The Cherry Cola Book Club (6 page)

Maura Beth quickly realized that her fears about Councilman Sparks attending the meeting were not groundless. Clearly, he was there to make trouble with his subtle digs, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of showing her irritation. “If members would like to view the film in addition to reading the book, I would certainly have no objections. That would make an excellent point of comparison for our discussions.”

“Clever girl. You should run for office with that answer,” Councilman Sparks added. “I couldn't have put it better myself.”

“So, if there's no further input, shall we vote on my suggestion?” Maura Beth continued, ignoring his comment.

After a few more stray remarks that produced no fireworks, the vote was unanimous in favor of
Gone with the Wind,
even though Becca reminded everyone not to forget about her forthcoming cookbook as an aside. Then it was decided that the group would take a month to read the novel and reconvene on August 17 to discuss it—a straightforward enough proposition.

Councilman Sparks, however, continued to play devil's advocate. “What if someone else enrolls in a few weeks and doesn't have enough time to read the book? Will you allow use of
CliffsNotes
?”

Maura Beth waited for the awkward titters to subside before answering. “This isn't a course, and we're not here to be graded, Councilman. We're here to think, have a good time, and enjoy some good food.” Then she decided it would be best to pull the plug. “So, if there are no other questions . . . I think this organizational meeting will come to an end.”

“And don't forget, I'll be giving y'all a call to work out who's going to bring what to eat,” Becca put in at the last second. “We'll try to make sure everyone whips up one of their best dishes.”

 

Maura Beth did not much care for Councilman Sparks lingering behind after everyone else had left. She did not want to hear what he had to say, knowing quite well that it could not possibly be of a constructive nature. Nevertheless, she resumed her position behind the podium, subconsciously viewing it as a means of protection as much as anything else. Then she plastered a grin on her face and looked directly into his eyes as he spoke.

“I admire your organizational skills, Miz Mayhew,” he began. “You run a tight ship just the way I do. But perhaps it's time you faced up to the possibility that your tight ship is also sinking fast. I'm just wondering if all this furious activity of yours isn't much ado about nothing. I hope you realize that a handful of people picnicking in the library is not going to alter the equation here. It may end up amusing a few intellectual types in the community, but I can't see it becoming popular with the masses. I just don't think that dog will hunt in Cherico.”

Maura Beth frowned. “We're just getting off the ground. Don't you think you should cut us a little slack?”

“I know you're intelligent enough to understand that even if you doubled the number of people you had in here tonight, it wouldn't be enough to keep the library open when we bear down on the budget,” he said, arching his eyebrows.

But she matched his glibness with sturdy body language of her own, leaning toward him with her chin up. “You've made that quite clear. Maybe I have more faith in the public than you do. But never mind that. I still think it's odd that you just don't close me down right now, particularly if you're so sure that nobody will care.”

“Are you daring me to do that, Miz Mayhew?”

She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Impressive,” he answered, turning off his dazzling smile in an instant. “You called my bluff. Chunky and Gopher Joe are way too intimidated to even try something like that. The truth is, if I don't know anything else, I know my politics. And if by some miracle, you should pack every resident of Cherico into your little library five and a half months from now, I don't want to be on the outside looking in. I'll pretend that I knew you'd succeed all the time, and no one will be the wiser. I'll have my attendance at every one of your meetings as my proof, too. So, thank you very much for the invitation to shutter you sooner rather than later, but I think I'll keep all my options open. For the time being, that will be my official position.”

Maura Beth took a deep breath, having weathered the latest go-round. “So you'll be dropping in on our review of
Gone with the Wind
next month, I take it?”

“I wouldn't miss it. I've always wanted to observe a literary hen fest.”

“We'll do our best to amuse you,” Maura Beth replied, matching his sarcastic smile. “And maybe Becca Broccoli can even get someone to cook up an omelet just for you. Perhaps a little cheese added to make you feel right at home.”

He leaned over the podium and winked. “Yum, yum!”

As she watched him walk away from her after their perfunctory farewells, Maura Beth steadied herself by grabbing the podium and whispering the phrase she had used earlier in the evening when they'd changed the name of the club. Over and over it came out of her like a soothing mantra: “Out of the mouths of babes . . . out of the mouths of babes . . . out of the mouths of babes . . .”

But when Councilman Sparks reached the front door, turned, and gave her a neat little bow, she couldn't help herself, knowing full well he couldn't hear her at that great distance: “. . . as well as charming rascals up to God-knows-what.”

I
t was beyond annoying to Maura Beth that Councilman Sparks's snide prediction that the group would end up rehashing the movie version of
Gone with the Wind
stuck in her craw over the next couple of weeks. That, and the lingering feeling that she might have been a bit too heavy-handed with the others at the organizational meeting of what was now to be called The Cherry Cola Book Club. It seemed that no one really wanted to read and review
Gone with the Wind
again except herself, but she had prevailed with authority. Yes, she had promised them that they could explore new angles and ideas regarding the time-honored classic, but she herself had failed to come up with anything viable, despite constant brainstorming. Was anyone else having any better luck?

In fact, she was about to dial Connie McShay's number from her office one slack afternoon when Renette Posey appeared in the doorframe, holding the library's DVD copy of
Gone with the Wind
and looking decidedly puzzled.

“I'd like to ask you a quick question. Don't worry—there's no one waiting at the front desk to check out. Even worse, there's nobody in the library at all. Hasn't been all morning,” she explained on the way to Maura Beth's cluttered desk. “It's about this movie I'm returning. I got curious when I read your
Gone with the Wind
flyer.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I watched it last night for the first time with a few girlfriends of mine, and we did the slumber party thing in pajamas at my apartment. I know, it sounds lame, like something out of high school. We fooled with each other's hair, talked about boyfriends, popped popcorn, and ate all sorts of junk food. But after the movie was finally over—it went on forever, and thank God for that intermission so we could all take a bathroom break—we sat cross-legged on the floor in a circle and came to the same conclusion.”

Maura Beth straightened up in her chair. “And what was that?”

“Well, we decided that every one of us acted in real life like either Scarlett or Melanie, for the most part. We even wondered if every woman might fall into one category or the other. Do you think there's anything to that, or is it just a silly, slumber party idea from a bunch of single girls on a sugar high?”

Maura Beth couldn't help but snap her fingers and smile. “Renette, I'd give you a raise if I had the money!”

“Really, Miz Mayhew?”

“I wish I could, of course. But that's a great idea you and your friends had. By the way, which character were you? Or should I say, are you?”

“Oh, everyone thought I was a Melanie,” Renette answered, growing quieter and hanging her head slightly. “I've been called a goody-goody too many times to be anything else. But that's who I am—I like helping people.”

“You certainly do!” Maura Beth exclaimed. “You're a star with our scanner, and you tell the patrons about their overdues with honey dripping in your voice. They never get mad—I've gotten so many compliments about you.”

Someone calling out, “Hello?” from somewhere in the library broke up their exchange, and Renette turned, dashing toward the front desk to attend to her duties. But Maura Beth made a note to herself to find a way to give her pleasant young clerk a little more in her paycheck, even if she had to juggle a line item or two in the books to get the job done. Landing in her lap from an innocuous slumber party was the perfect angle for the upcoming
Gone with the Wind
outing.

“Declare your allegiance!” would be the challenge she would issue to Miss Voncille, Connie, and Becca over the phone with supreme confidence. “How do you see yourself in today's world—as a Scarlett or a Melanie?”

Suddenly, she could sweep aside the insecurities that had been plaguing her about her leadership style and choice of material. She could even tempt Periwinkle with the ploy, especially since her best girlfriend had already generously agreed to send some sherry custard along from The Twinkle as an extra dessert.

“If things start to go wrong,” she had told Maura Beth over the phone just a few days before, “you can at least get you a little buzz off the sherry. Sometimes, when I go home alone, that's all I have to look forward to.”

“Now, come on, Periwinkle. Enough of the lonely, sherry custard-eating, sob stories,” Maura Beth had returned before signing off with a friendly promise. “I'm going to find a way to get you to take a break from that kitchen and into our book club if it's the last thing I do!”

For the moment, however, she had to run Renette's slumber party angle past her existing membership, and she decided that Connie would be the first she would dial up.

“Are you busy?” Maura Beth said after Connie answered. “You sound out of breath.”

“Well, you caught me. I'm out here on the pier grunting in a very unladylike manner with the fish scaler and hoping somebody will rescue me with a cell phone call like you just did.”

Maura Beth made a sympathetic noise under her breath. “Douglas isn't pitching in?”

“Nope, he's off to The Marina Bar and Grill for a round or two with his fellow fishermen. He did invite me to join him, but they're all about watching sports on TV and telling off-color jokes out there. Not my style.”

Maura Beth changed the subject quickly, launching into the exchange she'd had with Renette. “So what do you think of the Scarlett and Melanie debate?” she concluded.

There was silence at the other end for a while. “Your idea reminds me of something,” Connie said finally. “I know. Getting a Girl Scout badge for something that's really a stretch. Only this one would be for adults. You know, who gets the Scarlett badge and who gets the Melanie badge to sew on her blouse.”

“I wish I could see your face now,” Maura Beth added. “I can't tell whether you like the idea or not from what you just said.”

Connie broke the modest tension with a generous laugh. “Of course I like it. Maybe I didn't express myself so well. It's probably these fish fumes poisoning my brain cells.”

“You're too much. But thanks for the vote of confidence on my idea.”

Next up was Miss Voncille, who seemed to be in an unusually prickly mood. “Do we have to dress up in costume?” she inquired after Maura Beth had explained everything. “What I mean is, if I decide I'm a Scarlett, do I have to rent one of those antebellum dresses complete with hoopskirts? Actually, I suppose I'd have to do the same if I were a Melanie. And my hair isn't long enough to be done up in ringlets the way they did back then. So that would mean I'd have to buy a wig. I can tell a woman wearing a wig a mile away. And men in bad toupees no matter what the distance.”

“This isn't a costume ball, Miss Voncille.”

“Thank goodness!”

“So what's your verdict?” Maura Beth continued.

“Fine with me,” came the reply, though with little enthusiasm. But a sudden infusion of warmth soon followed. “What I'm more excited about is my friendship with Locke Linwood. We're starting to go out on dinner dates and such. Of course, it's all very innocent at the moment, you understand, and I'm trying very hard to soften my image on these occasions.”

“That's lovely to hear, Miss Voncille. You keep at it. We'll expect both you and Mr. Linwood at the meeting in your regular clothes and hair.”

Then it was time to speak with Becca. Seemingly not to be outdone by her unpredictable friends, she offered an off-the-wall proposal once Maura Beth had given her all the facts.

“I think it's a really cute idea,” she began, “but why don't we make it even more of a theme than that? Everyone could make up a recipe that they think Scarlett or Melanie might have preferred to make or eat, and we could all compare notes.”

Maura Beth took a deep breath and tried her best to smile through the phone.

“I'm pretty sure neither Scarlett nor Melanie did much cooking in flush times. And after the Yankees came through and burned up all the crops, recipes were a fond memory for a while. Getting anything at all to eat was the goal. I appreciate your creativity, Becca, but let's just stick with the personality angle this time around.”

After they'd hung up, Maura Beth sat frowning at her desk for a few moments. Tricky stuff, this book club business. It was a delicate balancing act once people were in the fold, but it had to be worth the trouble. A kaput library was simply unacceptable.

 

The next day, Maura Beth decided she would keep Councilman Sparks in the loop, too. Of course, he hardly qualified as either a Scarlett or a Melanie. However, she could easily picture him wandering into the library smelling great, looking spiffy, and smiling from ear to ear to perform his irritating kibitzing act with aplomb to throw her off her game. Well, even though there had been no course at LSU in Dealing with Politicians 101, the truth was that she was living it now, like it or not, and there was no better way to learn her lessons than to face the politician in question without fear. Perhaps she could even throw him off his game.

“We'll be reading and commenting on
Gone with the Wind
from a particular perspective,” she began, sitting across from him in his inner office one afternoon. “All our members are women so far, as you know very well from the organizational meeting.” Then she explained the Scarlett versus Melanie theme to him and waited for his response.

Councilman Sparks took an awkward amount of time before answering while staring her down, but Maura Beth made a concerted effort not to fidget in her seat or otherwise indulge nervous body language. “Are you going to go feminist with this club, Miz Mayhew?”

“I wouldn't put it that way, no.”

“Because I was going to say that you might just be ruling out fifty percent of the population of Cherico with a girlie-girl approach,” he continued, flashing one of his dazzling, but completely insincere smiles. “Some men like to read, too.”

“Are you a reader, Councilman?”

He produced a peculiar laugh that came off more like an intrusive sound effect. “When it suits my purposes.”

“No doubt.”

He calculated a moment longer, tightening the muscles of his face further. “You're so full of unexpected visits these days. So, was this one to prepare me to do well at the upcoming book review and ‘all you can eat' buffet? Or was it to suggest that I stay away because I couldn't possibly fit in?”

“Oh, I don't think wild horses could keep you away. But I did think it was worth mentioning that I intend to give this project my all. When I first came here, I promised myself that I would make a success of the Cherico Library, and by that I meant to turn it into the type of facility that people just couldn't do without. I admit that it's been hard, slow going these past six years, but you may have ended up doing me a favor by challenging me the way you have. I trust you'll bring out my best professional instincts.”

Councilman Sparks shrugged his shoulders and seemed to relax his posture. “You have a penchant for soapboxing, Miz Mayhew. Maybe you could moonlight in my next election and write speeches for me. That is, in case this library thing of yours doesn't work out.”

At that point Maura Beth knew it was time to leave. She had summoned her courage to face her adversary once again and dealt with him aboveboard. Yet, he always had an answer or a clever quip for everything—a master of one-upmanship. She knew his intention was to wear her down, but she just couldn't let that happen.

“Well, if you'll excuse me, Councilman,” she said, rising from her chair. “I have a library to run.”

He rose across from her without smiling. “But for how long, Miz Mayhew? For how long?”

After what seemed like two months instead of two more weeks, the August 17th inaugural meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club finally arrived. Once again, Maura Beth had chosen to stage the festivities in the library lobby instead of the meeting room; but she had gone online and ordered some decorative touches to offset the drabness of the premises. As before with the flyers, Connie had been delighted to step up and fund them. Surrounding the refreshments table laden with the various dishes all the women had brought were blow-up movie posters of the stars of
Gone with the Wind
—Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable, Leslie Howard, Olivia de Havilland, and Hattie McDaniel. Maura Beth, Renette, and the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday front desk clerk—the amiable, hardworking Mrs. Emma Frost—had reinforced the Technicolor stills with cardboard backing and had spent the previous afternoon standing them up against some of the folding chairs. There in the background, the five Hollywood legends would bear silent witness to the drama that would be unfolding.