The Cherry Cola Book Club (20 page)

Maura Beth made her manners to the contingent, and Jeremy finished all the hoopla with a peck on the cheek for her. “As I told you over the phone, six is better than nothing,” he managed out of the corner of his mouth.

She pulled away slightly for her best smile. “You and I will talk later, Mr. Jeremy McShay of New Gallatin Academy.”

By five to seven, no one else had appeared, however, and the sweat began to bead across Maura Beth's forehead. Surely the handful of people who had shown up so far were not going to be the extent of the turnout. Perhaps people were caught in traffic. She nearly laughed out loud at that one. What on earth was she thinking? There was no traffic in peaceful little Cherico. Never had been, never would be.

Seven o'clock arrived, and Maura Beth continued to grasp at straws. Maybe the rest were just going to be late. Yes, fashionably late. That had to be the answer.

Then, finally, one minute past seven, more warm bodies. In this case—the Crumpton sisters. They made a grand entrance, indeed, with Mamie leading the way as usual. They were both overdressed for the occasion in floor-length ball gowns and matching clutches—Mamie in gold and Marydell in silver— giving the unmistakable impression that they had shown up principally to preen and be admired lavishly and often.

“Why, look at all this excitement! I had no idea there'd be so many people here,” Mamie began, surveying the lobby and striking a dramatic pose just inside the front door. “I thought this would be more like our ‘Who's Who?' meetings. Just a few of us hardy souls with a taste for genealogy and the twists and turns of local history. But Marydell and I are pleased to alter our Sunday evening routine to lend a hand, aren't we, sister dear?”

“Oh, yes,” came the answer, along with a predictably weak smile.

Even before Maura Beth had a chance to reply, however, Councilman Sparks stepped up to intercept the sisters by executing a pretentious little bow in front of them and then taking each of them by the arm. “May I have the honor of escorting such a delightful pair of ladies?”

“It seems you've assumed the honor before asking,” Mamie fired back. “But exactly where are we going?”

“To the buffet table, perhaps?”

Mamie gently pulled her arm away and looked him straight in the eye. “Durden, I believe I'd like to catch my breath first. Perhaps find a nice seat for the proceedings.”

“Then let me at least assist you with that,” he continued.

“Enjoy yourselves. Thanks so much for coming!” Maura Beth called out, watching them all move away and shaking her head. She knew quite well that Councilman Sparks was nothing if not deferential to money and social position, particularly when it lived on his street and contributed to his former campaigns.

Then, a trio of women whom Maura Beth did not recognize entered with wide eyes and a hint of confusion in their faces. One was young and slim with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, while the other two were matronly and somewhat overweight.

The slim woman spoke up immediately. “Hi, there. I'm Donna Gordon, and these are my friends, Paula Newhouse and Bettye Carter. Sorry we're late. First, we couldn't locate the library, and then we had trouble finding a parking space. We had to walk here from two blocks away.”

Maura Beth quickly introduced herself, maintaining a smile while her mind raced. Of course. That was probably why people were showing up late. No off-street parking. And Councilman Sparks had turned her down two years ago in no uncertain terms when she had inquired about creating a parking lot next door.

“. . . and we found out about your program because we're all fans of
The Becca Broccoli Show,
” Donna Gordon was saying when Maura Beth focused in again. “Not a show went by when she didn't mention you. We thought it might be something fun and different to do. We hadn't thought about the library in years.”

Maura Beth beamed. “Well, I'm so pleased you decided to come. Meanwhile, if you'd like to meet and chat with Becca, she's the short blonde standing next to the big guy in the cowboy boots over at the buffet table. And, yes, that's her Stout Fella in all his downsized glory.”

The trio thanked her and headed over, making all sorts of excited noises under their breath.

Maura Beth began to feel more comfortable. The head count had risen to fourteen, not counting the club members and the councilmen. Could a respectable number be far behind?

In fact, a steady succession began to stream in. Terra Munrow was all possessive smiles introducing her boyfriend with the conspicuous but undecipherable tattoo on his neck. “This is my Ricky I've been telling you about, Maura Beth. Do you have any books he could check out about motorcycles since he's a biker and all?”

“We sure do. I'd be happy to help you locate them any time you come in, Ricky. And by the way, Terra, we probably have a romance novel or two with guys on motorcycles in the plot.”

“Doubly righteous!” Ricky exclaimed while raising a fist in the air; then the two of them were off to the buffet table.

But nothing compared with the group of ten led by James Hannigan that showed up next from The Cherico Market. Once again, as Maura Beth had surmised, finding convenient parking spaces had been the culprit for their tardiness.

“We all ended up two streets over. I kept hoping you wouldn't start without us,” Mr. Hannigan concluded.

“I wouldn't have dreamed of it.”

Then Mr. Hannigan leaned in with another of his friendly winks. “Good. Because we wanted to support our Peanut Butter Cracker Lady at all costs. And it turns out I've got some readers in the store. They just haven't made the time to find their way to the library before. Guess you lit a fire under 'em with your book club to-do.”

When The Cherico Market contingent had finally dispersed, Maura Beth realized that the head count was inching toward thirty. They were probably going to need more chairs—and quickly. So she temporarily abandoned her station and hurried across the room to enlist Renette's help.

“Put down your plate for now, sweetie,” she told her. “We're going to be scrambling around after all. Quick, think. How many more chairs do we have in the closet?”

Renette squinted for a moment, moving her lips as she counted. “I think six, maybe seven of the folding. Oh, but we have eight more with the soft cushions in the meeting room.”

“Good catch!” Maura Beth exclaimed. “I forgot about those.”

“If this keeps up, looks like you'll get your standing room only wish,” Renette added as they headed toward the closet.

Nor was Maura Beth's urgency unwarranted. At least a dozen more people came through the front door. Among Connie's lakeside neighbors, the Brimleys and the Milners kept their promises to attend. Then Mr. Place walked in with his mother, who was a bit on the fragile side but still had kind, sparkling eyes.

“I'm Ardenia Bedloe,” she said to Maura Beth while extending her hand and smiling graciously. “I know you're not confused by that because my son told you all about changing his name, but I just wanted to thank you for introducing him to Miz Lattimore down at The Twinkle.”

“Oh, my friend Periwinkle is deliriously happy with all those delicious pastries he makes. His éclairs have been wowing everyone this evening, including myself.”

Mr. Place thanked her and then suddenly spotted Miss Voncille across the room. “Mama, I'd like to go speak to someone over by the food table and introduce her to you after all these years. She's the lady standing next to the white-haired gentleman.”

Ardenia trained her thick glasses in the direction of his index finger. “Who is she, baby?”

“Miss Voncille Nettles, my history teacher that first year Cherico High was integrated.”

“Oh, yes,” Ardenia replied, a smile exploding across her face. “I remember now. You liked her best.”

“Please go on over and make yourselves at home,” Maura Beth added. “I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you both. And help yourselves to the food and drink.”

Among the last six or seven people that showed, two more cited Becca's radio program as their inspiration, while the others credited a flyer from such businesses as The Cherico Market, The Twinkle, Cherico Tresses, or the library itself. Happily, The Cherry Cola Book Club was going to be playing to a full house.

 

Councilman Sparks took a dim view of the party going on full-blast after he had finished schmoozing the Crumpton sisters. Everyone present was eating, chatting, or laughing the way people do on New Year's Eve or some other carefree occasion. It particularly annoyed him that the library suddenly seemed to have discarded its perennial “just growing mold” personality.

Momentarily, Chunky intruded on his leader's pique. “Man, this sure is a helluva lot a' people in here!”

“It doesn't look good from our point of view,” Councilman Sparks replied under his breath, making sure that no one was within earshot. “I'd guess there are between forty and fifty people in this room. We've never had a budget hearing when that many people showed up.”

Chunky leaned in and responded in a half-whisper. “I know you told me not to, but I checked out the license plates around the library anyway. Didn't see but a couple from out of state, both from Tennessee. Davidson County, I believe it was. But there was a bunch from other Mississippi counties. I can rattle off the different ones if you want.”

“And no bus anywhere to be seen,” Gopher Joe added.

“Oh, never mind all that now. Both of you just go get something more to eat and try to mingle.”

Something told Councilman Sparks that he had better monitor the situation closely, however, so he kept both of his charges within an approachable radius. As it turned out, his concerns were definitely warranted.

“Hi!” Chunky said, immediately approaching one of Renette's girlfriends even before he'd helped himself to a plate of food. “What's your name and where do you live?”

The ordinarily extroverted Deborah Benedict shrank visibly from his directness, managing an imitation of a smile. “I might ask the same of you.”

“Well, I hope you voted for me. I'm E. A. Badham, one of your city councilmen. But folks call me ‘Chunky' most of the time,” he continued, while patting his bulging belly. “I guess you can see why.”

To her credit, Deborah did not pull away further, but neither did she answer his questions. “Well, then, Chunky, I think you should help yourself to more of this delicious food I'm sampling here. I've seen you make several trips already, if I'm not mistaken.”

The lurking Councilman Sparks soon intervened, giving Deborah a nod and a perfunctory smile. “If you'll excuse us for a second, young lady.” Then he pulled Chunky aside and lowered his voice. “Change of plans. You and Gopher Joe just concentrate on stuffing your faces. Forget the socializing. I don't know what I was thinking.”

There was no denying, however, that most everyone else had the knack of socializing down pat. Especially Maura Beth. From afar, Councilman Sparks watched her flitting around the room with such ease that he actually had to turn away at one point. The library was pulsating with an energy it had never possessed before, and it was all due to the outside-the-box efforts of this unusual woman who just refused to go away. More importantly, it would be difficult to shut down her pride and joy with all this to her credit.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Maura Beth was saying to Becca. They had managed to slip away into the privacy of the meeting room, closing the door behind them shortly before the actual review was about to begin. “Of course I'd be delighted to have you and Stout Fella here doing cooking demonstrations together every month. We need to get as much activity going in the library as possible.”

Becca exhaled and thought one more time about what she had just proposed. “I know it'll help you out. And Stout Fella promised even before he got out of the hospital in Nashville that he'd do his part, too.”

Maura Beth gave Becca a thoughtful glance. “So what do you think you should call these meetings?”

Becca took her time before a dramatic intake of air. “How about ‘Becca Broccoli in the Flesh'—you know, for those who just can't get enough of the radio show?”

“I certainly like your idea of becoming visible after all those years of just being a voice on the radio.”

“You know what gave me the idea?” Becca said, smartly raising an eyebrow. “It was all the conversations I've just had at the buffet table with some of my fans. They kept saying over and over how thrilled they were to see me in the flesh. One of them—I believe her name was Donna—said that putting my face with my voice made me seem all the more real. So I thought, ‘Why not meet more of my fans in person and help the library at the same time?' ”

Maura Beth was nodding enthusiastically now. “I bet it'll work out great. The only thing I'll need to do is make sure you don't conflict with ‘Who's Who?' and Miss Voncille. We don't want to start a turf war, but I have to admit the idea of people fighting over using the library is something I've been wanting for a long time.”

Becca smiled pleasantly and then reached over to gently grasp Maura Beth's hand. “There was something else I wanted to say to you. I've been meaning to for a while. You don't know how much it meant to me—and especially Stout Fella—that you came up to Nashville to visit us in the hospital when you did. That entire balloon thing you invented just brightened our days and nights, and we needed something out of the ordinary to get us through it all.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Maura Beth insisted, breaking her grip and waving her off. “I think that little trip helped me out as much as it helped you. I needed to clear my head.”