The Cherry Cola Book Club by Ashton Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

whatever they please?” Maura Beth continued, proceeding full speed ahead now. “And not only that, since you’re a woman who likes to take charge, why don’t you consider inviting Locke Linwood to accompany you to the first meeting? He’s already surprised you. Maybe you could surprise him.”
    Maura Beth saw she had struck a responsive chord when Miss Voncille actually seemed to be blushing. “Very well, then. You’ve convinced me. I’ll become an official Cherico Page Turner.” Then she suddenly turned thoughtful. “As for Mr. Linwood . . . I don’t want to rush into that one. I think he’s looking for a different version of me. I’ll have to sleep on it.” The next second she was glancing at her watch and rolling her eyes. “It feels like it ought to be later than it is, but then, I ran everybody off tonight, didn’t I? It was definitely not my most successful lecture, I can assure you.”
    Maura Beth reached over and patted her hand warmly. “Oh, I don’t know. First, I have to thank you for joining my little club. And then, I think you and I got to know each other a lot better after all this time. Locke Linwood hasn’t really gone anywhere, and I’m willing to bet the Crumpton sisters will come back into the fold with a little diplomacy on your part.”
    â€œGot a delicious recipe for crow?” Miss Voncille quipped, gathering up her notes and photos and tucking them into the folder she’d brought along.
    â€œCome on,” Maura Beth replied, chuckling as she dangled her impressive collection of keys before them. “We’ll sign you up and then close down together.”

    It was just past nine when Maura Beth walked through the door of her cozy one-bedroom apartment on Clover Street and collapsed on the rust-colored living room sofa her parents had shipped to her three Christmases ago from their hometown of Covington, Louisiana. It’ll go with your hair when you sit on it, her mother had written on the card that had accompanied it.
    Actually, it was a pretty close match. Auburn, whiskey, or rust—those were the adjectives that had been used most often by the admirers of Maura Beth’s hair. But she herself had thought, rather playfully at times, that her mother’s sentiments weren’t particularly grammatical. Which was she supposed to sit on—the sofa or her hair?
    Whatever the case, she sometimes enjoyed entertaining herself with the question for lack of anything better to do after coming home from work. Tonight, she was happily remembering the last thing Miss Voncille had said to her as they were walking under the portico of the library into the steamy July evening air. “Your Cherico Page Turners are no longer missing in action! Miss Voncille Nettles, reporting for duty!”
    They had both laughed, waved good-bye, and headed toward their cars down the street.
    Back on the sofa where her hair had blended nicely into the fabric of one of the big cushions behind her, Maura Beth suddenly realized that all those cups of fruit punch had coated her throat with sugar. She needed a nice glass of ice water, so she jumped up and headed toward the fridge and the big pitcher she always kept inside on the middle shelf.
    The phone rang on the way over, startling her, but she reached the crowded kitchenette counter soon enough. Whoever was on the other end of the line opened the conversation with an enthusiastic, “Guess what?”
    Maura Beth immediately played along, easily recognizing Periwinkle’s down-home voice. “And hello to you, too. Don’t tell me. You have another picture of a person in pants for me. Or is it another set of twin cowboys passing through from Dallas on the way to become country singers in Nashville? One for you, and one for me.”
    Periwinkle produced her usual hearty laugh. “Even better. Someone signed up for your book club tonight over here. She