The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(23)

Paul nodded and squeezed her hand. “Tammie Lee had an ultrasound this afternoon and it seems we’re having a baby girl.” He smiled. “Sometimes they can’t be sure, but our technician was quite positive it’s a girl.”

“A girl,” Reese repeated and the happiness in his voice was unmistakable. He stood and clapped Paul on the back. “Did you hear that, Jacquie? We’re finally getting our baby girl!”

Jacqueline felt her hands go numb. “A granddaughter,” she repeated as the odd tingling sensation spread up her arms. Oh, how she’d once longed for a daughter.

“We haven’t chosen any names yet,” Tammie Lee rushed to add in that soft drawl of hers. It always made her sound as if she was talking underwater. “We only decided this afternoon that we wanted to know the sex of the baby. You’re the first people we’ve told.”

“Your mother and I had always hoped for a little girl,” Reese said, echoing Jacqueline’s thoughts.

“That’s…wonderful,” Jacqueline finally managed.

“We decided we should let you know, Mom,” Paul said, directing his attention to her for the first time, “so you’d know what color yarn to get for the baby blanket.”

“Mrs. Donovan, I declare, when Paul told me you were knitting a blanket for the baby, it just warmed my heart. Y’all have been so kind to me.” She planted both hands over her stomach and sighed.

That twang of Tammie Lee’s put Jacqueline’s teeth on edge. Some might find it pleasing, but to Jacqueline it sounded uneducated. Unrefined.

“There’s more news,” Paul said, moving toward the edge of the sofa cushion.

“More?” Reese said. “Don’t tell me you’re having twins.”

“Nothing like that.” Paul laughed shortly.

Tammie Lee grinned at her husband. “Twins! I’m so nervous about one baby, I can’t even imagine what would happen if we had two.”

Paul turned to share such a gentle look with his wife that Jacqueline glanced away. Any hope she had of her son regretting his marriage died a quick death.

“So what’s your other news?” Reese asked.

Paul’s face brightened. “I got word last week that Tammie Lee and I have been accepted into the Seattle Country Club.” The club, to which Jacqueline and Reese belonged, was the most prestigious in the area. New memberships were limited to only a few each year. It went without saying that only the right kind of people were accepted. One of Jacqueline’s first thoughts when she was introduced to Tammie Lee was that Paul had ruined his chances of ever joining the country club.

“I’m so pleased,” Jacqueline said, doing her best to smile. Apparently Tammie Lee’s lengthy and inappropriate discussions of southern cuisine hadn’t been as much of a detriment as she’d assumed.

“I’ve been asked to work on the cookbook committee,” Tammie Lee gushed as if this was the greatest compliment of her life. “I can’t tell you the number of times someone’s asked me to share my mama’s, Aunt Thelma’s and Aunt Frieda’s favorite recipes.”

“Recipes for what?” Jacqueline blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

“Mainly folks want to know about hush puppies. Four or five ladies have already asked me about those.”

“Hush puppies?”

“It’s like cornbread, Mother,” Paul supplied.

“I know what they are,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Paul loves my hush puppies,” Tammie Lee twanged in her eagerness to continue. “My mama told me they got their name from hunters who threw leftover ends of the cornbread to their dogs to keep ’em quiet at night.”

“This is the recipe you’re submitting to the Seattle Country Club Cookbook?” Jacqueline was convinced she’d never be able to show her face in public again.

“Oh, and I asked Mama for Grandma’s recipe for Brunswick stew, which is my daddy’s all-time favorite. My grandma was raised in Georgia before she married my grandpa and moved to Tennessee. I was almost eighteen before we moved to Louisiana, so I really consider myself a bluegrass girl.”

“Brunswick stew,” Jacqueline said. That at least sounded presentable.

“It’s a southern version of chili. Mama always served it when we had a barbecue. Mama has Grandma’s original recipe and I’ll need to change it a bit. Everyone uses pork or chicken nowadays, instead of possum or squirrel.”

One more word from this woman and Jacqueline was afraid she’d keel over in a dead faint.

“I hope you give them your recipe for deep-fried okra,” Paul said as if he’d never tasted anything so good in his life. “You wouldn’t believe what Tammie Lee does with okra. I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Once and only once had Jacqueline sampled the slimy green vegetable. It’d been in some kind of soup dish. Never having seen it before, she’d lifted it from the bowl and been repulsed by the thick slime that had dripped from her spoon. She’d nearly gagged just looking at it and now her son was telling her he enjoyed this disgusting vegetable.

“I have a recipe for pecan pie that’s a family favorite and I’d be happy to share that, too.”

“Actually, I think it’s because of Tammie Lee’s cooking that we got accepted by the country club.”