IN FOR A PENNY (The Granny Series) (13 page)

The warden leaned forward. “I really want your feedback.
Positive or negative.”

Relief streamed through Lillian. She wasn’t in trouble.
Just smile and be polite. Follow the rules and get out of here. That’s the plan.
“I haven’t been here that long. I’m still getting settled in, but I’m quite sure everything is as it should be.”

“I should have guessed a woman like you wouldn’t complain.”

“A woman like me?” The words tumbled out before Lillian could stop them.

“Well-bred, refined, rich.”

Not rich anymore.

“I’ve got a special assignment for you.”

Assignment? She sure hoped it wasn’t worse than cleaning the bathrooms.

“No doubt you’ve already noticed we have several personal development programs available here at WSPC.”

“Yes. I’ve heard.”

“Etiquette training has been added to our list of offerings for our guests.”

Guests.
Did this lady think she was a cruise director?

Sometimes this whole prison stay felt like a dream, but then her crappy outfit snapped her back to reality. On her worst day she wouldn’t wear these clothes on purpose.

“Here’s the suggested outline.” Warden Proctor shuffled papers on her desk and held out a sheet to Lillian. “I’d like to present you as the teacher for this curriculum.”

“Teacher?
I don’t know anything about prison etiquette. Surely someone else who has tenure here could help with this.”

“Oh no, not prison etiquette. I mean
proper
etiquette. Lots of these girls come from harsh environments. Manners that are second nature to someone like you are completely foreign to them. What fork to use at a nice meal, proper greetings, the dos and don’ts of a good conversation.”

Lillian glanced through the curriculum. The list was a no-brainer. “Nothing on here I wouldn’t expect from a school child.”

“Exactly my point. But you and I both know these skills will help once these women reenter the outside world. Not only in social situations but in job interviews.”

Lillian ran her finger down the page.
Tempting, so tempting. But her little run-in with Big Martha had already taught her it was best to just stay quiet and lay low.

Warden Proctor must have sensed her hesitation because she started talking in a quick clip. “If this goes well, we have the chance to pull in some contemplative programs, too, like meditation or yoga. I think we can soften the hard edges on some of these women.”

Lillian didn’t know if there was an emery board tough enough to wear down the chips on the shoulders of the inmates she’d met. But Momma had always said that everyone had grace inside them, they just needed to know when and where to pull it out and use it.

“What happens if I don’t do a good job?” Lillian’s thoughts raced back to the warning from Big Martha about minding her own business.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t know you’d be perfect for this assignment.” The warden patted her desk like it was a done deal. “And this happens to be one of the highest-paying jobs in the prison. With what you owe, I thought that might make it even more appealing.”

Well, that did change things.

It might mean she could possibly have a little for her commissary account too. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought.

But she’d already heard inmates didn’t get the coveted jobs this quickly. Maybe this assignment was in addition to bathroom duty. “But I’ll still have my day job, right?”

The warden laughed. “Oh, heavens no. Why would you think that?”

Because scrubbing toilets would keep her safe from the likes of Big Martha.

“Honey, with as many women as we have here, you’ll be teaching at least one class a day,” the warden added. “And it could also mean we might get some days shaved off of that sentence.”

Now, Lillian’s heart was pounding. After all, it wasn’t like she was taking someone else’s job or an inmate had to take part in the class. So Big Martha would have no reason to get her panties in a twist.

It might even mean Lillian could develop a small group of trusted friends here.

She looked up and leveled a stare at the warden. “I’d be happy to help.” Her momma hadn’t raised
no fool. If she could repay her debt and get out early…that was a win-win if she’d ever heard one.

“Perfect, because I want to announce it while everyone is in the dining hall. That’s just about now. Come.”

The warden led Lillian out of the office. When they entered the dining hall from the restricted entrance at the rear, the lunch chatter muted immediately. The smell of tomato sauce and garlic permeated the air. The line for food snaked around the wall and outside the room. Sometimes it took an hour to get through that line and find a seat because the dining hall couldn’t accommodate all the inmates at once.

Lillian felt all eyes turn toward her and, if they could have killed, she’d have been dead a hundred times over. No one looked impressed that she was standing there next to the warden. In fact, it was quite the contrary.

One of the guards flipped the lights on and off, and everyone who wasn’t already staring stopped in their tracks.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” the warden said.

The last of the whispered conversations drifted quiet, and a niggle of worry vibrated in Lil’s stomach. No spaghetti for her today.

“I have some exciting news. Inmate Fairview has graciously agreed to teach a new class here at Walter Stiles.”

“How to be a snob?” someone called from the back.

Warden Proctor went on her toes to look over the crowd, but apparently couldn’t identify the guilty party. “No more of that. We’re fortunate to have someone who’s well-versed in this new curriculum.”

Lillian swallowed to cover her nerves.

“This week, Inmate Fairview will begin teaching a daily etiquette class.”

Grumbling rose from the tables.

“And in case you’re wondering, this course is required for every inmate at Walter Stiles. You’ll attend once a week, minimum.”

What?
That lump in Lillian’s stomach hardened and sank.

But when she met Big Martha’s malicious stare across the room, that lump jolted up Lil’s throat and she had to slap her hand across her mouth to keep from vomiting right there on the floor.

Chapter Fourteen

Maggie sat on the front porch in a rocker, sipping a glass of her
special
tea to calm her nerves after the big toilet ruckus. So what if it was nine in the morning? Just when she thought she might have a hope of buying back Lil’s ring, everything else was falling apart around her. If she didn’t get hopping on that bathroom and launch those tours, she’d watch her best friend lose her home and she’d be out on her fanny too.

She eyed Sera’s VW van. She could never live like that. A camper shell on the back of her pickup truck just wasn’t going to cut it for this old gal, not even if she were as fit as Sera. And seeing as starving wasn’t her idea of a good diet choice, she wasn’t going to look like Sera anytime soon.

Oh, Lil. How the heck do you think I can keep all this afloat until you get home?

That was the question she hadn’t nailed Lillian down on, just how long she would she be gone. And the discrepancy between what Lillian said she
leveraged
in Social Security checks after Harlan’s earthly departure and what she was incarcerated for bugged Maggie.

Why hadn’t Lillian kicked and screamed over that? She must have had one of those bargain billboard lawyers. Probably too doggone prideful to use the family attorney.

After all those years keeping the hardware store’s finances, Maggie knew her double-entry bookkeeping. And this just didn’t balance. 

The tea eased the stress that was making her whole body ache. Lil had said that Nash Talley helped her. Maggie stopped
midrock. Now that she thought about it, he’d also been listed as a committee member on Angelina’s letter. That man was popping up in every situation where Lil was coming out on the losing end. Lil might not be ready to admit that straitlaced pretty boy had helped himself a little, too, but Maggie couldn’t get it out of her head.

She lifted the sweating tea glass to her lips and gulped.

“I think it’s time Nash Talley filled in the blanks,” she said, sounding a little like Dirty Harry and liking the way that felt. She left the glass sitting on the porch rail, grabbed her keys from the hook just inside the door and headed for her truck.

The funeral home
was locked up tight, and there was no sign of Nash at Gabriel’s Acres either. No one could hide in a town the size of Summer Shoals. She’d stumble across him one way or another.

But Maggie wasn’t going to run around town like a chicken with her head chopped off either. She’d watched enough episodes of
Castle
to know a body needed to be discreet about this kind of thing. Ask some seemingly innocent question so the person of interest didn’t get spooked and bolt.

It would look a lot less obvious if she had a wingman, so Maggie swung by Summer Haven to pick up Sera.

Maggie turned in the driveway and spotted Sera picking dandelions in the side lawn. Sera lifted a fluffy-headed stem to her mouth and blew. Tiny seeds whisked into the air all around Sera and Maggie winced.

Lillian would’ve had a cow if she’d seen that. But Maggie closed her eyes and made her own wish on the dandelion, just in case, because she could use all the luck she could borrow right about now.

“Sera, I need you to come with me.”

Sera dropped the stem and ran across the lawn. She moved like a teenager, and Maggie yearned to be that free. Sera climbed into the truck without hesitation. “Where are we going?”

“To the Atlanta Highway Diner. And I can promise you right now you’re not going to much like what they have on the lunch menu. Just keep your mouth shut about all that, okay? We’re on a fact-finding mission, not a health food quest.”

“I’ll try, but good healthy eating is everyone’s business.”

“Not around here. You just tolerate it, okay?”

“I can do that.”

“Good girl.”

Maggie zipped down the road and parallel-parked in front of the diner at just a few minutes after eleven.

Nearly every table and chair in the diner
was filled and the gossip was throbbing loud. A smile pulled at the corners of Maggie’s mouth. This was the perfect place to get some answers.

She craned her neck, hoping she’d spot Nash Talley among the diners. No such luck.

The last table open was right in the center of the restaurant. Normally, that wouldn’t do for her at all, but today it was the perfect spot.

Dottie, a striking ash-blonde waitress, rushed over to greet them. “Maggie, honey, we’ve missed you and Lillian the past few weeks.
I’ve got some of those cheese grits you like so much in the back. How ’bout I spoon you up a bowl?” Dottie leaned over the counter and whispered, “I made ’em with half and half just the way you like.”

Maggie winced. If she didn’t watch out, Sera
was going to know exactly why she was packing those extra thirty pounds.

“How about two specials?”
She decided the surprise of whatever today’s special was would be a better gamble than a lecture from Sera on what she’d selected.

Sera took the seat across from her.

A few minutes later, Dottie delivered two heaping plates of ketchup-smothered meatloaf, garlic mashed potatoes swimming in butter, and a fluffy cloverleaf roll.

“Where are the vegetables?” Sera asked, panic in her eyes.

Dottie plunked down a bowl of crispy fried okra beside each plate.

Maggie kept an ear cocked for the conversations in the booths and tables around her. This was definitely the over-sixty crowd. The ones who had nothing better to do with their time than to watch what their neighbors were doing.

To her left, two sisters were talking about their niece’s upcoming nuptials and how she’d chosen orange for her wedding color since it was in October.

The name Nash Talley came from somewhere behind Maggie and her ears pricked.
Sera was saying something but Maggie just let her ramble as she leaned back in her chair and strained to get a better listen.

“The flowers were set up all haphazard and the whole service ran late. This would never have happened when Warner Talley was running things.”

“I thought Nash was making good changes over there. He’s spruced up the place with those new chapel pews and aisle runners. This is the first complaint I’ve heard. That guy’s so anal about things I can’t believe he’d let the flowers be all cattywhompus.”

A man at the next table threw in his two cents.
“Anal, hell. That boy is downright OCD. Has to have everything in its place or he dang near gets a rash over worrying about it. His little problem is way more than just that hand washing Warner used to talk about.”

The young woman at the counter got up and joined the man at the table. “That might be true, but Nash Talley is nowhere to be found. He’s up and done one of his disappearing acts again. Not that it really matters. He practically lets the staff run that place now. Warner would have never done that. Figures Nash would fly the coop when one of my relatives died. I knew he never liked our family.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I’d complain to Warner if there was any chance he could do something about it. Poor old guy is halfway to heaven already from what I hear.”

“I know. I heard the same thing. Bless his heart.”

Disappearing act? So this wasn’t the first time Nash had been difficult to track down.

Sera hadn’t touched her plate, but Maggie stabbed a piece of fried okra with her fork. Sera’s face contorted as she watched the morsel get closer and closer to Maggie’s lips, until Sera finally just closed her eyes. Maggie stuffed the okra in her mouth and enjoyed every chew.

At a booth catty-corner from them, one of Lillian’s Bunco pals was talking about the recent pizza party she’d thrown for the Dogwood Ridge residents.

“What were you thinking, buying those old folks pizza? I bet they had the farts for a week.”

“They sure seemed to enjoy it. I just thought it would be nice for them to feel like it was a good ole Saturday night. I even brought my record player so they could listen to good music. Warner Talley was doing Elvis impersonations. In fact, I’m not a hundred percent sure he doesn’t think he
is
Elvis.”

That’s it!
Warner could probably shed some light on where Nash was.

The woman was practically glowing with pride. “It was the least I could do for those poor old folks.”

Dottie stopped at their table with a pot of steaming coffee. “Girl, you ain’t no spring chicken either. Did I hear you right? Pizza isn’t so cheap anymore. How’d you manage that?”

“It’s the strangest thing.” The lady pulled her freshened cup of coffee toward her. “Our government is so darn mixed up that they sent me an extra Social Security check.
Well not technically me, but for Randall.”

“Randall?
Really?” The woman’s companion drew back and cocked her head. “He’s been dead and gone for a year. Now, why on Earth would they send him a check?”

“
Finders keepers is what I say. Showed up right in my mailbox, just like old times. I deposited that sucker right into my account and used it for good. It felt nice to play Robin Hood for a day.”

“Well, honey, as nice as that is, I’m sure it can’t be legal. That’s stealing. How will you pay it back when they realize their mistake and come a knocking for it?”

Robin Hood’s face drained of its color.

“Excuse me, girls.” Dottie turned to man hobbling in, step by painful step, on a walker. “Hollis, what are you doing here?”

“That goddamned Meals on Wheels. You can’t trust nobody these days to do what they say they’re gonna do. It ain’t like I can just run right out to McDonald’s and pick myself up a Big Mac.” Hollis paused next to Maggie. “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi, there.
Doesn’t Nash Talley drive the Meals on Wheels truck?” Maggie asked.

Hollis thumped the walker against the floor. “We ain’t seen him for nigh on two Wednesdays now. I’d resorted to eating
Cheez-Its and nuts the kids gave me at Christmas, but now all that’s gone.”

Maggie’s trouble-o-meter was just a clanging. “Has anyone seen Nash?”

Murmurs rippled through the diner, and the final consensus was no one had set eyes on him.

A blue-haired woman in a bright red shirt spoke above the crowd. “Maybe he’s done up and died and he’s just festering away in his house. Anyone checked on him? Maybe we should call the sheriff.”

“Nash is only thirty-five. I don’t think he’s in danger of a random heart attack,” said one of the other diners.

Sera leaned toward Maggie.
“Nothing random about a heart attack after eating a few of these lunch specials.”

“Shsh.”
Maggie gave her a warning look.

“Well, you never know about people,” said a man at the counter.

Maggie didn’t think Nash was dead, but had another bad feeling tugging at her gut.

Lil, I know you want me to keep your deal with Nash quiet to save face, but there’s something rotten going on in Summer Shoals. I don’t think you’re the only person Nash pulled the wool over. Mr. Nice Guy has something else up his sleeve and it’s probably a devil tattoo.

Maggie leaned across the table and whispered to Sera, “What if Nash helped himself to more than just a few of Harlan’s Social Security checks?”

Sera bit her lower lip. “What do you mean?”

Just then, Teague walked in the door and Maggie waved him over.

“Teague, we’ve got a problem,” Maggie said.
“A big one.”