A Rip Roaring Good Time by Jeanne Glidewell Read Free Book Online

Pete's Pantry to assure there'd be enough cake for everyone. I could smell savory aromas wafting from the double oven as she spoke and saw large aluminum pans spread out across the kitchen counter.
    There was a large metal pan with what appeared to be a warped bottom rocking back and forth on the stove. It was casting out drops of water that were sizzling as they landed on the hot burner. I assumed she was hard-boiling the eggs to be deviled later on. As if reading my mind, Georgia stood up and turned off the fire beneath the pan.
    Sitting back down she noticed me studying the array of pots, pans, utensils, and other cooking paraphernalia scattered throughout the kitchen, including the stuff that covered half of the table where the two of us, and Peanut, were sitting. She smiled and said, "There's probably a lot more to catering a large party than you realize."
    I shook my head and told her I'd tried the catering business myself when I was in my thirties. When the president of the local Rotary Club nearly choked to death on a small clip-on earring I'd lost in the chicken casserole, I'd decided to give it up before I got embroiled in a negligent homicide lawsuit.
    "I was very happy to get the earring back after another Rotary member performed the Heimlich maneuver on the guy," I told Georgia. "The earring was one of my favorites. It was from the best pair of fake diamond earrings I owned. As you can imagine, I was upset while the president was choking, thinking I'd just thrown ten bucks down the toilet. And ten bucks was a lot of money back in those days. But thankfully, the earring came shooting out of the fellow like lava out of a volcano."
    Georgia laughed at my remark as if she thought I was joking. Nearly losing one of my favorite earrings, from a ten dollar pair at that, was not something I'd josh about, I wanted to tell her. Oh, and I should probably add that nearly killing a feller really wasn't a joking matter either.
    After we'd covered everything on the list, I patted Georgia's hand, told her it had been a pleasure to meet her, and that I'd see her later on in the evening at the surprise birthday party. I wiggled my way off the chair I was sitting on by tenderly removing Peanut's head and paws from where they were draped over my lap. He'd been perched there for half an hour while I'd stroked his head. It wasn't that I was an avid dog-lover. The independence and low maintenance of cats appealed more to Rip and me. It was just that Peanut seemed way too large for me to want to tick off by not letting him lay his head wherever he chose to lay it.
    Earlier I'd foolishly waved off Rip's offer to show me how to program the GPS to lead me back to the inn once it had reached it's original destination of the Piney residence. When I walked out the Piney's front door, I wasn't even sure which direction would return me to the Alexandria Inn. I very well might end up in Iowa , I thought to myself. I'd mindlessly followed the female voice's directions to get there instead of paying attention to the route she was taking me so I could retrace the steps without her guidance. The two-mile drive there had taken about five minutes. The drive back took considerably longer.
    Unfortunately, my untrustworthy sense of direction was in full swing that morning. It took forty-eight minutes, three convenience-store stops for conflicting directions, seventeen wrong turns, one traffic warning for impeding traffic, two questionable U-turns, and a partridge in a pear tree, for me to get back to the inn. Oh, and did I mention the too-many-to-count rude hand gestures by other drivers?
    Perhaps it was time to swallow my pride and have Rip sit me down and patiently explain how to work the damned silly gadget perched on the dashboard. It taunted me with its silence the entire trip back. It would have no doubt been snickering had it had the capability to do so.
    * * *
    "Lexie! Are you all right?" I asked frantically when I saw her face pale and her