“He’s really packing it away,” I say, patting his back. “I bet he’s up for a growth spurt.”
“Nothing like mother’s milk to make them grow like weeds,” Midge says warmly, still cooing away at my sweet baby boy, and my boob by proxy. “I nursed all three of my boys until they were two. Best decision I ever made.”
Two years? I briefly imagine myself nursing these boys as full-blown toddlers before remembering Lyla Nell still checks in for the occasional sip. If the twins make it to two, I’m going to need a reservation system and possibly a referee. Because Lyla Nell does not share dairy resources willingly, and she’s got the elbows of a professional hockey player.
Across the room, Carlotta’s voice carries over the crowd. “Now THIS Jell-O looks like it knows how to have a good time! Look at those curves! All that jiggle!This thing moves better than half the men I’ve dated!”
Half the women turn to stare, and I take a moment to scowl at the menace.
Percy hops closer to Midge’s banana pudding cups. “Midge here has eighteen consecutive wins, Lottie. Quite the streak. Almost suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”
I give a little nod his way before focusing onMidge. “I see you brought banana pudding even though it’s not technically allowed.”
Midge’s smile doesn’t falter, but something flickers in her eyes. “I thought the Daughters of Honey Hollow deserved to be treated to some of the best banana pudding on the planet. You know, to wipe out the memory of Vivienne going down surrounded by your murder pudding.And to cleanse their palates after Vivienne died face-down in well,yourcontribution. I guess we could call it murder pudding.” She chortles away at the thought.
I gasp. “I do not serve murder pudding!”
“Says you.” She shrugs. “Is that why you didn’t bring it today?” Midge asks with sugary sweetness. “Smart thinking.”
“I brought a casserole because this is a casserole or Jell-O competition.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended. “I, unlike some people, follow the rules.”
Corban bites down on me as if he objects to the thought, and I try not to flinch.
“Oh, Lottie.” Midge’s dimples deepen. “Rules are more like guidelines when it comes to honoring the dead, don’t you think?”
“Meow,” Percy comments. “Someone is showing her claws.And the pudding pot is beginning to simmer. I do adore a good culinary duel.”
Corbin chooses this moment to pop off my breast and let out a satisfied burp that echoes across the room.
Several women glance over and coo at the sight of him despite the brazen act of milk-drunk indecency.
I quickly adjust my dress and shift Corbin to my shoulder. “I’m so sorry about Vivienne,” I say, trying to sound gentle and sympathetic instead of like someone actively investigating Midge for murder. And boy, how I would love to pin a murder on this woman. Kidding. Sort of. “How did you know her?”
“Oh, Vivi and I went way back,” Midge says, her expression shifting to something that looks like genuine grief. “We’ve beenin the Daughters together for over twenty years. She recruited me, actually. Saw me at a church bake sale and insisted I join. Said I had natural hospitality instincts.” She laughs softly. “She could be demanding, but she recognized talent when she saw it. Did she invite you to the society?” Her eyes rake over me up and down because she darn well knows the answer.
“Were you close friends?” I choose to ignore yet another jab and my culinary skills.
“As close as anyone could be with Vivi.” Midge arranges one of her banana pudding cups as if the fate of the luncheon depends on it. “She wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type, but she was brilliant at organizing and getting things done. The Daughters wouldn’t be what they are today without her vision.”
“Have the two of you had any disagreements over the years?” I ask as if I care. As if I don’t already know that Midge has had a disagreement with just about everyone over the years, and a passive-aggressive one at that.
“Oh, nothing serious.” Midge waves it off. “You know how it is with strong personalities. We butted heads occasionally over event planning or budget allocation, but nothing that ever damaged our friendship.”
“Liar, liar, pearls on fire,” Percy caws while pecking at an invisible speck on the table.
Across the room, Carlotta’s voice rings out again. “I’m just saying, this tuna casserole tastes like depression and canned regret had a baby! Who committed this crime against seafood?”
A woman in a green poodle skirt bursts into tears.
“Carlotta!” Mom snaps.
“What? I’m helping! Isn’t there a People’s Choice award? The people deserve the truth!”
Suze appears beside Carlotta, holding her coconut-toenail-clipping Jell-O mold like a shield. “At least I put effort into my entry instead of just showing up to insult people.”
Carlotta makes a face at the jiggly moldbefore her. “Suzie Q, you put something into that Jell-O, but I wouldn’t call it effort,” she shoots back. “It looks like a science experiment that escaped from a lab—one that specializes in feet!”
Percy chuckles and caws. “I do appreciate that woman’s commitment to chaos.The luncheon has achieved a marvelous balance of hostility, mayonnaise, and emotional turbulence.”
