A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,26
etiquette before we tried this again.
Missy, in savior mode, quickly spoke up. “Speaking of souls. I come from a line of Soul Keepers. Old wives’ tale in my family.”
“You do?” Tim asked with such great interest it made the hair on my neck stand up.
“Yep,” she said with a laugh. “As the story goes, I’m a descendent of Marie Laveau. Although, my parents railed against the voodoo magic in our family tree by becoming over-the-top Christian.”
This was the point when Birdie lost her damned mind. She began circling Missy like a mini dead tornado.
“Snake handling?” Tim inquired. “Speaking in tongues?”
“Yep and yep,” Missy said.
Birdie screeched unintelligibly at a volume I was sure would bring the rest of the squatters downstairs.
With a concealed snap of her fingers, Heather was able to mute Birdie’s wails. But she couldn’t stop the specter’s frantic movement. Acting normal was growing increasingly difficult.
“I get these feelings sometimes,” Missy said, tilting her head to the side in thought. “Like now. I feel an icy wind as if a ghost is walking over my grave.”
“Now? Right now?” Candy asked, shocked.
“Yep,” Missy replied with a laugh. “Crazy. Right?”
“Crazy,” I agreed, forcing out a laugh that sounded strange even to me.
“End the luncheon,” Steve whispered in my ear.
“And keep Missy here,” Gram said.
Shit. I had no clue why Gram wanted Missy to stay, but questioning it was impossible with everyone here.
My acting talent wasn’t great. It went hand in hand with being a poor liar, but necessity was the mother of invention… or in my case, a throwback to my high school drama class skills or lack thereof. I stood up, stretched my arms and yawned.
“Oh my! You’re tired, sweetie,” June said, jumping to her feet and giving me a motherly hug. “We should get going soon.”
“Yep,” Jennifer agreed, slapping Tim on the back. “You’re a dang worthy competitor and right out of your ever-lovin’ mind. Rumor has it that you x-ray and steal mail, but that doesn’t bother me one bit. A little unlawful activity is healthy, but don’t tell Dip I said that—don’t want him to use the cuffs on me other than in the boudoir, if you get my drift.”
“It would be really hard to miss your drift,” Heather pointed out.
Jennifer simply laughed, gave Heather a thumbs up and continued her mostly socially unacceptable rambling. “Get this! When I had my Botox appointment, the receptionist went to the bathroom and I peeked at all the files. I have crap on everybody in town. Harry Johnson had a penis enlargement.”
Candy Vargo barked out a laugh. “That is not his name.”
“Oh, yes it is!” Jennifer told her with a wide grin. “Named his kid Richard—they call that poor boy Dick. But in their defense, Dick Johnson is a family name.”
“Only in the South,” Missy said, shaking her head. “So, there are a lot of Dick Johnsons?”
“Five that I know of and a daughter named Ima,” Jennifer confirmed. “But here’s the kicker. Anne Wilson Benang Walters had her knockers done… five times.”
“I knew it,” Gram yelled. “That woman looked like a hussy at my funeral. She tells everyone she was born with those rock-hard, pointy hooters. Anne Wilson Benang Walters is a liar-lair pants on fire. She’d pee down your back and tell you it’s raining.”
I almost told Gram to hush, but thankfully caught myself. “Umm… Jennifer, did that enlightening diatribe have a point?” I asked.
“Yep,” she answered with a chuckle. “I’d like to invite Tim to dinner with Dip and me. I have a feeling it will be an illuminating meal.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Tim replied, surprised and pleased.
“Remind me not to go to that dinner,” June whispered with a grin. “I’ve learned enough today to last me a lifetime.”
“Ditto,” I said, hugging her tight.
“Great lunch, Daisy,” Jennifer said. “Great company. Great time. Do you want me to leave the rest of the wine?”
“No,” I told her. “Take it home with you, but I wouldn’t mind at all if June left a few cookies.”
“They’re all yours,” June said. “I’ll get my platter back later in the week. Charlie and I are watching our calories.”
After a bunch of hugs and a promise that Heather would help me clean up, June and Jennifer made their exit. I didn’t even have to ask Missy to stay. She and Heather were deep in conversation.
Turning my back to them, I whispered to Gram, “Why am I keeping Missy here?”
“Don’t rightly know,” she admitted. “Got a feeling in my gut.”