The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop (Cadillac, Texas #3)(61)

She’d far rather be sitting in her daughter’s beauty shop basking in the glory of having their argument settled. But oh, no! Everett had told her that if he was going to be responsible for smoking enough brisket, turkey, chicken, and pork tenderloin to serve the whole town of Cadillac, then by damn she was going to every meeting between now and the ball.

“I want you damn good and tired of all that shit so you won’t back out when it comes time to quit,” he had said.

When she got home, she intended to kiss him smack on the lips for making her go. This was better than a circus.

“Nancy, are you listening to me?” Heather asked sternly.

“I’m so sorry. My mind drifted. Now what was it you were saying?”

Heather did one of her dramatic inhale-deeply-and-blow-it-out-slowly rituals, but this time she added a glare in the mix. “I said that we will need equal amounts of pork loin and brisket, half as much chicken and turkey.”

“That’s what Everett planned on,” Nancy said. “He wants to know if it’s going to be open bar or bring your own beer or bottle.”

“This is an Angels affair,” Annabel gasped. “There will be no liquor of any kind or shape at the barbecue ball.”

Oh, Everett is going to love that idea after cooking for days. Why couldn’t they at least have beer?

“That’s right,” Heather said. “This is a formal affair. We will offer lemon-infused water and sweet tea and of course there will be a punch bowl on the table with all of Annabel’s gorgeous petits fours. And a smaller bowl on a little round table for those of us who are allergic to red punch and prefer the kind made with white grape juice and lemon-lime soda. I shall be in charge of the smaller one since I’m the one who can’t abide red punch.”

Nancy made a mental note. I’ll just bring a cooler and leave it in the car. Everett has one of those fancy can covers so no one will know. I’m not asking him to help me serve all night with nothing but lemon-infused water to drink.

“Now, on to the next item on the agenda. I’d like to get this all settled before we drive down to the barn and look it over. Ideas will just pop right out of our heads when we see the inside and figure out what we can do to make this the best affair in Cadillac. I can foresee people coming from miles away like they do for the jubilee.” Heather’s eyes actually went misty.

“Are you plannin’ on a carnival next year?” Nancy asked.

Annabel’s quick intake of breath said that Nancy was sure walking on thin ice. “Of course not! This will always be Cadillac’s formal affair. The jubilee is for families. The chili cook-off is to make money for the firemen’s fund and it’s also for families. But this is a holy affair.”

“Well put, Annabel.” Heather nodded.

A holy affair? Did that mean they would offer up a virgin on a hay bale at the end of the festivities? If that’s what Heather had in mind, she’d best start advertising for one real soon, because Nancy was pretty sure that none of the over-eighteen women in Cadillac would qualify.

Heather held a hand up toward heaven. “This will be Cadillac’s way of telling our Lord and savior that we appreciate his answering our prayers all year. The money that we take in will go straight into the church’s brand-new marriage ministry fund. I’ve talked to Reverend Jed about it and he said that we could keep whatever money we made for future projects for my ministry.”

“I’d like to see it used for a fund to help folks in need. Like broke people who have car trouble near Cadillac. Or young, single mothers who have trouble paying the rent,” Nancy asked.

“I’ve decided this is going into the MM fund, which stands for marriage ministry fund if you don’t understand the world of initials,” Heather said. “Why would you want such a fund, anyway? I asked you earlier if Stella was pregnant. Has that changed?”

Every eye in the room cut toward Nancy. “Not that I know about, but y’all remember that I asked you to pray for a husband first and then a baby. I don’t think God will get it backward. He’s pretty good at keepin’ things straight.”

Heather ignored her and shuffled a few more papers. “We will have music playing and the dance will go on from six to eight. I would like to be able to hire a harp and have a piano brought in, but it’s not possible this first year. So we have a sound system and CDs, but there will be none of that twangy country music. We’ll have true waltz instrumentals. That way there won’t be any of that sinful rubbing-all-over-each-other type of dancing.”

“Are you kidding me? Not a single one of the men in Cadillac will stay past the first dance,” Nancy said bluntly.

“Yes, they will, because the ladies will love it,” Heather protested.

“Have you got rocks for brains, woman?” Nancy asked.

She’d promised Everett she’d go to the damned old meetings. She had not promised to be good and not speak her mind.

“You are being contentious, Nancy Baxter, and you know what the Bible says about that. We are going to dance the waltz like civilized people, so get used to it.”

Before Nancy could answer that snide remark, Annabel raised her hand like a little first-grade girl in pigtails. “Miz Heather, I had a vision of all the single women being sent to the buyers’ balcony on one side and the single men to the other balcony. When you call out their names, then the guy . . . I mean, the gent . . . crosses the whole barn and offers his hand to the lady at the bottom step of her side.”