Mama's Comfort Food Read online

  “Soon. My last chemo is coming up. Hopefully, the surgery will follow closely after that, as long as the blood work is okay.”

  “You always have to not eat or drink anything right before surgery.” Mandy frowned. “Not being able to have my morning cup of coffee is what got me when I had my gallbladder removed a couple of years back. I had a screaming headache by the time they finally gave the happy shot. After that, I didn’t really give a hoot.”

  “I can imagine you’re ready to get it behind you,” Wanda said.

  Karen nodded.

  “What color would you like today? I have the new spring pinks in.” Melody held up a tray of nail enamel bottles.

  “Give me harlot red. It drives Mama nuts.”

  Melody grinned. “Your grandmama always loved her bright red nails, too. She and your mama would go ’round and ’round about it. Evelyn thought ladies of a certain age should wear subdued shades.”

  “Piddie was anything but subdued,” Lucille added.

  Mandy propped her hands on her hips. “Karen, I can’t stand it no more! Me’n Melody have been dying to hear how the visit with your friend went.”

  Karen looked over at Mandy and cocked her head. “What friend?”

  “The one all the way from Atlanta.”

  “I haven’t had any visitors. Well, take that back. Jon Presley stopped by yesterday for a while.”

  Melody and Mandy exchanged puzzled glances.

  “I can’t fathom she changed her mind after driving all that way,” Mandy said.

  “She?”

  “Anna Freeman. She said she was your coworker.”

  “I don’t know anyone named Anna. I’m pretty sure there’s no one by that name affiliated with the station, either.”

  Mandy pursed her lips. “That’s weird. She knew all about you. Talked about how she was the only one in Atlanta who knew who you really were, and that y’all were real close.”

  “She even said she was watching over your cats while you were away,” Melody supplied.

  Karen felt a chill deep inside. “No, a male friend is taking care of my animals. What did this woman look like?”

  “She was short—maybe a couple of inches shy of my height.” Mandy held her hand slightly below her eyes.

  “And kind of slutty looking,” Melody added.

  Mandy said, “Her hair was bleached platinum blonde, and not such a good job, I might add. Not that any hairdresser could have done much with it, except shave it off and let her start growing it again from scratch.”

  “Did you notice what kind of car she drove?”

  “It was red,” Elvina stated emphatically. “I know, on account of I stepped out to carry the trash to the outside barrel and I saw it. It was exactly like the one Ladonna O’Donnell drives. You know, one of them little bitty things not big enough to scat a cat in. When she gets out of it, Ladonna looks like a praying mantis crawling out of a thimble with those long legs of hers.”

  Elvina paused. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. I thought—when did Ladonna slip in without me seeing her? Then, I spotted the Georgia tag, and I knew it had to be Mandy’s new patron.”

  “A Mee—otter, that’s what it’s called,” Melody said. “I was trying to remember the name.”

  Karen felt as if the air had been sucked from the spacious room. “A red Mazda Miata?”

  Melody’s head bobbed. “That’s right. If it’s the same as the car Ladonna drives, it is.”

  Elvina stuck one finger in the air. “There was a parking sticker on the back bumper, too. I don’t rightly recall what it said. I wasn’t paying it much mind.”

  The corners of Karen’s lips turned down. “And she asked for Mary Elizabeth?”

  Mandy shook her head. “No, hon. She called you by your real name. Said she’d come to visit her dear friend, Karen Fletcher.”

  Karen closed her eyes. “I know exactly who she was, and she’s not what I’d ever call a friend. Not by a long shot. If she was here, she was fishing for information.”

  Mandy propped her hands on her hips. “Lord help us, Melody. We’ve been had.”

  Melody grasped Karen’s hand. “I hope we haven’t caused any trouble for you. I feel so awful. There we were—talking to the woman like we’d known her all our lives.”

  Karen looked first at Melody, then Mandy. “You would’ve had no way of knowing. I’m not mad—really.”

  Mandy snorted. “All I know is—if that floozy causes you any grief, and she shows her face in this town again, I’ll personally stomp her in the ground.”

  “It doesn’t take a brainiac to make a good fried egg sandwich. Easy peasy. Heat up a skillet with about a tablespoon of oil or bacon grease. Crack one large egg and splat it in the middle. When the clear part is cooked (it turns white—duh!), flip it over. Prick the yolk until it bursts and continue to cook for a few more seconds. Some people like the yolks wet; I don’t. Runny yellow in a fried egg sandwich is just plain creepy.

  Toast two pieces of wheat bread. Slather with mayonnaise (none of that low-fat junk) and slap the cooked egg on one side. If you want, you can add a slice of sharp cheddar cheese. Yum. Sometimes I add a couple of cooked pieces of bacon—turkey bacon if I’m on a health kick at the time—or a thick slice of cooked country ham. Close it shut with the other slice of toast and smash it down. Done.

  Couldn’t be more of a comfort food if it came with a pillow and soft blanket. Honestly!”

  Jake Witherspoon, owner of The Dragonfly Florist

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will Cooke’s private line light blinked insistently. He snatched the receiver and spoke. “No! I told you no this morning, and I meant it! You’re too young to go see a Dead Elephants or Babies or whatever concert, and especially not on a school night. My answer is final.”

  A small chuckle sounded on the opposite end. “Will?”

  He recognized the British lilt immediately.

  “Mary Elizabeth? I’m sorry. I thought you were my daughter. She’s called my personal line three times in a row this morning with a new improved reason I should bend on this concert issue. How are you? Does this call mean I can see your smiling face soon?”

  “Are you busy? Can we speak privately for a few moments?”

  He leaned back in the plush leather chair. “Sure. What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “Not exactly.” Karen hesitated. “This is so difficult to explain over the phone.”

  “You and I have always been able to talk to each other, Mary Elizabeth. Please—”

  “I’m not British.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Karen paused a beat. “You’ll be finding out the details soon, if Trisha Truman has anything to do with it.”

  “I’m completely lost now. Why don’t you start from point A and work toward point B?”

  “My real name,” Karen said, dropping the accent, “is Karen Fletcher. I am from a small town in rural north Florida. That’s where I am now—with my parents.”

  He struggled to equate the soft Southern-tinged speech with the woman he had known for over twenty years. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No, and I’m sorry I have to tell you this way. I was planning on coming by as soon as I recuperated from the surgery.”

  Will felt as if he had stumbled into an episode of The Twilight Zone. The conversation was becoming more surreal by the second.

  “Surgery?”

  “I have breast cancer, Will.”

  “My God.”

  “I go in after the final chemo for, hopefully, a lumpectomy—perhaps more extensive, depending on what the surgeon finds.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You’re not angry? I thought you would hang up as soon as I told you the truth.”

  “I admit I’m flummoxed about the whole masked identity issue. I would really appreciate a more detailed explanation.”

  “And you’ll get one. That, I promise. As soon as I recover enough to travel, I’ll be back to clean out my desk.”

&nbs
p; “You’re leaving us?”

  “I figured I wouldn’t have a choice. I hope you will leave me on the payroll at least until I’m clear of the majority of medical expenses—the health insurance, you know.”

  Will fought a wave of sadness. “You and I have seen this station through a world of changes, Mary, um, Karen. I think I owe it to you to at least hear your explanation. Besides, I don’t see why you would need to quit.”

  “Depends on what Trisha Truman is planning on doing with the information she’s gathered.”

  “You’ve been in contact with Trisha?”

  “No. She came into town and duped a couple of people into revealing details of my life and illness. She even stopped by my father’s restaurant and spoke at length with him—all under the pretense of being my dear concerned friend and coworker.”

  “Where did she get her information, do you suppose?”

  “Probably from public records. Given a social security number, you can get most anything off the Internet.”

  Will groaned. “Employee records—has to be where she gleaned your social and date of birth.” He snapped the pencil he held in two. “Damn her!”

  “It had to come out, sooner or later. I just wish I could have had more control in revealing it myself.”

  “Don’t worry about Trisha. I’ll take care of her. You just concentrate on getting well.”

  There was a pause on the other end. He heard the faint sound of crying.

  “Thank you, Will. You are a true friend.”

  “Karen—boy, calling you by a different name is going to take some practice—I have to tell you, D. J.’s suspicious. He may even have figured things out by now. He came in yesterday and asked for a few days off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up there, if he has gained access to your parents’ address.”

  She exhaled. “I planned on talking to him after all was a bit more settled.

  I appreciate the heads-up.”

  “I’m afraid I may be responsible for all that. He was pretty upset about you being off somewhere in some kind of family crisis, so I suggested he look for an address book at your place. I’m sorry. I may have caused you a lot of grief.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything at my condo to find, but you never know. If Trisha could locate me, anyone can. It’s not your fault, Will. He and I need to talk.”

  “That man worships the ground you walk on. Try not to worry too much. That can’t be good for you right now.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “You call me if you need anything, and I mean any little thing. You hear? Actually, if you’ll leave your parents’ number, I’d like to check on you in a couple of days.” He paused. “If that’s okay by you.”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  He entered the number she provided into his cell phone’s directory. “Godspeed to you, Karen. I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “Goodbye, Will.”

  In all the years of dealing with people, Will had ceased to be surprised by their behavior. This, however, was one of the most bizarre. He stared at the headset for a few moments before he mumbled aloud. “Well, ain’t that some shit?”

  Evelyn unloaded the dishwasher. The rattle of plates dropped carelessly atop towering stacks and the clang of silverware left little doubt Karen’s mother was annoyed. “What’s got you in such a snit, Ev?” Joe paused cautiously at the end of one long counter.

  “Who says I’m in a snit?” She swiped the countertops vigorously with a damp rag.

  “You’re still stewing over Elvina and the Easter service, aren’t you?”

  She pursed her lips and snorted. “I can’t fathom why Elvina Houston is insisting on Karen going down to the Morningside AME for church on Easter Sunday. It’s a day for families to be together, Joe. I can’t fathom it. I just can’t.”

  He refilled his coffee mug and topped it off with skim milk. “Elvina is just trying to help in her own way, I suppose. She’s as big a fool for that little church as your mama was, remember?”

  Evelyn’s expression softened. “Mama got to where she went with Lucille most every Sunday. She liked the singing, she said.”

  “Church is church, Evelyn. If Karen wants to go with Elvina, let it be. She’s a grown woman.”

  She exhaled slowly. “I know that, Joe, it’s just . . . she’s so weak right now.”

  “Elvina will see to it that Karen’s all right. She told me she’d bring her on home early if she got to feeling bad.”

  “I reckon.”

  Joe smiled. “There’s my girl. I can always trust you to see all sides.” He walked over and scooped his wife into a hug and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’ve got an idea.” He nuzzled her hair.

  Evelyn pushed away. “I’m not up for that this morning, Joe. I’ve got to get to the shop.”

  He chuckled. “Not that kind of idea. Although, now that you mention it.” He grabbed her rump with one hand.

  “Joseph Fletcher! You’re turning into a dirty old man!”

  “I’m your dirty old man and don’t you forget it.”

  Evelyn blushed like a virgin bride.

  “Here’s my idea. Why don’t you and I go to the sunrise service with the Baptists and then accompany Elvina and Karen to the Morningside AME at eleven?”

  Evelyn shrugged. “We could.”

  “They’re having a big dinner on the grounds after the service. I can cook up a pot of Piddie’s famous chicken ’n’ dumplin’s, some fresh greens, a hoecake of cornbread, and maybe an apple pie.”

  “Other than Maizie Clark’s funeral, I’ve never attended church there before.”

  “Nor have I. Judging from Elvina and Piddie’s experiences, we’d be welcomed in.”

  Evelyn hesitated. “You think Karen would mind us tagging along?”

  “Can’t imagine she would, but I’ll surely ask.”

  “It does sound like a workable thing. I’d really like for us all to be together for Easter. Too bad Byron won’t be here till Monday.”

  Joe snuggled close to his wife. “Sure you have to leave early this morning?”

  “You have to get on to the restaurant, too, I might remind you.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Maybe you and I can go out on a date this evening.”

  “And leave Karen alone?”

  “She’s going over to Jon and Jake’s for dinner, remember? It’ll do us both good to get out a little. We can ride over to that little Chinese place you like in Marianna. What do you say?”

  “You’ve got yourself a date, Mr. Fletcher. Just don’t think I’m the kind of girl you can ply with rice wine and take advantage of.”

  “Easter—A Time for Reconciliation,” the sign in front of the Morningside AME church declared. Karen Fletcher stood in the soft grass beneath the series of cement stairs leading up to the sanctuary on Wire Road. In front of her, Elvina Houston stopped every few feet to visit with a member of the congregation. The gathering had the appearance of a summer garden party. Creamy pastel sherbet hues mingled with bold African prints. Throughout the crowd, hats of assorted styles and adornments bobbed atop ladies’ heads.

  “Your father’s parking the Lincoln,” Evelyn leaned over and said in a low voice. “The cars are lined up practically to River Junction crossing. I’m glad we all rode together.”

  The two women watched the parade of smartly dressed parishioners arrive.

  “It’s a crying shame white women have gotten away from wearing hats to church,” Karen’s mother commented. “I can’t recollect when I’ve seen so many fine designs in one place.”

  “Maybe you and Elvina can stir up some interest with your new coordinating ensembles.”

  “One can hope.”

  Lucille Jackson appeared at the threshold of the church and scanned the crowd below before joining them.

  “There you are!” she said, reaching for Karen’s hand. “I’m so pleased you and your family decided to join us for Easter.
The musical worship promises to be wonderful today, what with Chiquetta joining us. I’ve got a spot next to Elvina that I saved for you, as long as you don’t mind sitting up close. The Reverend likes to look down from the pulpit and see me there. I’ve sat on the first pew for going on forty-five years now.”

  “Joe’s going to run home and bring the food after the service,” Evelyn said.

  The ribbons on Lucille’s pale blue sunbonnet rippled in the morning breeze. “Everybody does the same thing. We won’t eat until near one o’clock, by the time church lets out and everyone returns with the food. Of course, the children will hunt eggs in the vacant lot behind the building until midway the afternoon.”

  “Suppose it makes for a long day for a minister’s wife,” Evelyn offered.

  “I don’t mind a’tall.” Lucille looped one arm through Evelyn’s and the other through Karen’s. “Let’s go on in and get you two settled, shall we? I’ll come back and keep an eye out for your husband. I have to say, Miz Evelyn and Miz Karen, your dresses are a sight to behold. And Miz Elvina’s hats! She surely has found her calling, hasn’t she?”

  “Where is Elvina, by the way?” Karen asked.

  “Catching up, I’d say.” Lucille smiled. “She’s taken up your grandmother’s habit of asking around after folks before the service starts. She’ll be along. I always save her a seat, and she slips in as Thurston is giving the call to worship.” She tilted her head toward Karen. “Your grandmother, Miz Piddie, was my very dear friend. Once a month, regular as the cycles of the moon, I’d pick her up for Sunday services. She would stay for dinner with the Reverend and me. We loved her like she was family. I can’t bring her to mind that I don’t get a smile on my face. She got to the point, before she passed, that she came most every Sunday.”

  “Mama surely loved this little church,” Evelyn agreed.

  “Thurston maintained that Piddie was truly a Sister in Christ. She could see beyond the color of a person’s skin clean into their heart of hearts. Takes a spirit-filled person to do that. Surely does.”

  Lucille led them down the left aisle toward the front of the small sanctuary where they settled onto the first wooden pew to the left. The open room was divided into three sections with a series of long pews in the center and rows of smaller pews to the left and right. Folding gray metal chairs had been added at the rear of the room in anticipation of the Easter Sunday overflow.