I couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I did as I was told. “What would you like to know?”
“Tell me how you met.”
We’d actually met at the Dizzy Duke during a memorial for my ex, Philippe. I hadn’t been at my best, but I wasn’t going to share one of my top five embarrassing moments with Lula Belle, so I gave her the abbreviated version. “We met one night while he was tending bar.”
Lula Belle’s eyes narrowed slightly and her mouth pursed. “Oh my. He’s a bartender? So he’s in that environment every night?”
“Most nights.”
Primrose finished offering everyone a top-off on their champagne and came to stand beside me. I started to get up so she could sit, but she waved me back into my seat. I might have insisted, but maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put her right next to her arch rival.
Lula Belle nudged me with a sharp elbow. “Oh honey, you’d better watch out. I never did know me a barman who could keep himself under control. All the women. All the booze.” She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “All that temptation. Isn’t that right, Primrose?”
Primrose didn’t answer, but she looked angry enough to kill.
I gave myself a little pat on the back for keeping them apart and told Lula Belle, “It’s not like that. Gabriel’s not like that.” At least, I didn’t think he was.
She rubbed my hand softly. “Baby, around alcohol and women it’s
always
like that. Have you known him long?”
“Almost a year.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” She shook her head as if that meant something and flicked a piece of lint from her sleeve. “And he’s still attracted?”
“To me?” I tried not to laugh. “As much as he ever was.”
The old woman slid a sidelong glance in Gabriel’s direction. “Well, that’s good, baby, but he’s a fine-looking man. Other women are bound to notice. Tell her, Primrose. Tell her how hard it is for a woman to hang on to her man.”
I couldn’t tell if she was trying to make me feel bad, or if she was aiming at Primrose. Either way, I couldn’t wait to end this conversation. I wasn’t sure what to think of Lula Belle. She reminded me of Alicia Lopez, a girl from high school who’d spent all four years stealing and then discarding other girls’ boyfriends. Aunt Yolanda had always assured me that Alicia would grow out of her toxic behavior, but apparently, that wasn’t true of all mean girls.
Lula Belle watched me with those bright little eyes, waiting for some kind of response. I gave her the only one I could come up with. “I trust him.”
“Well, of course you do, baby.” She rubbed my hand again. “Of course you do. But I’m telling you, I’ve spent my share of time in joints like that, and I’ve taken more than my share of men from the naïve women who stay at home thinkin’ they’ve got things under control. All I’m sayin’ is, you watch your back.” She glanced pointedly at Primrose and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You don’t want to end up old and alone. That’s no way to live.”
I channeled a little mean girl of my own. “Are you married, then?”
“Me?” She threw back her head and laughed. “I was married five times, and I’m not ruling out going for number six. But I’m talking about ending up like . . . oh, like Primrose, I guess. Poor thing just couldn’t keep a man, could you, honey?”
Ouch!
I winced involuntarily. Primrose’s mouth disappeared in a thin line on her stony face and she drifted away. I didn’t blame her.
Hoping to change the subject, I agreed to take Lula Belle’s advice, then asked, “How long have you lived here at the Love Nest?”
Lula Belle rolled her eyes toward the ceiling for a moment, calculating. “I guess it’s been going on thirty years, ever since the sisters inherited this old house from their grandmother. Seems like forever.”
Thirty years under the same roof? It was a wonder she and Primrose hadn’t killed each other by now. “And all the rest of these people live here, too?”
“All except Pastor Rod. And Monroe, of course. He just showed up a couple of days ago.”
Well now. Here was an opening I could sink my teeth into. I schooled my expression into one of casual interest. “Oh? Is he here on vacation or something?”
Lula Belle shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t said.”
“Oh. I just thought . . .” I broke off and smiled sheepishly. “It’s just that you seemed awfully friendly.”
“Not especially.” She again brushed something from her sleeve. “It amuses me to flirt. No harm, right?” The glitter in her eyes died away, and her smile faded. “Or do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” I said. Her sudden mood shift surprised me. I’d already decided that she and I weren’t destined to be best friends, but I made a mental note to be cautious around her. “So have all the others lived here as long as you?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Does it matter?”
I shook my head slowly. “Not really. I was just making small talk.”
Lula Belle reached for her walker and pulled to her feet. “You know what, baby? I think you should worry less about other people and more about that husband of yours. He’s going to break your heart. Mark my words.”
It would be a lie to say that she rushed away, but I was too stunned to react until she’d put some distance between us. I ran over our brief conversation in my head, trying to remember exactly what I’d said and wondering what had set Lula Belle off like that.
She’d been friendly as long as she’d been throwing barbs at Primrose and poking her nose into my fake marriage, but the minute I’d asked about Monroe and the folks at the Love Nest, she’d done an abrupt about-face. On the surface my questions seemed innocent enough, though—so why had Lula Belle snapped at me?
She settled near Pastor Rod, her mouth clamped shut tightly, her jet-black eyes hard and angry as she looked back at me. I had no idea what was going on with her, but I had the feeling that Gabriel and I weren’t the only people here with something to hide.
Ten
Cocktail hour at the Love Nest began to break up shortly after my unsuccessful conversation with Lula Belle. Gabriel had escaped Grey and spent the past twenty minutes entertaining the group with fabricated stories about our relationship. Most of them featured me as the comic relief. By the time he finished telling about how I’d asked him out for our first date—a wildly exaggerated version of the actual event—I was seriously contemplating a fake divorce.
As the laughter died away, Dontae got to his feet and lumbered from the room, grumbling about needing dinner. Grey marched out a minute later, and Lula Belle and her walker thumped down the hall right after him.
Using his imagination had apparently made Gabriel hungry, too, because he was asking Pastor Rod about good places in the neighborhood to grab a bite. I saw the thinning crowd as an opportunity to finally talk to Monroe.
“I’ll help Hyacinth and Primrose clean up,” I said, moving away from the hand Gabriel had on my waist. And I’d start with that cheese-and-cracker platter Monroe was standing next to.
Primrose stopped in the act of picking up a couple of glasses and stared at me in shock. “You’ll do no such thing. You’re a guest here.
And
you’re on your honeymoon!”
Oh, yeah.
The bloom had already faded from that rose. “It’s okay,” I said. “We just got married yesterday, but we’ve been together for a while now. We’re both past the clingy stage. It seems wrong to let you go to so much trouble for us and then not even help carry a few dishes into the kitchen.”
Hyacinth swept some crumbs from the coffee table into her hand and then started toward Monroe, who was still shoveling in cheese and crackers as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. I wasn’t about to let her grab up my one excuse for getting close to the man, so I abandoned Primrose with an apologetic smile and made a beeline for the sideboard.
Hyacinth had at least forty years and as many pounds on me, but she still managed to beat me to the platter. I pulled up just in time to hear Monroe ask, “Any chance you’ll let me borrow your van to run an errand tomorrow?”
Hyacinth snatched up the platter and reached for a stack of napkins. “It’s not running.”
The smile on Monroe’s face slipped into confusion. “Oh. I thought you drove it to the market this afternoon.”
“It broke down after that,” Hyacinth snapped. And then, as she noticed me standing there, she softened her tone a little and added, “I’m sorry, Monroe. I would let you borrow it if I could.”
Insincerity rang from every word, but either Monroe was truly unaware or an extremely talented actor. “What’s wrong with it?”
“How would I know?” Hyacinth said. “I’m not a mechanic.”
“What happens when you try to start it? Does it grind or click?”
“It clicks. I’ll have someone look at it tomorrow.”
Monroe frowned thoughtfully and glanced toward the door. “Do you want me to take a look at it? I’m pretty good with an engine, you know.”
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head so hard, her chins wobbled. “You’re a guest here. I wouldn’t think of it.”
Monroe laughed and nudged her with a shoulder. “Aw, come on, Hy. It’s been awhile, I know, but you can’t really think of me as just a guest.”
I’d been right to suspect a history with these people, but it didn’t seem like a friendly connection. I felt a protective surge at the thought of any of these people taking advantage of Old Dog Leg.
I couldn’t just stand there, obviously eavesdropping, so I looked around for something to do. Hyacinth and Primrose had already cleared up most of the mess, so my options were severely limited. I decided to plump the couch cushions—which I figured could use a little tender loving care after holding Dontae up for the past hour.
I gave the first cushion an enthusiastic whack.
Hyacinth slid a glance at me, which I pretended not to notice. When she spoke again, her voice was so low I had a little trouble hearing her. “You’ve paid for your room, Monroe, and I’ve agreed for Sister’s sake to let you stay. But don’t push me or you’ll be sorry.”
My heart jumped inside my chest as I whacked the cushion for a second time.
“I’m not trying to push, Hyacinth. You know why I’m here. I’m not going to hurt anybody, I swear. If you’re having trouble with the van, let me help. There might be snow on the roof”—he pointed to his head—“but I still know how to do a few things. Give me the key and let me see what I can do.”
Pastor Rod excused himself from his conversation with Gabriel and edged into Hyacinth’s conversation with Monroe before either of them saw him coming. “I think that sounds like a fine idea, Monroe. You can get the van back on the road and save the ladies a few dollars in the process.”
Hyacinth’s head whipped toward the preacher so quickly I thought her hair would shift to one side. Her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared, but to my surprise she said only, “That’s really not necessary, Pastor.”
“Sometimes we’re called to serve,” Pastor Rod said gently, “and sometimes we’re called to be served. You just might be blessing Monroe by letting him offer you a helping hand.”
Hyacinth looked unconvinced, but she grudgingly conceded the argument. “If you say so, Pastor. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you look at it,” she said with an unhappy scowl for Monroe, and then she waved a hand toward a couple of chairs against the far wall. “If you’re so het up about serving Sister and me, why don’t you start by carrying those extra chairs back to the dining room?”
Monroe trailed her across the room, and since I couldn’t race him for the chairs without raising eyebrows, my chance to talk with him walked off with him. I whacked the couch cushion again, this time out of frustration.
As Monroe carried one of the chairs out of the parlor, Cleveland stood to confront Pastor Rod. “What’d you do that for? It’s a bad idea to encourage him, if you ask me.”
Pastor Rod lifted one shoulder to show his lack of concern. “It’ll be fine, Cleveland. You’ll see. Monroe just wants to help.”
“Yeah? Well, Hyacinth don’t need his brand of help. Neither does Primrose. None of us does, in fact. If you ask me, they ought to send that troublemaker on his way tonight.”
“I’m not sending him away,” Primrose cried, slamming down the glass she was holding. It hit the table and shattered, and a shocked silence fell over the room. Primrose’s thin face was tight and angry. Her eyes blazed. “Why do you have to be so mean and hateful?” she shouted at Cleveland. “Just let it go. It’s water under the bridge.”
The pastor made soothing noises, but nobody was paying attention to him. Gabriel crossed the room to stand by me and mouthed, “These people are crazy.” He’d get no argument from me.
Cleveland shook a finger in Primrose’s face. “You’re too naïve. Always have been.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s not as if
you’ve
never done anything wrong,” she snarled. “How would you like it if I held all of your mistakes over your head?”
I’d seen Gabriel break up a couple of fights at the Dizzy Duke, but he made no move to come between these two old people, both of whom looked ready to lunge at the other without warning. I took his inaction as a sign that he was as fascinated and curious about their relationships as I was.
The pastor made a more determined effort to soothe the troubled waters. His face set in steely determination, he pushed between Cleveland and Primrose. His voice was gentle but firm. “Now, now. You two have been friends a long time. Don’t let this come between you.”
Cleveland took a step back and snorted. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”
Primrose wrapped her thin arms around herself and sniffed loudly. “Only because you’re so completely unreasonable.”
They were both still upset, but I thought they looked a little less ready to escalate the hostilities, so I said, “I thought Monroe was a friend of yours. He seems like a nice enough guy.”
“How would you know?” Cleveland snarled. “You met him five minutes ago.”
Primrose glared at him. “You’d better not let Hyacinth hear you talking to our guests like that.” She took a deep breath and brushed a curl from her forehead. “And in answer to your question, Monroe is a perfectly nice man.”
I thought she was going to say more, but Hyacinth flew into the parlor at a speed I wouldn’t have expected from a woman her size. “What’s going on in here?”