A Cherry Cola Christmas (17 page)

She leaned in with a deadpan expression. There was absolutely no way he was going to wiggle out of this. “You left yourself room to be saved in time, you know. You knew Bonjour Cheri and I were coming back from our walk. You could've downed a coupla more shots and a few more pills so that no amount of stomach-pumping would've saved you. I love you, Durden, but that was a half-assed suicide attempt if I ever saw one. And, by the way, I trust you'll never pull a stupid stunt like that again.”

“I'm not sure you would ever understand.”

Evie straightened up and set her jaw. “Maybe not. But I insist you go to The Twinkle tonight. It's exactly what you need to boost your spirits. Sitting around here and moping won't cut it. That's not the man I married.” She paused to point down to Bonjour Cheri, nestled at his feet. “It's the least you can do since the two of us went to all the trouble of saving your life. Isn't that right, girl?”

Bonjour Cheri—lying as still as a fluffy white throw rug after her frenetic activity of the evening before—reacted as if she had understood every single word, making a sweet, whimpering noise.

“You two are quite an act,” Councilman Sparks said, trying very hard to remain in a cantankerous mood but completely unable to do so. It was difficult to be ungrateful for being pulled back from the edge.

“Then you'll show up?”

He didn't answer right away, shifting his eyes from side to side and screwing up his mouth. “On one condition,” he told her finally.

“And what's that?”

“That you come with me. You can welcome them as the First Lady of Cherico right alongside me.”

“So you really need me, do you? Every wife likes to know she's appreciated now and then.”

He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Maybe I haven't said it enough, Evie. But I guess I've always needed you. I didn't realize how much until I woke up to your pretty face in the hospital. And I was hell-bent on never waking up at all, you know.”

“Well, I'm certainly glad you didn't get your way for once,” she said, her face a study in relief. “Maybe something good will come of this after all.” Then her features quickly hardened. “You scared the living daylights out of us. Don't you ever do anything like that again. I'll kill you if you even try!”

He managed a wry smile, reaching down to pet Bonjour Cheri's artfully clipped head. “You know, I even thought of just plain ole resigning instead of trying to off myself. I have to plead temporary insanity to that, I guess.”

“You sure do. I can just picture Chunky and Gopher Joe—either one—trying to run this town without you. It'd be a farce from day one. You've done nothing but enable those two to be clueless all these years.” She paused and wagged a finger vigorously. “Listen, you find a way to turn this town around instead of running away from everything—and that includes me and Bonjour Cheri. Honestly, what on earth has gotten into you?”

“That's the thing, Evie. I'm fresh outta ideas. I never thought I'd just run dry like this.”

There was exasperation in her tone, but she managed a wifely smile. “The important thing is not to give up. You're always talking about your legacy. Now's the time to make sure you leave one behind.”

 

Maura Beth was totally unprepared for Waddell Mack's relaxed charm. Her preconceived notions about what a famous country singer would be like were so far off base as to be profoundly head shaking with maybe a facepalm thrown in for good measure. Of course, Periwinkle had set the perfect mood with the singer's latest CD playing quietly in the background. Seated to his right at their table at The Twinkle—and with an obviously doting Renette to his left—Maura Beth found herself speechless as he rattled off one amusing anecdote after another. She'd never encountered such seamless banter, flavored with just the right amount of boyish Southern twang.

“Truth is, I live and breathe small towns like this. Cherico reminds me of my little hometown, at least what I could see of it as we rode in on the bus,” he said between sips of his second beer. Then he drew himself up, took an exaggerated, deep breath, and exhaled against his tight pale blue shirt with the mother-of-pearl buttons. “It's what country music is all about, really. We just speak for the everyday folk the way they try to do for themselves in the shower, except we're not off-key.” He loudly rapped his knuckles three times on the table, looking smug. “At least most a' the time we're not.”

Renette giggled, daring to pursue his train of thought. “Now, how in the world did you know that?”

Waddell leaned over and caught her gaze playfully. No matter the size of the audience, he knew how to handle the situation, finding just the right thing to say. “What? That you sing in the shower?”

She went all crimson and quickly hung her head. “It's true. And I can't even carry a tune, no matter what. I tried out for chorus my junior year in high school, and they turned me down. I mean, I was downright awful.”

“Nah, you prob'ly weren't as bad as you think. But the singin' in the shower thing—it's not hard to figure out. Here's my theory: it's the shampooing that brings it out in all of us,” he continued. “We sorta get into a rhythm, if you think about it. You know, the lather, rinse, and repeat thing. They make you do it twice. Which is why I first thought I wanted to be a drummer in this crazy, mixed-up business that's as competitive as all git-out. But then my first git-tar came callin' on me as a Christmas present from my parents, and we've been uh old married couple ever since. Yep, my git-tar is my one and only old lady. I call her Miss Chordette, and I just love to tickle her.”

Maura Beth couldn't help herself. The image of Waddell Mack's long fingers manipulating those strings sent a spurt of adrenaline through her veins. But she wisely refrained from commenting and hoped the excitement she was feeling wasn't showing up on her face. After all, she was a respectable, married woman.

Across the table, husband Jeremy was finishing up his last piece of cornmeal-battered catfish as everyone laughed at Waddell's musical revelations. “Glad you ordered this up, Waddell,” he said. “I never much cared for catfish before, but this totally changes my mind. I'm not sure how much I've eaten already.”

“Tell Miz Periwinkle down there at the other end of the table,” he said, pointing in her general direction with a wink.

Periwinkle perked up as she heard her name mentioned. “Anyone need anything down there? We got plenty in the kitchen. Just say the word, and it'll appear as if by magic.”

“Can't think of a thing,” Waddell called out. Then he quickly surveyed the long table that had been pieced together from smaller ones by the staff of The Twinkle. “How about the rest a' you guys?”

Some of the band members and the roadies happily offered up phrases like, “No complaints!” and “We're fine!” and “Full as a tick!”

But Fingers stopped chewing long enough to raise his hand. “I'm on my second helping, Waddell. We'll see if I have room for a third.” Then he turned toward the head of the table. “Guess you won't tell us what's in your batter that makes it taste so darn good, huh, Miz Periwinkle? Are you the type a' chef who gives out her recipes? If ya do, maybe I could take one home to the wife.”

“Oh, I don't mind tellin' you at all,” she said without a moment's hesitation. “It's no big secret. I put a little cayenne pepper and a few red pepper flakes in the batter to give it just that little kick. That's what you're tastin'. But save a little space for one of my pastry chef 's sinful desserts.”

She gestured toward Mr. Place a few chairs away as he smiled, nodded his head, and said, “Believe me, you'll be in Sweet Tooth Heaven.”

Periwinkle quickly glanced at her watch. “And it shouldn't be long before our Councilman Sparks arrives to welcome you officially to our little town. He promised to stop by for dessert and give you the key to the city. Seems he had a little food poisoning incident last night and is trying to take it easy on himself until his stomach settles down. But no way could he ever resist a bite of one of my Parker's famous confections. You'll see for yourselves pretty soon.”

In truth, Maura Beth had wondered why Councilman Sparks hadn't shown up yet, but then again, she had not had a chance to address the subject with Periwinkle, being as busy as she was all evening—the proverbial blur between the kitchen and the dining table. It sounded about right, however—Cherico's head honcho trying to make a lasting impression as Waddell and his band found themselves smack dab in the middle of a sugar high. How could they not find whatever he had to say fascinating with that kind of buzz circulating throughout their veins?

“Haul out the sweet stuff, then!” Waddell exclaimed, right on cue. “Been a long time since I've had a meal this good. Maybe I'll even be inspired to write a song about it on my next CD.”

For an instant, Periwinkle looked as if she might just fall out of her chair. “Oh, would you? That'd be too much to ask!”

Caught off-guard, Waddell resorted briefly to a frown but quickly recovered. “Maybe I just will, Miz Periwinkle. I could call it something like—oh, I don't know—‘Down at Periwinkle's.' ”

“Or ‘Down at The Twinkle,' ” Fingers put in. “I can see it movin' up the charts right now in my mind's eye.” He paused dramatically and pointed to one of the mobiles dangling from the ceiling. “Wait—there it goes—straight to the top. Number one with a bullet!”

Waddell started improvising music and lyrics spontaneously, but it all sounded like he had been working on it for weeks to include in his repertoire:

“How do you do that?!” Periwinkle exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Do all your songs come out of you so easy? It must be wonderful to have the sorta talent you have!”

“Oh, shucks, it ain't nothin', ma'am. I was just playin' around is all,” Waddell told her while waving her off at the same time. “There's lots more to it than that, believe me.”

“You bet there is,” Fingers added after finishing up his coleslaw. “That sounded like a commercial. A right good one, mind you, but still a commercial that drives you crazy on TV.”

Waddell pretended to be mad with a playful scowl. The two of them were good at this kind of give-and-take and enjoyed the one-upmanship. “Ah, why don't you shuddup and have some more catfish!”

“Works for me.”

“Well, I'd settle for a few autographed pictures of y'all to hang on the walls,” Periwinkle added.

Waddell emphatically pointed his index finger in her direction. “Now, you know good and well that's a done deal, Miz Periwinkle. And I'm gonna send a few tweets out about this place to boot. You can count on it. I hope a lot more people come here and eat under your danglin' stars!”

 

“Move just a little more to your right,” Periwinkle told the roadies, gesturing to them while holding her smartphone in her hand. “You fellas have gotta bunch up a bit more to get in the picture.” She paused briefly to frame the shot but came away shaking her head once again. “No, I still can't get you all in. There are just too many of you even for a wide shot. I can't back up far enough.”

Councilman Sparks spoke up, annoyed by Periwinkle's ineffective directions. “Look, I have an idea here. Why don't you do a shot with me presenting the key to the city to Waddell first? Then Waddell and the band. Then Waddell and the roadies. That way everybody gets in at least one shot, and we finally get this thing done before midnight.” The impatience in the councilman's voice was very evident, causing Evie to chastise him ever so subtly with a nudge of her elbow.

Watching from her seat at the table, Maura Beth continued to speculate on Councilman Sparks's irascible mood. He had made his entrance a few minutes earlier with Evie on his arm, looking the part well enough at that point. But his trademark reelection smile was patently missing, and when he introduced himself to Waddell and the rest of his band, he had projected an air of merely going through the motions as they all jumped up out of their seats to greet him. Perhaps, Maura Beth reasoned, it was just a hangover from his hospital emergency of the evening before, whatever that had actually involved.

“He clearly doesn't want to be here. I know him like the back of my hand,” Maura Beth had leaned across and whispered to Jeremy while all the handshaking was going on nearby but out of earshot.

When Periwinkle began to follow through with the snapshot suggestions, however, there was a slight improvement in the councilman's tone. “Waddell,” he said, “I hope you'll take advantage of this key to our city anytime you're in this neck of the woods, and be sure and let us know you're coming so we can plan ahead. Lord knows, we could use some excitement in our little town.”

Waddell brandished the big, plastic gold key and smiled big. “We sure will keep in touch, Councilman Sparks. I do b'lieve we can find us a way to route ourselves through Cherico on all our Deep South tours if we possibly can.”

“We'll look forward to that.”

“I gotta tell ya, this little restaurant here is as good as advertised. No two ways about it!”

Then Councilman Sparks nodded toward Periwinkle. “You got all the shots you need now? Seems to me like you've got plenty for your wall.”