Sure enough, as we got closer to the hostess station, there it was—a menagerie of Bambis and Thumpers sniffing and eating apples.
I knew there was a reason that I never came to this place.
“I know the decor is a bit over-the-top,” Malene whispered.
“Says the woman wearing the red sparkly dress,” I murmured.
She gave me a death stare. “But they do have the best apple fritters in town.”
“I like big fritters, and I cannot lie.”
We followed the hostess into a sparse dining room. “Good,” Malene whispered over her shoulder, “we’ve beaten the old folks. No diapers stinking up the place.”
“Says the old lady.”
As we strode through the dining room, I heard someone calling my name. I glanced over to see my neighbor, Willard Gandy, approaching.
“Clem, Malene. How’re y’all today?”
Malene turned to give Willard a once-over. “Willard,” she said sourly, “we’re doing fine. Just having an early dinner.”
Willard peered at Malene closely. “Malene Fredericks. What’s gotten into you? You changed your hair. And where’s your housecoat and slippers?”
Her eyes narrowed. “For your information, Clementine here has found out that I’m her grandmother. Her one and only living grandparent. Seeing as how the cat is out of the bag, I didn’t see any reason to keep wearing those foolish old clothes. I can finally be myself.”
His eyes widened. “You’ve been wearing the other so long that I forgot you had this in you,” he murmured.
“You never did have a good memory.”
Wanting to stop World War III from happening inside the buffet, I took a slight step toward Willard and noticed that he’d left a woman alone at his table. She was middle aged with strawberry-blonde hair swept back in a ponytail and wore rich-looking clothing in demure fall colors.
“Willard, you’ve left your company.”
“Oh,” he said.
Malene looked past him to the table. Her expression soured. “That isn’t company. That’s Bailey Darsey. Her daughter’s a ho.”
“Malene,” Willard warned. “I will not have you speaking that way about Bailey’s daughter…even if it is true.”
My grandmother’s (boy, thinking that word was going to take some getting used to) face twisted in triumph. “Like I always say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Are you and Bailey going necking after you eat a plate of apple fritters?”
“Malene,” Willard said, shaking a finger at her, “I’ll have you staying out of my business.”
“Your business doesn’t concern me anyway,” she said, sounding satisfied. “I couldn’t care less what you do.”
“It’s ‘could care less,’” he corrected. “That’s what you’re trying to say. And you’d better keep your voice down because Bailey’s daughter is with us.”
“Oh, Willard, you’ve sank too low this time.” Malene took a menacing step forward. “It’s one thing to go at it with the mother. But having both of them at once is a new low. Even for you.”
Willard’s face was so red I was pretty certain that it was about to pop off his head and blast into orbit.
I pushed my way between the two of them. “Would y’all quit it? I know you’re mortal enemies and everything, but you need to can it. People are starting to stare.”
Willard’s crimson face broke into a smile. “There you are, Crystal. We were just talking about you.”
Crystal Darsey (I guess her name was) sidled up to Willard. She was, how shall I say, the exact opposite of her mother.
Crystal wore a bright pink tube top that matched her hot pink lipstick. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high side ponytail that reminded me of something a teenager would wear, not a grown woman. Her black spandex pants looked painted on, and her high-heeled clogs made her nearly as tall as Willard.
