“Jackson Armstrong. He’s in charge of the Armstrong Oil Company that’s drilling up north of Dell City. That’ll provide jobs for a lot of people in this area. Who knows? It could even raise the population enough that the sign at the city limits will be telling the truth.”
“He’s stopped by here several times, but we didn’t know he was actually moving to these parts,” Scarlett said.
Ada Lou gave me a look that was meant to make me cringe in horror. “I was going on and on about him, and you didn’t say a word.”
I grinned at her. “You didn’t ask.”
Ada Lou shook a finger at me. “You are a sneaky one. You will bear watching, for sure. Okay, now, moving on: What are y’all going to do if the blizzard materializes?”
Rosalie buttered a biscuit and added strawberry jam from one of the individual packets on the condiment tray. “We will hunker down and get through it. I just hope we don’t lose power.”
Ada Lou refilled all our coffee mugs and nodded. “I intend to knit more baby hats if the snow puts me in the house.”
“Baby hats?” I asked.
“I don’t give out all my secrets at once, either, little lady,” she said.
“She makes them for the little babies that are born in the hospital at El Paso,” Scarlett explained.
“Hundreds of precious little bundles have gone home with one of my hats on. Knitting helps me keep my sanity when I’m stuck at home or bored.”
“That’s a good thing you do. If we can’t open the Tumbleweed, I might get these two to play poker with me,” I answered.
“No!” Rosalie declared. She made the sign of the cross and then dropped her chin to pray before she gave me a dose of the old stink eye. “I will not play poker, and neither will you.”
“But I don’t know how to knit,” I protested and winked at Scarlett.
“Don’t tease her about gambling, drinking, or swearing,” Scarlett warned. “And once she has prayed, that’s it. She says that God has hung up, and she’s not calling Him right back because He has lots of other matters to take care of.”
Rosalie nodded in agreement and pushed back her chair. “If it snows so bad that we have no customers, we will give the whole place a thorough cleaning.”
Scarlett groaned and looked up at the ceiling. I got the feeling that she wasn’t dialing up the hotline to heaven. “Then I hope that the weatherman is wrong this time.”
I fought against the urge to take what money I had and run when I remembered the days that Paula had punished me for some infraction—sassing her was my number one problem—and made me clean her café. She always made me redo everything at least twice. Then she would get out her white cotton gloves and go over every inch of the place. If there was a hint of dirt on her fingertips, I would have to start all over again.
“If he’s right, can we at least sleep late?” I asked.
“Only if we lose power,” Rosalie answered. “In that case, we won’t have lights to see how to clean.”
“How often does that happen?”
Ada Lou polished off the last bite of food on the platter. “Four times since I’ve lived at the trailer park, and the weatherman was right every time. They’ve got all this fancy equipment now and can tell us when a hurricane is hitting down in Florida or wherever the hell—heck—those things make landfall. Or when a snowstorm or rain or a blizzard is on the way. If it is going to keep me inside, I always buy extra supplies and be sure I have stuff to make food that doesn’t require the stove or microwave.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Sandwich makings, packages of junk food, and cereal. I freeze an extra gallon of milk and whine because I can’t have coffee or hot chocolate until the utility guys come out and fix the lines,” Ada Lou said.
I focused on Rosalie. “Do we have all that ready?”
She added a packet of sugar to her coffee. “Of course we do,boss lady.”
“I might be a boss in a few months, but right now I’m just learning,” I smarted off.
Ada Lou pushed back her chair. “I’m on my way to El Paso to pick up all those things I forgot—like honey buns and potato chips. A woman cannot live on bread alone. Will y’all be able to get everything you might need from your supply guy?”
“We could use some sandwich meat,” Rosalie said. “Maybe three or four kinds. I’m planning on baking and freezing homemade cookies every day—just in case. I’ll save you back some of each kind.”
“Please make oatmeal with butterscotch chips, and snickerdoodles. They are my favorite,” Ada Lou said as she put her coat on and headed outside.
