“We ended up okay.” It touched Cordelia that Daisy considered her at all when everyone else in town had treated her like she’d steal the flowers off their grandmas’ graves.
“I hope we can do better by you now.” Daisy took both her hands and guided her toward the couch. The stiff, paisley-print fabric creased under their weight. “I’m sorry Mr. Jenkins wasn’t more forthcoming. Belinda Sue told me to give you some time, that you’d come around to all of us eventually, but I can’t stand letting things hang without clearing the air. I feel downright awful for assuming you knew what was what this afternoon.”
“It’s not your fault,” Cordelia said. The earnest expression on Daisy’s soft, doe-like face could’ve melted an ice block in a blizzard. Cordelia would’ve expected Daisy to be tough as nickel steak after nearly forty years in her line of work, but there was aninnocence to her that Cordelia couldn’t help but find endlessly endearing. “I grew up in this town and never once felt welcome in it until I met you.”
As soon as the words passed her lips, she tasted the honey-sweet truth of them. Daisy had greeted her with warmth and openness and hadn’t asked a thing of Cordelia before accepting her into her cotton-candy-pink corner of the world. Some people were born good, and some were made good, and then there were people like Daisy, who were just good for no reason.
“If that ain’t the kindest thing anyone has said to me in a long while.” Daisy beamed. “You just made my week, honey.”
Cordelia tilted her head as she studied Daisy, who looked as fresh as the flower she was named after. The eager sparkle in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks clued in Cordelia on just how badly Daisy wanted her approval. It wasn’t often someone looked up to Cordelia. She found the pedestal most disagreeable on account of her fear of heights. Not to mention, the idea of a woman thirty years her senior thinking of her as a mother figure was ludicrous. But the parts of her that had grown hard and unyielding in the cracked concrete where she’d been raised softened. Maybe being needed, no matter the capacity, wasn’t so bad.
“How did you end up at the Chickadee? If you don’t mind me asking,” Cordelia said.
“I was always the pleasing sort, and I liked attention.” Daisy settled against the couch and crossed her ankles. “My momma thought I’d grow up to deliver singing telegrams.”
“That’s sweet. Did she approve of your profession?”
“Oh, Lord, no.” Daisy chuckled. “The cheese would’ve fallen off her cracker, but she passed on a month before I started at the Chickadee. I was raised by a single momma too. Having no place else to go and no plans for my future, I asked Miss Penelope totake a chance on me, and it turned out I liked the work. It kept me on the straight and narrow.”
“Really?” Cordelia raised an eyebrow.
“Absolutely.” Daisy nodded vigorously. “Miss Penelope had no tolerance for bad-mouthing or substance abuse or petty fights. She hired good girls and kept us off the streets. Taught us about charity and community and gave us a purpose. When the tornado of ninety-three tore through town, Miss Penelope not only donated the money to rebuild the businesses lost to the storm, but she swung a hammer with the best of them and expected her girls to help out too. She donated to the public library when their funds got cut. She donated school supplies so the teachers wouldn’t have to take out of their own pockets to stock their classrooms. The entire town owed her a debt of gratitude.”
“I wish I’d had a chance to meet her.” A twinge of regret hit Cordelia on two fronts, for never getting the chance to meet the only extended family she’d ever heard of, and for being so quick to judge the Chickadee without understanding what kind of place it had in town.
“She liked you. Kept an eye on you from a distance. Said you were like Yellowstone. All hard and unassuming on the outside, but a spitfire under the surface.”
“I’m not sure about spitfire.” Cordelia found her thrills in color-coded binders and a well-organized spreadsheet. She liked her food beige and avoided anything that sparkled.
“You’ve got more of Miss Penelope in you than you realize.” Daisy gave her a knowing smile. “She left the Chickadee in your care for a reason.”
“We’ll see,” Cordelia said. Though Cordelia had no intention of being a madam, it wouldn’t hurt to finish out the week with an open mind. What a funny twist of fate that she had landed right back in the town she’d spent near her whole life trying to outrun.
Her grocery list and trip to the library forgotten, Cordelia put on some tea and sat out front on the porch rocker with Daisy, listening to the wild stories from her younger days. By the time Daisy had made it to her thirties, Cordelia’s ears had turned the shade of a cherry bomb pop, but she couldn’t think of the last time she’d been so entertained. Turned out, wild girls grew up to be cheeky, delightful women.
As the sun set over the flat expanse of land that surrounded them, Daisy stood and stretched her limbs, the crack and pop of her bones the only thing that betrayed her age. “I appreciate the talk and tea, but the pastor should be along any minute now, so it’s probably best if I get back to my room.”
They said their goodbyes, and Cordelia went back inside and turned off the part of her mind prone to overanalyzing.
Great-Aunt Penelope had left a stack of Salisbury steak TV dinners in the freezer, and since it was too late to go into town, Cordelia decided to make do. She set up her dinner in the living room and watched the evening news, giving up on the rubbery meat after two bites. It went cold before she finally threw the rest in the trash. Her upbringing instilled a real fear of waste in her, but even she had her limits.
She’d just put away the gold-trimmed TV tray decorated with watercolor bluebirds when there was once again a light tapping on her door that she’d already come to associate with Daisy. But Daisy was supposed to be with Pastor Reed-Smythe. According to the sign out front, she should’ve been occupying him for longer than an hour.
But when Cordelia answered the door, there stood Daisy, eyes wide as she twisted her fingers so tight her knuckles glowed white under the silvery moon. All the muscles in Cordelia’s body hugged her bones, but she wouldn’t allow herself to panic. Not yet, anyway.
“Please don’t tell me you need me to drag out the shotgun on my first day here.” Cordelia had meant to keep her tone light, but her thin, papery voice betrayed her concern. While she didn’t put much stock in the idea of God, she wasn’t looking to test that theory by pulling a gun on one of his own.
“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Daisy’s lips were free from their ruby-red coloring, and for the first time, Cordelia could see just how small and lined she was beneath her thick layer of makeup. “This is beyond the usual sort of help.”
Cordelia motioned for her to come inside, then moved toward the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. Near anything could be fixed with a strong-enough cup of tea. “What’s going on? You look as full of pains as an old window.”
Unable to hold it together any longer, Daisy burst into tears. “I think I killed the pastor.”
Chapter Six
CORDELIA ROUSED THE OTHER LADIES FIRST THING. THIS WAS NOT THEtype of situation she was up for handling alone, and considering the median age of the Chickadee patrons, this couldn’t have been the first time a man’s heart gave out in one of these rooms.
Thankfully, Arline wasn’t occupying any business that evening, and Belinda Sue sent hers away with a discount for the next night. On his way out, she took off his cowboy hat and plunked it on her head, which seemed to satisfy him enough. That left just the four of them.
