The Cherry Cola Book Club - By Ashton Lee Page 0,68
replied. “Everyone in the club is certainly doing their part.” And then they were off to join the crowd at the buffet table.
But it was when Jeremy finally returned from the visit with his mother that Maura Beth realized the evening would end up being about far more than the library’s future.
“Mom wanted a blow-by-blow of how it was going with you,” he told her. “She said she was getting tired of trying to read our lips and body language from a discreet distance. Typical mother, huh?”
Maura Beth flashed a smile and couldn’t help batting her eyelashes coyly. “And what did you tell her?”
“I said that I wanted very much to see you again and that I hoped you felt the same way. And I didn’t mean just for the Mockingbird review.”
At first Maura Beth said nothing, playing at building the suspense, but she couldn’t sustain it for long. “When you have a weekend free of field trips, please give me a call. I think I’d like to discuss everything under the sun with you.”
Then they both just stood there, locking eyes and letting that and their smiles do all the talking.
Becca’s contribution to promoting The Cherry Cola Book Club had been going splendidly in the weeks since the brainstorming in Brentwood, even if it was a constant hassle to keep Stout Fella focused on the over-the-air role he had been assigned. This particular frosty October morning was no exception.
“Just one more week on the air, sweetheart,” she was saying to him as they enjoyed their healthful breakfast of cereal, fresh fruit, yogurt, and coffee at the kitchen table.
He glanced at his watch and groaned. “Why couldn’t you have gotten you an afternoon radio show? I’m so tired of getting up at six to get to the station on time.”
“It’s part of the price you have to pay for being a radio personality,” she quipped, after swallowing a spoonful of her Cheerios and sliced bananas. “And you, my dear husband—minus all that weight you’ve lost so far—are helping my program and Maura Beth’s library at the same time. You can catch up on your sleep later, and, believe me, I’ll see to it that you do.”
He leaned back in his chair and briefly glanced down at his significantly reduced girth, the result of the nutrition regimen and exercise program that had been prescribed for him before he’d come home from Nashville over a month ago. “It still seems like apples and oranges to me. I mean, a Pulitzer Prize–winning novel and weight loss don’t exactly go together. Unless, you get so caught up in reading it that you forget to eat.”
Becca took a sip of her coffee and chuckled softly. “That’s a cute idea for a diet. And who knows—it just might work. But you’ve finished To Kill a Mockingbird now, and you said you really enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to imagine that things were really like that at one time. Kinda opens your eyes.”
Becca pointed her index finger in his general direction. “Now you’ve got it. That’s what Maura Beth wants us to concentrate on during the meeting. How much things have changed here in the South since the novel came out. So if one of my listeners comes up to you and compliments you on sticking with my downsizing program, you just shake up the bottle and get all bubbly about The Cherry Cola Book Club.” She swallowed more Cheerios and continued, “Now, have you gone over this morning’s script yet?”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Yes, ma’am. If you’d like to rehearse it with me right now, your Stout Fella aims to please.”
She put down her cup, glanced at her own copy on the table, and gave him the go-ahead with a nod. “That’s more like it. Okay, we’ll skip over my intro—yada, yada, yada. ‘And how are we feeling this morning, Stout Fella?’ ”
He began a line reading that was short on enthusiasm but technically correct. “Why, hello there, Miz Becca Broccoli! I’m feeling on top a’ the world, mostly due to your downsizing regimen. So, what delicious recipe are we gonna fix up today for all the good folks listening out there in our beloved Greater Cherico?”
“This one’s a real crowd pleaser. How does a honey mustard turkey burger strike you?”
His energy level picked up a tad bit, if only because it was difficult to deliver the next line without sounding excited. “Bam! Pow! It knocks me out! But