have a few good memories from those years. After her dad was gone, most of the time Elaine just screamed at her for not paying the bills or for not having her favorite food in the trailer.
“You open that bottle right now,” Lucy demanded.
“Okay, but I thought you were going to church tonight to flirt with the preacher.” She pushed back her chair, disappeared into the foyer, and returned with a big bottle of red wine. “I’m giving you this because you are my friend, but you know very well you can’t drink.”
“Enough already. I’ve got on my big-girl panties, and I can decide things on my own. Now pass those meatballs,” Lucy said.
Dotty opened the bottle and set it on the table, close enough that Lucy could reach it. Then she returned to her seat and picked up the beans. “I’ve always loved green beans made this way, and no one makes rice as fluffy as Lucy. Not even my Louisiana grandmother, and she cooked it every day. I remember when she came to Texas the first time and we had potatoes twice a day. She told me the day she left that she could never live in a place where the people lived on potatoes.”
“Thank you.” Lucy’s tone was still a little strained. “My granny was from over the line, too. She taught me to make it, and it goes so well with Flossie’s meatballs.”
“Yes, it does,” Tucker agreed.
An intervention. A talkin’-to. Whatever it was called, Jolene felt guilty that she hadn’t coerced her mother into the vehicle and driven her to the Magnolia. Aunt Sugar would have taken things in hand, and maybe, just maybe, Elaine would have gotten dried out from all the drugs and alcohol.
“I just got my first bite of green beans. Is that Creole seasoning that I taste?” Jolene asked.
“Might be a little, but that’s not the whole secret.” Lucy refilled her glass and took a long sip. “This is better than the last. What is it?”
“Blackberry,” Dotty said. “I thought it would go well with dessert.”
“Not as well as beer. I like it. Reminds me of that time when the four of us were teenagers and we found that bottle of strawberry Boone’s Farm wine in the Big Cypress Bayou, back behind the Magnolia.” Lucy giggled.
“We drank it all and then washed the bottle out with a little water and drank that, too,” Flossie said.
“And you . . .” Dotty pointed at Lucy. “You were the only one of us who got drunk.”
“I did not. It was all psychological. I didn’t know how much it took to get drunk, and I just talked myself into thinkin’ I’d had too much,” Lucy argued.
“One more glass and she’ll get funny,” Flossie whispered to Jolene.
“And then?”
“Hopefully she’ll see that she’s not an evil person for sleeping with her boyfriends, and that they don’t die or break up with her because she’s not good enough in bed. And we won’t have to go to some church where we don’t know the people next week,” Flossie explained out of the side of her mouth.
“What are you whispering about?” Lucy asked.
“We’re trying to figure out what else is in these green beans,” Jolene said.
Lucy stuck her thin nose in the air. “I might tell the preacher tonight, but I’m not tellin’ y’all. You’ve been hateful today.”
“And here it is Sunday, when we’re supposed to love everyone,” Tucker piped up from the head of the table.
“That’s right, sweet boy. I knew you had a good heart hidin’ in that sexy chest of yours,” Lucy said as she finished off the second glass of wine and poured another one. “Did you know that we had to have an intervention for Dotty?”
“I did.” Tucker gave her his full attention.
“Let me tell you about it. She was drinkin’ too much, so we had to take matters in our own hands.” Lucy nodded with every word. “Know what we did?” She frowned as if she was trying to remember something.
“We had a long talk with her, but in those days, no one ever heard of an intervention,” Flossie said.
“I was tellin’ the story.” Lucy pouted. “After we talked to her, I thought we needed a preacher to pray over her, but it was Thursday night and there wasn’t a church service going on.”
Dotty shivered. “It was a tent revival over the border in the Louisiana boonies. I half expected the preacher to bring out a dead chicken. I told Sugar if he let