The Cherry Cola Book Club - By Ashton Lee Page 0,76

Beth focused in again. “Not a show went by when she didn’t mention you. We thought it might be something fun and different to do. We hadn’t thought about the library in years.”

Maura Beth beamed. “Well, I’m so pleased you decided to come. Meanwhile, if you’d like to meet and chat with Becca, she’s the short blonde standing next to the big guy in the cowboy boots over at the buffet table. And, yes, that’s her Stout Fella in all his downsized glory.”

The trio thanked her and headed over, making all sorts of excited noises under their breath.

Maura Beth began to feel more comfortable. The head count had risen to fourteen, not counting the club members and the councilmen. Could a respectable number be far behind?

In fact, a steady succession began to stream in. Terra Munrow was all possessive smiles introducing her boyfriend with the conspicuous but undecipherable tattoo on his neck. “This is my Ricky I’ve been telling you about, Maura Beth. Do you have any books he could check out about motorcycles since he’s a biker and all?”

“We sure do. I’d be happy to help you locate them any time you come in, Ricky. And by the way, Terra, we probably have a romance novel or two with guys on motorcycles in the plot.”

“Doubly righteous!” Ricky exclaimed while raising a fist in the air; then the two of them were off to the buffet table.

But nothing compared with the group of ten led by James Hannigan that showed up next from The Cherico Market. Once again, as Maura Beth had surmised, finding convenient parking spaces had been the culprit for their tardiness.

“We all ended up two streets over. I kept hoping you wouldn’t start without us,” Mr. Hannigan concluded.

“I wouldn’t have dreamed of it.”

Then Mr. Hannigan leaned in with another of his friendly winks. “Good. Because we wanted to support our Peanut Butter Cracker Lady at all costs. And it turns out I’ve got some readers in the store. They just haven’t made the time to find their way to the library before. Guess you lit a fire under ’em with your book club to-do.”

When The Cherico Market contingent had finally dispersed, Maura Beth realized that the head count was inching toward thirty. They were probably going to need more chairs—and quickly. So she temporarily abandoned her station and hurried across the room to enlist Renette’s help.

“Put down your plate for now, sweetie,” she told her. “We’re going to be scrambling around after all. Quick, think. How many more chairs do we have in the closet?”

Renette squinted for a moment, moving her lips as she counted. “I think six, maybe seven of the folding. Oh, but we have eight more with the soft cushions in the meeting room.”

“Good catch!” Maura Beth exclaimed. “I forgot about those.”

“If this keeps up, looks like you’ll get your standing room only wish,” Renette added as they headed toward the closet.

Nor was Maura Beth’s urgency unwarranted. At least a dozen more people came through the front door. Among Connie’s lakeside neighbors, the Brimleys and the Milners kept their promises to attend. Then Mr. Place walked in with his mother, who was a bit on the fragile side but still had kind, sparkling eyes.

“I’m Ardenia Bedloe,” she said to Maura Beth while extending her hand and smiling graciously. “I know you’re not confused by that because my son told you all about changing his name, but I just wanted to thank you for introducing him to Miz Lattimore down at The Twinkle.”

“Oh, my friend Periwinkle is deliriously happy with all those delicious pastries he makes. His éclairs have been wowing everyone this evening, including myself.”

Mr. Place thanked her and then suddenly spotted Miss Voncille across the room. “Mama, I’d like to go speak to someone over by the food table and introduce her to you after all these years. She’s the lady standing next to the white-haired gentleman.”

Ardenia trained her thick glasses in the direction of his index finger. “Who is she, baby?”

“Miss Voncille Nettles, my history teacher that first year Cherico High was integrated.”

“Oh, yes,” Ardenia replied, a smile exploding across her face. “I remember now. You liked her best.”

“Please go on over and make yourselves at home,” Maura Beth added. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you both. And help yourselves to the food and drink.”

Among the last six or seven people that showed, two more cited Becca’s radio program as their inspiration, while the others credited a flyer from such