had occupied for years. James sat where Richmond used to sit. And Chick Carlson sat in James’s old spot.
Barbara Jean didn’t talk about the future. She said she planned to take each day as it came. But if you got her alone and pressed her about it, she’d tell you that what was happening—her and Chick together, trying to learn to be happy—was a miracle.
I didn’t argue with Barbara Jean, but I’d grown partial to Mama’s take on that topic. What we call miracles is just what’s supposed to happen. We either go with it or stand in its way. It seemed to me that Barbara Jean had just finally stopped getting in the way of what was meant to be. But what did I know? I’d chosen to go with the flow and I’d ended up letting the drunken ghost of a former first lady convince me that I was about to die.
When we headed to the buffet line, we found the pickings pretty slim. Erma Mae saw me spooning the last of the braised short ribs from a tray. She said, “We’ll have some more soon. We thought we’d have a busy day today, but we didn’t plan on this kinda crowd showin’ up. It’s like they all marked the date on their calendars and ran straight over here from church to see the show.”
That was when I remembered. One year ago, Minnie McIntyre had announced to everyone that her spirit guide, Charlemagne the Magnificent, had put her on notice that she had a maximum of 365 days to live. Now the All-You-Can-Eat was full of people who’d come to see how Minnie was going to deal with waking up alive a year later.
Little Earl hustled out of the kitchen with an overflowing tray of short ribs. He saw me and said, “Hey, Odette, good to have you back.” He put the tray on the steam table with one hand while sliding out the empty tray with the other in one smooth, practiced motion. He said, “It’s crazy in here today. Sorry I can’t stay and talk.” Then he rushed back into the kitchen.
Erma Mae shook her head. “He’s not sorry at all. He’s tickled pink to have this crowd. Maybe we can persuade Minnie to predict her death every Sunday. That way we could retire in another year.” Then someone waved at her from the cash register and she hurried away.
All six of us filled our plates and headed back to our table. As soon as we sat, Clarice said, “I talked to Veronica last night.” Veronica had started speaking to Clarice again immediately after everything went so wrong at the wedding. She’d been calling Clarice just about every day since then to vent some steam about what Minnie had done to her with her bad predictions.
“Is Veronica doing any better?” Barbara Jean asked.
“A little. She’s still too embarrassed to leave the house, but she got a new prescription for nerve pills and she doesn’t talk about murdering Minnie quite so much. Now she does a fair amount of inappropriate giggling instead. It’s creepy, but I suppose it’s an improvement.”
“I’m surprised she isn’t here today. I’d think she’d want to be on the scene to hear Minnie try to explain being alive. It might give her a bit of satisfaction,” I said.
Clarice said, “No, she’s determined to lay low until people forget about the wedding.”
“She’ll have a hell of a long wait on her hands,” I said. “I heard a rumor that the wedding photographer was selling his footage to America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
Clarice and Barbara Jean both squealed, “Really?”
“Well, no,” I confessed. “But a girl can dream.”
Barbara Jean asked, “What about Sharon? How’s she doing?”
Clarice said, “Not so good. I haven’t seen her, but, according to Veronica, she’s locked herself in her room and only comes out to shoot evil looks at her mother. On top of that, her hypnosis is wearing off, so she’s struggling to stay away from the sweets. It’s not easy for her, depressed as she is, living with three hundred servings of wedding cake in the deep freezer down in the basement.”
Then Clarice said, “Excuse me for a second.” She lightly rapped on the table with her knuckles and cleared her throat. When she had everyone’s attention, she said, “Richmond,” then she extended her right hand, palm up.
Richmond tried his unconvincing innocent look for a few seconds. Then he slid a large serving of banana pudding out from beneath his napkin