The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off (17 page)

“Oh, honey, I'll be on the sofa when you get home. No way am I going to let you heat up wieners and not hear about it. Hell's bells, I might even pray that you want to go to bed with him and he's too righteous to have sex after the prayers you've been sending up on my behalf,” Carlene said.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“No, darlin', I have a sexy imagination. Have fun. And tell Aunt Sugar to listen to her doctor. Daddy says that she's been arguing about her medicine. She thinks prayer can heal her,” Carlene said.

“Oh, dear,” Alma Grace groaned.

***

Violet Prescott valued her gold fingernail on her right forefinger more than any of her vast collection of jewelry. Once a week she had her nails done at Ella's Beauty Shop. Kayla, the fingernail expert at Ella's, always carefully removed the fingernail, manicured and polished her nails, then replaced the gold nail with special adhesive. Violet simply
had
to get out of the hospital on Monday or she would miss her appointment.

The curtain drawn between Violet's part of the room, on the side toward the windows, and Josie's, on the side beside the door into the hallway, did not filter out the whining about that damned gold fingernail. The aide sighed when she came in with a lunch tray and disappeared with it on the other side of the curtain.

“This soup is lukewarm,” Violet said. “And I couldn't possibly eat a baked potato. I need toast and tea.”

The aide rolled her eyes as she passed the end of Josie's bed. She returned with Josie's tray and moved the bedside table over Josie's lap.

“You need to eat, honey. If you don't, you won't go home. Try the chicken soup and drink the broth if nothing else.” The aide smiled.

Josie managed a weak grin. “I don't think it will stay down.”

“The potato is pretty good after all. I think I can eat part of it,” Violet said.

The aide went out into the hallway and brought back a nurse. “I'll put a shot of anti-nausea medicine in your IV, Josie. That should help.”

“Thank you,” Josie said.

“Hey, y'all over there. I'd like another potato and when are you coming to change these sheets. They are wrinkled up under my body and causing pain. They are rough and I feel like I'm lying on sand,” Violet yelled.

The aide leaned down and whispered, “I have to write down what and how much you eat and I'm serious, ma'am, if you don't eat, you have to stay longer.”

“Okay, I'll do my best. If I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to strangle that woman in the other bed,” Josie whispered.

The aide whispered, “If you do, I'll open the window for you and toss her out of it. And if you tell anyone that I said that, I'll get fired.”

“Thank you, Esmeralda.” Josie read the Hispanic girl's name tag.

“You are very welcome, Miz Josie. I don't know how you stand her constant whining.”

Josie was napping when she heard the door open again. There was no rest for the dying in the hospital for sure. If they weren't taking vitals, they were drawing blood or bringing food that wouldn't stay down.

She barely opened one eye. “Who in the hell are you?”

Alma Grace giggled. “You look like hell.”

“Well, you don't look much better in that paper robe and mask. Hell, I thought they were coming to take me to surgery. I told y'all not to come up here. I can be sick and the store will still run. If y'all get sick, it's a different story.”

Alma Grace pulled a slushy from behind her back. “I've had the flu shot so I'm protected. I brought you a prize. I even went to the store that makes lemon-lime so it wouldn't upset your stomach.”

Josie reached for it.

“Your hands are shaking. I'll hold. You sip,” Alma Grace said.

“That tastes so good. Thank you, Alma Grace. Who would have thought when I left work Friday that I'd be laid up and you'd be looking like shit in that getup? How are you all? No one else is sick?”

“I've got a date with that cute deputy who brought Carlene's divorce papers,” Alma Grace whispered and pointed at the curtain. “I don't want her to know. He's the youth director at the church over in Luella and the gossip will start soon enough without her knowing.”

Josie took another sip from the straw and motioned the cup away. “And the other girls? I've been so worried that I infected the whole lot of you.”

“Carlene is with Aunt Gigi. Patrice is at a family reunion with Yancy. She was going to cancel but Uncle Alex said for her to go on, that Aunt Tansy was sleeping most of the time anyway. She'll be spending the evening with her mama so her dad can have a break.”

“Oh, my God!” Violet screamed.

Josie shut her eyes. Anyone with that much volume and who could eat two baked potatoes should be catapulted out of the hospital, not wheeled out in a chair by a good-looking orderly.

“Nurse, nurse! Where's my call button? God Almighty! It's gone.”

“Should I go over there?” Alma Grace asked.

“Hell, no!”

Alma Grace peeked around the curtain and quickly dropped it. “That was not a pretty sight. They really should put backs in those hospital gowns or else she should wear panties.”

Josie shivered.

“It's gone. I can't find it. I'm going to faint,” Violet screamed.

Two aides and a nurse darted past Josie's bed like marathon runners.

“Miz Prescott, what are you doing out of bed? You're going to rip your IV out. Settle down now and we'll get you squared away again.”

“It's gone! I tell you, it's gone. It was there after I ate so I know I didn't eat it. But now it's gone!”

“What is gone?” Esmeralda asked.

“My gold fingernail. It has to be in the bed somewhere and you've got to find it. My son gave it to me for Christmas years ago,” Violet screeched.

Alma Grace clamped a hand over her mask to keep the giggles at bay.

Josie didn't even try to keep quiet. Though weak, her laughter filled the room.

The curtain flew open and Violet glared at Josie. “Don't you dare laugh at me! I caught this at your store. You probably gave it to me.”

Josie sat up so fast that her head spun and she had to grab the rail. “You sneezed on me!”

Esmeralda grabbed the curtain and swung it shut. “Settle down Miz Prescott before you yank that IV right out. They hurt going in, remember? You cried and yelled with the pain when we had to stick you so you don't want to go through that again. I'm thinking that your fingernail probably fell off into the other sheets when I changed them after lunch.”

Violet whined. “Then go to the laundry room and find it.”

“Miz Prescott, that's not even a possibility,” the nurse said. “There are hundreds and hundreds of sheets and towels in the laundry with dozens of washers and dryers going around the clock. We will not waste a single work hour looking for one gold fingernail.”

“I will have your job,” Violet hissed.

“Honey, I'll be glad to give it to you, especially this week,” the nurse said seriously.

Josie laughed again but the curtain didn't even flutter. “Give me that slushy. I can hold it now. I'm much stronger.”

Alma Grace pulled up a chair and handed the cup to her. “Carlene says if you're still here tomorrow night, she'll be up to see you. And if you get to go home, she'll bring you food and slushies every day until you are well. Patrice says that she'll bring tequila so you can make that wicked green stuff. She says that if it will cure a hangover, it'll be death on the flu.”

“She's a prophet.” Josie sighed.

Patrice picked up the remote and turned off the ten o'clock news when she heard the motorcycle in the driveway. “Sounds like she's home.”

Carlene raised an eyebrow.

“No, we won't peek out the curtains. She's old enough to date, to kiss, and to even have sex, and besides, he's a youth director, for God's sake. I bet he doesn't even kiss her.” Patrice answered the unasked question.

“And if he does and we miss it?”

“We'll know, believe me.” Patrice's eyes danced.

Alma Grace floated into the living room, a smile on her face, cheeks all aglow from being close to a bonfire and lips bee-stung from kissing, not once but many times.

“Kissing on a first date?” Carlene asked.

“Did you both ask God if that was all right?” Patrice asked.

“Yes, we did kiss and, no, we did not pray about it. And I'm not discussing it because it will jinx the whole thing. But yes, I like him a lot.”

“I bet we can get her to tell us everything that happened. Every single little detail, like if there was tongue and did he get to second base?” Patrice said

“If she drinks this, I bet we really can.” Carlene held up a bottle of Boone's Strawberry wine.

Alma Grace shook her head emphatically as she plopped down in a chair. “Not even if I drank all of that.”

“Want to tell us why you bought it?” Patrice asked.

“What makes you think I did?”

“Well, neither one of us drink it so we wouldn't buy it,” Carlene said.

“Okay, if you'll leave me alone about Rick, I'll tell you about the wine.”

Patrice held out her hand.

Carlene put a five-dollar bill in it.

“What's that all about?”

“I bet her five dollars you'd fold and tell us about the wine. She didn't think you'd own up to it even if we preached a sermon about how drinking was vile and wicked or if I started praying,” Patrice said.

“You praying? That'll be the day,” Alma Grace said. “How'd you really find out about the wine?”

“I ran into Floy in the store when I went for Popsicles and she asked me why you were seen buying wine yesterday. I guess her neighbor's daughter works in the convenience store,” Carlene explained.

Alma Grace threw the back of her hand over her forehead in true Scarlett O'Hara style. “Do we ever do anything that isn't broadcast all over town?”

“Not in my twenty-plus-years in this place,” Patrice said.

Sitting up, Alma Grace sighed heavily. “Patrice, you said that flu germs live on slick surfaces for forty-eight hours, remember?”

Both cousins stared at her as if she had two heads and only one eyeball.

“I was going to take the wine bottle into Josie and Violet's room today and hopefully one or both of them would cough on it or sneeze on it. It's got a slick surface,” she explained.

“You wouldn't make someone sick. Not over fake wings and a tinsel halo. You are too sweet for that,” Patrice declared.

“Yes, I would. It's Macy's favorite kind of wine and I planned to leave it on her front porch so she'd get the flu. I wanted her to cough for weeks and not be able to wear my wings and sing in the choir. So there.”

“You pray that Lenny and Carlene will get back together and then you give him the flu? What if she gives the flu to Lenny by kissing him and then Carlene did let him kiss her? It would be all your fault if your cousin died,” Patrice said bluntly.

Alma Grace clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my sweet Jesus. I didn't think about that. I was just trying to make Macy sick. I forgot that she'd been flirting with Lenny.”

“What changed your mind?” Carlene asked.

“God said no and didn't leave a bit of wiggle room when He did. He said that revenge belonged to Him and I was to back off.”

“Well, shit!” Patrice exploded. “I wish you would have fixed it so she got the flu and Lenny died with it. And since when do you listen when God says no? He's been tellin' you that ever since Carlene and Lenny split but you don't listen to him on that issue.”

Alma Grace held up a finger.

“Listen to me. Floy sneezed all over Macy. She swears it was just allergies. God can't expect me to pray for her after what she did so I will not feel guilty when she comes down with the flu or when Macy gets it. Honest, right hand to God, I wouldn't have done it if I'd thought Carlene would get sick.”

“Well, thank you, Alma Grace.” Carlene smiled. “Now tell us about Josie.”

“I'd rather hear what happened on the way home from that bonfire. Did you have sex?” Patrice said.

Alma Grace blushed scarlet. “We did not! But the funniest thing happened at the hospital.”

She went on to tell about Violet's tantrum over the fingernail, not leaving out a single detail.

“Does Agnes know?” Carlene asked between hiccups.

“Oh, honey!” Alma Grace said. “Do you think I'd leave the hospital without checking in on her? That would be unchristian of me. Besides I was already decked out in mask and gown and”—she leaned forward—“Josie made me promise I'd go see her before I left.”

“What did she say?” Patrice asked.

“She laughed so hard she got a coughing fit and I wished for the wine bottle just in case God changed his mind. I told her about it and she said that she would have licked the damn bottle if I'd brought it.”

“Well, Tansy!” A familiar voice said behind her.

Alma Grace clapped both her hands on her head and ducked. “Where is it? Tell me it's a big joke y'all are playing on me. You know Aunt Tansy's bird hates me.”

***

Patrice had been giggling with Carlene but now she pointed to the corner where a cockatiel paced back and forth along a four-foot rod attached to a four-foot stand. “Mama was terrified that Dakshani would get the flu from her so she made me bring him home. Mama made me bring his exercise bar and even his jewelry. She was afraid that he'd be lonely without his things.”

Alma Grace removed her hands and sat up straight. “He's roped down to that bar, isn't he?”

“By a very expensive rhinestone leash attached to his leg,” Carlene said.

“And you won't let him off it when I'm in the house?”

Patrice crossed her chest and held up two fingers. “I promise.”

“Why couldn't a black cat or a cute little poodle help her psychic powers? They wouldn't light on my head every time they got a chance.” Alma Grace said.

“Well, Tansy!” Dakshani squawked the only two words he knew again.

Carlene laughed. “Maybe he thinks your curly hair looks like a nest.”

“Well, Tansy!” Dakshani yelped louder.

Patrice pointed at the bird. “Hush!”

He turned his back and splattered his answer on the newspaper below the bar, fluffed his feathers, and tucked his head under his wing.

“Now,” Patrice said, “I've got gossip. Hopefully, it will take the heat off us at the shop for a few days and we can get things back to normal. Cathy Andrews is taking a week off from Clawdy's. She and John from out at the Rib Joint got married at the courthouse Friday and they've gone on a honeymoon.”

Alma Grace unzipped her boots and removed them. “It's about time. She's been living with him for months.”

Patrice held up a hand. “She's pregnant. Trixie says that she's over-the-moon happy.”

“Think Marty will ever settle down?” Alma Grace asked.

Carlene yawned. “I wish Lenny would ask Marty out. She'd teach him a thing or two.”

“Marty only dates cowboys. If it ain't got boots and a Stetson, Marty don't give it the time of day and believe me she wouldn't go out with him after the way he's treated you.” Patrice giggled and fished her phone from her jacket pocket. She hit a couple of buttons and waited. “Hi, Kim. I'm just calling to check on you, make sure you didn't get the flu. Yes, Alma Grace is home from her date and, yes, she did have a wonderful time.”

Patrice nodded. “Why, yes, I did hear about Cathy Andrews.”

A pause and then, “Oh, honey, we shouldn't judge. That little baby might grow up to be a minister in our church but I heard that Marty might be hearing the tick of her biological clock. I'd sure hate to see her go out with Lenny.”

Alma Grace gasped.

“Oh, please don't repeat that. I'm not even sure I heard it right but it won't happen anyway. It's probably just a rumor but why else would he be looking at a pair of boots and a Stetson? Marty has never gone out with a feller that wasn't a cowboy.”

She winked at her cousins. “Don't tell anyone about Marty. Talk to you later.”

“Why did you do that?” Carlene asked.

“It'll make Bridget and Macy both mad if they think he's lookin' at Marty,” Patrice said. “I might be mad at Alma Grace for not supporting you the way she should but I'll still take up for her sorry ass.”

“Well, thank you, I think. But Marty don't deserve that,” Alma Grace argued.

“Ah, she'll shoot him down so fast that he'll wonder what in the devil hit him. It's not as good as the flowers and it'll take some heat off of us,” Patrice said.

“But you lied,” Alma Grace whispered.

“I did not lie. I'm sure at some time in his life Lenny looked at boots and hats. How could he not? Macy wears boots to work every day and Lenny's boss wears cowboy boots.”

They'd both shut their bedroom doors and Patrice was changing the newspaper scattered under Dakshani's bar when she felt a presence behind her. A peek over her shoulder revealed Yancy sprawled out on her sofa in Longhorn lounging pants and a thermal shirt. He'd slipped in the door and she hadn't even heard him.

Yancy adjusted a throw pillow under his neck and covered up with a throw from the back of the sofa. “Skunk sprayed under my house and I didn't deserve his attention the way that Lenny did. Do you mind if I crash here until morning? I'll be out of the house before y'all even wake up. I'll call Jack tomorrow morning and he can send out animal control to take care of the skunk.”

Patrice dropped a kiss on his forehead. “You don't have to sleep on the sofa. You can sleep with me.”

“The sofa is fine. What is that thing in the corner?”

“That is Mama's psychic bird, Dakshani. He's roped down and roosting for the night.”

Yancy set her hormones to humming when he smiled. “So I'm sharing the room with a psychic bird? Will he tell me my fortune in the morning?”

Patrice kissed him—hard, long, and lingering. “I can tell your fortune right now. You are hot as hell and you are going to bed with me.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again—hotter, longer, more passionate. “But you'll have to be quieter than usual or else take a ribbing tomorrow from your cousins. I love you, Patrice.”

“I love you, too, and, darlin', I can be quiet,” she said.

“It'll be the first time.”

***

“Well, Tansy!” Gigi said.

“That makes me miss Dakshani. I swear it's your voice that he talks in,” Tansy said.

“Carlene says the bird is fine. They've got him set up in the corner by that window and he's prancing from one end to the other squawking at the neighbor's cat,” Gigi reassured her.

Sun poured into the room through floor-to-ceiling windows in the sitting room at Tansy's house. She lounged on a plush brown leather love seat with end tables and a coffee table in front of her. Gigi had claimed one of the pale yellow, buttery soft recliners that made up the sitting arrangement. A pitcher of sweet tea, a silver bucket of ice, and three glasses were set in the middle of the coffee table.

Tansy poured two glasses and propped herself up on the throw pillows. “There's no way that cat can get in the house, is there? Poor Dakshani would have a heart attack if that cat chased him.”

“Of course not. Now tell me, are we going to live and get even with Violet for giving this to us?”

“Of course we're going to live. We have to win the chili cook-off. The woman in the mirror scared the hell out of me this morning. I think I had the flu worse than you did. Where is Hank? I sent Alex off to work just to get him out of my hair. He's smothering the hell out of me. The nurse said my fever broke but I still feel weak as a kitten.”

“That's what the nurse told me this morning, too, so I sent Hank to work, too, and then I made Carlene drive me over here. If I had to stay in that bedroom another day I'd climb the walls.”

Tansy set her glass back on the table and slung her legs over the side of the love seat. “While I was drifting between this world and the next, all I could think about was chili. Even without Dakshani here, I had a vision about the cook-off. Of course we won. Oh, and look what I got in the mail today.” She handed Gigi a lovely get-well card. “Read the note inside.”

“I'm enclosing my great-grandmother's recipe for war-time chili. It only calls for a cup of meat and lots of kidney beans. My husband is on the Money-Maker chili team and he refuses to even look at it. Since you all have opened a door to us women, we are planning to form a team next year and I'll be serving war-time chili for sure. Thank you, Millie Donavan.”

“Looks like we really did open the way for a new bunch of teams. There might be enough money in a couple of years to build a brand-new fire station.” Gigi handed the card back to her. “Now tell me about your dream.”

“I was wearing green beads like a Mardi Gras necklace only it had seven little chili peppers hanging on it. And we were all stirring a pot of chili,” Tansy wheezed.

“Was it a big black cauldron and we all showed our boobs so we could get more necklaces?” Gigi asked.

“Don't make fun of me. I'm telling you about my vision. You are the necklace, Gigi. You make the basic chili that we all like and then we all gather round the pot and put in one ingredient. We'll write it down and put it in your jewelry safe. When we win, then we'll make it the same way every year.”