Like Sweet Potato Pie (4 page)

“Go ahead.” Faye shooed me with her hand. “I’ll watch yer little angel here for ya.”

“Would you?” I shot her a grateful look. “I’m coming, Becky! Just hang on!”

Wow. The dog actually came in handy. I snapped the cell phone shut and ran for my purse. “Just one thing. Would you let Earl in to fix my shower in about twenty minutes? You know how Lowell carries on about having everything in the house perfect.”

“Earl?” Faye gave me a strange look. “Yer shower’s leakin’ again?”

“Yep, sure is. You wouldn’t mind, would you? I’d hate to call Earl and reschedule this late.” I patted Christie’s head. “You’ll just have to let the puppy out a lot. I can’t have my carpet reeking and turning yellow, or my Realtor will dump me.”

“No, Shiloh, don’t worry. I’ll take care a everything.”

A twinge of guilt stuck me at Faye’s kindness. But not for long.

“Really? That would help so much. I mean, Earl’s more than a neighbor. He’s a good friend.” I waggled my eyebrows at her. “Remember him? He’s a deacon down at that little church just around the corner. Did you know that?”

I’d gotten that bit from my next-door neighbor Stella Farmer, who I counted on for the good stuff. Stella knew everything about everybody. I found her all-inclusive knowledge useful at times, but creepy, too.

Faye blinked. “No, I didn’t. What’s his name again?”

“Earl Sprouse.”

“Don’t ring a bell. I don’t know many folks out here in Churchville.”

“Well, he’s the best. He loves that radio program with all the organ music… . What’s it called?
Bible Today?
”

“That’s a good one. I listen to it, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” I casually patted Christie. “Lowell would sell Earl’s house and garden in a second if he ever put it up for sale. The way he keeps everything so nice and neat. You remember that time we took a lemon pound cake over because he—”

“I remember him, Shiloh.”

I shut my mouth, afraid—with good reason—that I was chattering too much.

“Don’t you worry. Earl and I have met before, an’…” Faye’s voice trailed off. And rubbed her hands together—if I’d noticed correctly—just a tad nervously. “We’ll handle things jest fine. You jest go on ‘n’ get poor Becky.”

Poor Becky, all right. Faye would have our heads if she could see Becky falling over herself with laughter on top of Stella’s petunias.

“It might take awhile, so go ahead and eat, will you, Faye? And give Earl my plate. It won’t be any good by the time I get back. That’s an order.” I stuck my head back in the door. “Dessert’s in the fridge.”

She started to protest, but I waved my arms. “That soup’s got a cream base! It won’t reheat well. Please! Do it for me!”

I pushed through the screen door before Faye could say another word. Jumped into my—formerly Mom’s—white Honda and backed down the gravel driveway into the narrow street, lined with blocky houses just like mine. All trimmed with shrubs and wooden shutters, gleaming under protective, pale streetlights. I left Mom’s bright windows behind and then circled back, headlight-less. Past the house with the pink flamingos (plural). Past the creaky street sign. And into Stella’s butterfly-bush-laden driveway with the parked yellow school bus.

I eased the car door closed and ran across the chilly grass to meet my co-conspirators.

Stella huddled on the porch in her trademark flowered housedress, cigarette in hand, giggling and whispering with Becky and Trinity. I remembered the first time I met her, when she ambled past her satellite dish that loomed—and I’m not making this up—big enough to see on Google Earth.

Still, Stella had a heart of gold, and I owed her big-time for helping me land my job at The Green Tree restaurant. Owned by her brother Jerry.

“Faye fell for it!” I fingered the fringes on my shawl in the cool dusk. “I think. At least she’s staying.”

“Did she suspect anything?” Becky tugged on my arm. “Ya didn’t overdo it, did ya? Shore took ya long enough!”

Me and my big mouth. “Um … I hope not. Have you seen Earl yet?” I peeked around the corner of Stella’s white siding.

“Look!” Stella clapped her hand over her mouth and shushed us, even snuffing out her Marlboro. “Here he comes! Oh will ya look at that!”

We hid ourselves in the shadows as Earl Sprouse crossed the yard, toolbox in hand. He’d put on a nice dress shirt, obviously ironed, and we even caught a whiff of cologne on the crisp breeze.

He lived in the house right behind Stella and me, just a stone’s throw away. All the better for our prying eyes.

“My word,” breathed Stella, shuffling her hefty weight and trying not to creak the porch swing. She lowered her big hair out of sight. “I ain’t seen him cleaned up like that since I don’t know when. How old’s he now? Fi’ty-five? Oh what I wouldn’t give ta see that nice man in love again with somebody special! He’s spent a lotta lonely years since he lost his wife, God bless her.”

Trinity, fellow waitress and resident romantic at The Green Tree restaurant, crouched in front of me, her fragrant black curls still holding faint whiffs of fry oil. “Look at him! He’s adorable!”

“This was your idea!” I poked her.

“Ow.” She looked grumpy, rubbing her arm under her jacket.

“What? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m fine. Forget it.” She sounded crabby. “Anyway, I just came up with the dinner part. The rest was yours.”

I stopped gawking through the bushes and turned to her. “Hey, you okay?” I hugged a knee, noticing for the first time the dark circles under her eyes.

“Me?” Trinity jumped, the cheerful, sarcastic mask I knew so well slipping back into place. “I’m fine, Shiloh! I had to stay an hour after my shift while Jerry fixed that stupid sanitizer hose that keeps breaking, and now I’m sitting in the bushes in a redneck subdivision, shivering my tail off. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Good point.”

“Hush, y’all!” hissed Becky, dragging Trinity to a better viewing spot behind Stella’s browning hydrangea shrubs, careful not to crackle the twigs. “Jest watch!”

We stuck our heads through the leaves as Earl paused, noticing Faye’s little Escort. Then he straightened his shirt, smoothed his hair, and rang the doorbell.

A yellow light cut blue evening, and Faye’s silhouette appeared, classy and cool. I saw the outline of her long skirt and flats, her stylishly cut blouse and bracelet. She’d just had her hair done, looking more soft sandy-brown and less gray, and she looked great.

“What’s he doing? What’s he doing?” Stella whispered, heaving her way around Trinity’s curly head. “I can’t see!”

“He’s pettin’ the dog!” Becky informed her with a NASCAR-like play-by-play. “They’re laughin’. There he goes! He’s goin’ in!”

We slipped over to my yard, creeping along the ground, and took up positions behind my bushes and the shrubby things Adam had planted behind the marigolds. Stella peeked in through the living-room sheers, crouching in her housedress and flip-flops.

“Don’t know what that was all about,” came Earl’s voice through the screen door. “Weren’t a thing wrong with the faucet. Just the washer come loose.”

“Really? That’s weird. Maybe it just don’t tighten very well,” offered Faye diplomatically. “I had a faucet like that once. Always dripped.”

“Is that right.” Earl scratched his head again after an awkward silence, the other hand still clutching his toolbox. “Well, if ya need any plumbin’, jest … uh … lemme know.”

Speak, Faye! Speak! Say something!
My knees dug into the cold Virginia soil, and a prickly pyracantha shrub poked me in the thigh.

Earl just stood there, jingling the keys in his pocket. “What’s all that fancy dinner about?”

We strained to watch as Earl turned to Faye, fiddling with the handle on the toolbox while she explained. They gestured back and forth, scratching their heads, checking watches, and pointing to the plates. Then finally shrugged. And sat down at the smooth wooden table, faces down-turned in the golden glow of the kitchen light and flickering candles.

Faye twirled an earring, avoiding his eyes as she reached for the serving spoon.

“Five bucks says it won’t work,” said Stella, fidgeting with the lighter in her pocket. “She ain’t interested.”

“Five bucks say it will,” Trinity whispered back fiercely. “Look at her! Her hand just shook on her water glass. Did you see it?”

“Nope. She’s too refined for him.” Stella gestured for us to lean closer. “Word on the street’s that Dreama Simmons is after Earl somethin’ awful,” she whispered. “Ya know, that woman who lives over on Dry Branch Road?”

Dreama who? I crossed my arms stubbornly. “No way. Faye’s just shy. Haven’t you read
Pride and Prejudice?
”

“What’s that, a cookbook? I make a mean butterscotch puddin’, y’all. Why, jest last week—”

“Forget it,” Trinity groaned. “You’re wrong, Stella. They’re perfect for each other.”

Becky peered through the curtains. “The jury’s still out on this’n, Shah-loh. They’re jest makin’ small talk. I don’t know if no romance is happenin’ or they’re jest eatin’ some really good dinner.” She rubbed her belly. “An’ all that food’s makin’ me hungry!”

Stella looked sober for a second, face half-lit by the inside glow. “Ain’t gonna work. I’m tellin’ ya. Earl ain’t never gonna move,” she said bluntly, putting her hand in her pocket. “An’ Faye don’t wanna remarry. She tole me so once.”

The breath caught in my throat. “She didn’t.”

“Shore did. Sat right here on yer porch an’ said so.”

I peeked through the window as they cut their chicken and almond-flecked green beans, looking for all the world like a young couple on a first date. Faye laughed easily, and Earl took off his watch and dropped it carelessly on the rose-petal-covered tablecloth.

“Don’t listen to Stella.” Trinity put her arm around me. “They just need an uninterrupted evening to work the magic.”

“Hold on, hold on!” whispered Becky so loud we all shushed her. “She jest said somethin’ about Mack! Ain’t that her ol’ husband who passed away?”

“She did not.” Stella froze, dropping her lighter. Luckily it hit the grass instead of clattering on the porch. “She never talks about him.”

“Told you.” I stuck out my tongue.

I let out my breath. Finally something that didn’t end in disaster in Staunton, Virginia. Before this I’d already been mugged and kicked in the side, raced friends to the hospital, and played emergency stand-in nurse.

But today? I sighed and leaned blissfully against the porch column. Sheer perfection.

Now I just had to ring the doorbell, swing open the screen door to make my entrance, and …

“Shiloh!” Trinity grabbed my arm with cold fingers. “Don’t look now, but I think I just saw a cop car.”

“A what?”

Like a bad dream unfolding, a squad car with lights flashing did indeed hover at the end of my driveway. And turn in.

B
ecky blanched, mouth hanging open. “What on earth did ya do this time, Shah-loh?”

“I didn’t do anything! Honest!” I whispered back, heart hammering.

I had no next of kin here to worry about… . No parking tickets… . My overdue bills? No. Don’t be ridiculous. They’d send another collection agent, not a police officer.

Wouldn’t they?

Red and blue pulsed across the yard, illuminating the front of Mom’s house in eerie light as the car crept closer. Harsh CB radio messages squawked loud enough for people over in Waynesboro to hear.

Stella and Trinity fled. Becky grabbed my arm, and we ran headlong toward the car, heads down and out of the range of Faye and Earl’s vision. We arrived, panting, just as the trooper stepped out and slammed the car door, hand on his gun and looking surly.

Wait a minute. Didn’t this big guy with the buzz cut come into The Green Tree restaurant all the time to drink coffee and flirt with the waitresses?

“Excuse me. Who’s the resident a this house?” he barked.

“I am,” I whispered meekly, and he shined his light on me to check for weapons. I put my hands up. “If you’re coming to talk about my dumb bills, I’m already—”

“Name, please?”

“Shiloh Jacobs. I’m the daughter of Ellen Jacobs, who used to live here.”

“I just got a call about some people lurkin’ around in the bushes.” He shined his light on the shrubs around the house. “I’m sorry, but ya need to come with me. All of ya.”