Diana was the only one left in the shop, and she smirked at the cousins. “I don’t like any of you, but I do owe you a thank-you for getting rid of those two. I’ll leave the cake right here. That gives me more points for today. See to it that he gets this cake when he comes back.”
“Did you not hear a thing Jorja said?” Taryn asked. “You are all three making fools of yourselves.”
Diana’s smile got even bigger. “Maybe so, but I’m going to have a wedding, and Elaine and Mallory are going to be standing on the sidelines.”
“Didn’t you all used to be good friends?” Taryn asked.
“We were—and we might be again, someday.” Diana flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “But right now, all is fair in love and war. We started out with a dozen women in the contest, and we all put five hundred dollars in the pot. Whoever gets an engagement ring wins all six thousand dollars. I’ll use the money to help buy my wedding dress.”
Jorja slapped the glass-topped counter, rattling the cute little container with pens in it. “I hope that he refuses all of you, but you can bring all the food you want. We were just having a slice of your pumpkin bread when you got here.”
Diana stared at the cake, then finally turned around and opened the door. “After that smart-aleck remark, you won’t be invited to the wedding.”
“Honey, none of us want to come to your wedding, anyway. We might go to Clinton’s if he ever gets married, but I’d bet dollars to cow chips that it won’t be to any one of you three,” Anna Rose shot back, raising her voice so Diana could hear every word before the door closed.
For several seconds, the silence was deafening; then Jorja glanced over at Taryn and giggled. “You are right. Confidence is mostly bluff with a little ego and fear thrown into the mix.”
“Yep,” Anna Rose agreed with a nod. “I’m proud of you for the way you stood up to them today. They’ve been full of themselves since they were just little girls, and what they’ve got is mostly ego. Living in a small town where they are all big shots makes them that way. Drop them in a place like Dallas or Houston, and they would die.”
“You’re right, but I was talking about myself. I felt like I had some confidence right then,” Jorja said.
Taryn patted her on the back. “You did, and I’m proud of you, too.”
“‘You done good,’ as Nana Irene says when we do something right.” Anna Rose picked up the cake and started for the back room. “This is still warm, and I do love chocolate cake.”
“Maybe we should call Clinton since it was meant for him.” Jorja whipped out her phone and went to the refrigerator-door notepad, where phone numbers had been scribbled in her grandmother’s handwriting. She found Clinton’s number after hers, Anna Rose’s, and Taryn’s; she added it to her contact list. Then she called him.
“Hello, is everything all right down there?” Clinton asked.
“Just peachy,” Jorja answered. “No, that’s not right. Everything is chocolaty, not peachy. We’ve got a chocolate cake from Diana. Do you want us to wait to cut it or just dive in, or would you like for me to bring it up to your apartment?”
“Dive right in,” Clinton chuckled. “I’ve got dozens and dozens of cookies up here that I’ve been sending home with the vets who come in for help. My last appointment is at three, and it might last an hour. I’ll be down there after that, but I left the company credit card in thecash register so you can pay the fresh-flower deliveryman when he gets there. See you later.”
She didn’t even have time to tell him thank you before the call ended.
“Well?” Anna Rose asked. “Do we cut the cake, or do we wait?”
“He says that we can cut it,” Jorja said. “Evidently, those women really have been bombarding him with food. He said that he’s got dozens of cookies up in his apartment. Milk or coffee?”
“Both,” Anna Rose answered. “And while we eat, I’ll show you the pictures of Goldie that I took this morning. I wonder who she belongs to.”
Jorja brought a stack of disposable plates and napkins to the worktable. “We’ll have to ask Nana Irene on Saturday, or maybe Clinton knows. If we don’t start eating better, we’ll all be diabetics by the time we leave here.”
She set the milk on the table, poured a cup of coffee for Anna Rose, and looked over at Taryn with a raised eyebrow.
“Milk, please. But what a way to go! I’m glad there’s a contest going on, if it means that we get food every day,” Taryn declared.
A miracle had just happened—at least, in Jorja’s way of thinking. They had stood together on something more important than a vote about food, and they weren’t arguing now.
“Hey, y’all hungry for something besides that chocolate cake Anna Rose is carrying?” Clinton asked.
“What have you got there?” Taryn sniffed the air. “Do I smell lasagna?”
“You sure do,” Clinton answered.
Taryn motioned him toward the trailer. “Bring it on in. I’ll make a salad and some garlic bread to go with it. How much food have you got up there, anyway?”
“Enough to feed a whole family reunion,” he answered with a smile. “My little freezer is full. The refrigerator is full, and several bins are full of cookies. Unless y’all want something special, I can probably provide supper for the next six weeks.”
