the gathering seated themselves around a rustic picnic table with their after-dinner drinks in hand. “Stout Fella is expecting me back at the hospital around eight, of course.”
Then Douglas chimed in. “I’m going with her, and not just because she doesn’t know her way around. Becca says Justin wants to shoot the breeze with me about the NFL, the college game, and other manly topics. So far, he says, they’ve refused to give him an injection of testosterone.”
“You’d think this was just another day at the office, and his heart crisis had never happened,” Becca said, waving Douglas off.
Maura Beth smiled as she quietly surveyed the friends she hoped would be sending her back to Cherico with a successful strategy to keep her library open. Connie, Douglas, and Becca, she had expected to consult, but the Brentwood McShays were an unexpected bonus.
“You might like to know that Susan and Paul are still in The Music City Page Turners,” Connie had told Maura Beth at the dinner table. “The three of us were almost half of the founding members, and we all know what it takes to make a success of one of these clubs. Douglas and I brought them up to date on what you’re trying to do in Cherico, and they think it’s fantastic.”
One thing had led to another, and by the time the dessert of chocolate mousse with whipped cream and a cherry on top was served, Susan had committed herself and her husband to the confab out on the deck later on. “That is, unless you’d rather just have your Cherry Cola people only,” she had added at the last second.
But Maura Beth had quickly reassured her. “Heavens, no! I need as much brainpower as I can round up!”
The Brentwood McShays certainly appeared to have the right credentials for offering intelligent advice. Paul was a taller, more distinguished-looking version of his brother and had recently retired from teaching psychology at Vanderbilt, while the stylish, model-thin Susan still ran her own crafts boutique at the Cool Springs Galleria south of Brentwood. The most important thing from Maura Beth’s point of view, however, was that they were both fans of the printed word and would therefore be sympathetic to her cause.
“Time is growing short,” Maura Beth began, officially opening the informal meeting. “The Cherico Library’s days may be numbered unless we can drastically increase interest in The Cherry Cola Book Club. And also get more people to use their library cards.” Then she offered a blow-by-blow of her most recent encounters with Councilman Sparks, but particularly his offer to take her out of the library business and appoint her his decorative gatekeeper.
“Something about that bothers me,” Connie said. “Why doesn’t he just shut everything down and let you go your merry way? Or should I say unhappy way?”
Maura Beth decided to hold nothing back. “The truth is, though, I’m not really unhappy. I want to make a go of my job in Cherico because I like the place. There are probably a thousand reasons I shouldn’t, but I do. As for why he hasn’t shut the library down by now to cut his losses, I don’t know. That continues to puzzle me. But these local politicians are a law unto themselves.”
“Would you like to have an ex-college professor’s opinion?” Paul McShay offered, leaning in her general direction.