“If”—Cordelia held up a finger—“you grow your mustache back before then.”
His lips twitched with amusement. “Consider it done. I’ll pick you up next Friday.”
As soon as he left, all the chicks faced Cordelia, looking like cats who had the mouse cornered. Cordelia picked a piece of invisible lint off her skirt, ignoring the fiendish stretch of their jack-in-the-box grins. She wasn’t anyone’s form of entertainment.
“Archer shaved off his mustache for you,” Daisy said, like he’d presented her with a diamond ring. “He’s never done that before.”
“Probably because deep down he knew he’d look ridiculous without it.”
Belinda Sue rapped her knuckles on the metal frame of her beach chair. “Don’t go acting like that’s not something special. That boy’s had a mustache since the seventh grade.”
“The madam and the pastor’s son.” Arline cackled and slapped her knee. “I couldn’t write the script on this if I tried.”
“Well, you can just cap your pen, because it’s not a thing.” Cordelia huffed. “We’re just having dinner, not getting hitched.”
“But it could lead to that.” Daisy’s voice had gone breathless as she fanned herself. “You and Archer would have the cutest babies.”
“They most certainly would,” Belinda Sue said. “With a whole pack of aunties just waiting to spoil them.”
Cordelia held her hands out. “Y’all are getting way ahead of yourselves. No one is having babies. I’m not even sure if I want babies.”
Babies were the epitome of messy, with their diapers and spit-up and floppy heads. The thought of trying to keep something alive with so many needs made Cordelia break out in a cold sweat. She could barely manage the three fully grown functional adults under her care.
Belinda Sue opened her mouth to make a point Cordelia intended to dismiss when her phone buzzed. Putting the conversation on hold, Belinda Sue answered the phone, her stern expression brightening as she informed the person on the other end of the line that she did have openings for the evening, and scheduled them into her tablet. Seconds later, Daisy’s and Arline’s phones went off as well. Word of Honey’s arrest had gone public.
And just like that, the Chickadee was back in business.
Chapter Seventeen
WITH THE CHICKS ENTERTAINING MEN AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY NOWthat Honey’s arrest had fully discredited Edna’s story, Cordelia found herself with a lot more time on her hands. She spent it in the library, hanging out with Martina, and telling off the occasional patron who tried to make a fuss about children’s literature containing satanic messaging. Since she wasn’t actually employed by the library, she got to use all the good curse words in her lexicon to tell them exactly what she thought about their preaching. Just because the town was down a pastor didn’t mean they were looking for any random person off the street to fill the role.
She’d set herself up at a computer near the back, doing a deep dive search of all the restaurants that served Dew Valley wine. They’d let their only solid lead go once they’d found out the pastor had bought the only bottle that had been individually sold, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have gotten another bottle from someone else. Someone who knew his preferences.
If only Arline hadn’t stolen that guest book from Val’s, then she could’ve called her for the list and saved herself the trouble. As it stood, she hoped Val would never cross her path again. She had her nose so high in the air she could drown in a rainstorm, and Cordelia had enough arrogant women who thought they were better than her right here in Sarsaparilla Falls.
The sound of two women giggling together in the Local Interest aisle caught her attention. She nearly ducked and hid when she realized it was Stella Reed-Smythe. Archer’s momma. She recognized the academic woman at her side as the one she’d seen her with in Bramble Park the day they went to Val’s Vino. The two of them stopped short when they caught sight of Cordelia openly staring.
“Oh. Hello, Cordelia.” Stella stepped forward and offered her hand, which was limp and cold, not unlike a dead fish. “I heard you were back in town.”
“For a few weeks now.” Cordelia ran the toe of her ballet flat across the threadbare carpet. Stella Reed-Smythe had always made her as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers. Like she could smell imperfections on people. “I moved back when my Great-Aunt Penelope passed on.”
Stella laid a hand over her heart. “Penelope was a good woman. One of a kind.”
“I’m sorry about your loss as well,” Cordelia said.
“It’s been hard, but I’m getting on okay.” The woman next to Stella shifted, and she turned to her. “This is my friend Gladys Murphey. She’s been a big help.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Cordelia said.
“I remember when you were just a bean sprout,” Gladys said. “You probably don’t remember me, but I used to work with your momma at the dentist’s office.”
Cordelia squinted at Gladys like she was trying to remember, but seeing as she didn’t recall her momma ever working at a dentist’s office, the odds of her having any memory of Gladys were slim. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“As expected. She stopped working there when you were about two or three.” Gladys might’ve said her momma stopped working there, but the implication that she’d been fired fordrinking or stealing or calling off too often for a hangover hung in the stilted air between them.
And Cordelia, falling back on her old pleasing habits whenever her momma’s behavior got called into question, pasted a sweet smile on her face. “Momma’s doing well now. Living in Dallas and running a consignment shop. Been in the AA for near twenty years.”
“That’s good to hear,” Gladys said, the tension in her shoulders visibly relaxing.
