Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,87

pecking order.

“Y’all want some sweet tea, lemonade, Coke, or a Dr. Pepper?” Pansy asks, scanning the full to bursting backyard. With the community table stretching down the middle, combined with the smattering of tables on the fringes of the lawn, there are about thirty people here tonight. Pansy and Daisy, the youngest Mack, are the only waitresses Delfina needs. They are a well-oiled machine.

“Two sweet teas, please,” I say.

“You guys don’t have something a little stronger, do you?” Hudson asks.

“Aren’t you just the cutest?” Pansy says, walking away from us with a flourish.

“If they don’t offer it, you don’t ask. They also really don’t have any hours. They’re open as long as they have food and close when they run out,” I say, settling into the rickety plastic chair.

“Thank you so much for bringing me here,” Hudson says, leaning over and giving me a kiss. It catches me so off guard that he pulls back. “Is that okay? That I do that?” I smile and think of Merry Carole, nonetheless an odd thing to think of as a beautiful man is kissing me without any thought of who sees.

“Delfina has rules,” I say, my face coloring.

“Does she now?” Hudson says, looking around at the clientele.

“We want her food, we abide by her rules,” I say. I quickly look around to make sure no one was watching. We are kind of tucked into the back, so maybe . . . I scan the crowd. It’s a hot summer night at the most popular restaurant in North Star. Maybe no one saw. Then my eyes fall on a particularly crowded table set up close to the house. We must have walked right past it.

Laurel. Whitney. And an entire cabal of mean girls staring right at us.

I take a deep breath and continue scanning the crowd as if my heart didn’t just stop at seeing them. Laurel takes her napkin out of her lap and excuses herself.

“Excuse me,” I say, getting up to follow Laurel into Delfina’s, where the bathrooms are. I wind my way through the crowd in a fugue state. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I get there, but apparently having shoot-outs by restaurant bathrooms is going to become a thing. So . . . two for two.

I walk through Delfina’s, making sure to keep to the plastic pathways. I walk down the long hallway, past all the family pictures, pictures of Jesus, a picture of Ladybird Johnson, and a poster of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. I come to a skittering halt as I see Laurel at the end of the hallway, waiting outside the one bathroom.

“Who is he?” Laurel asks, without any greeting.

“A friend,” I say, slowing my pace as I near her.

“He’s not from here, right?”

“Of course not.”

We are quiet as whoever is in the bathroom takes their time.

“Where’s Peggy?” I ask, smoothing my skirt, fussing with my skirt, unable to keep still.

“I don’t know. Home, I guess,” Laurel says absently. I knew it. Laurel watches as I come to this smug realization. It might have ended with a sniff. Laurel continues, “What was that?”

“What?”

“That. That little hmmpf,” Laurel says.

“I was just realizing that when it comes to town gossip, Peggy is your friend, but when it comes to hanging out as friends, well . . .”

“This is my going-away dinner,” Laurel says, with a sigh.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” Laurel says.

“Going away to where?” I ask. The person inside the bathroom flushes the toilet. We both see this as some kind of ticking clock. We have only so much time.

“I got engaged. I’m moving to Dallas to be with him,” Laurel says, her chin raised.

“Congratulations,” I say, genuinely shocked. The water turns on inside the bathroom.

“You’re surprised?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s here for me?”

“Your family, your friends . . .” I trail off. Everett.

“My family and friends are happy for me. I’m finally moving on.” The person inside the bathroom pulls paper towels from the bin and we can hear them wiping their hands dry. I am quiet.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.

“Because we’re stuck in a hallway waiting for the bathroom. And . . . because it’s about time we—” Laurel stops. Thinks. She heaves a big sigh.

“No, I get it.” I do. The person comes out of the bathroom, excusing herself as she winds through us and down the long hallway. Laurel steps inside the bathroom and closes the door behind her. I wait. The hallway begins to close in around me. Laurel is leaving North