suggested.
âSheâd have to be willing for it,â Floy said. âCanât lay hands on a woman that ainât willing for help. I donât know what weâll do about her being on the Easter egg committee.â
âIâll go get your bras.â Alma Grace slipped out of the room.
There was no way that Carlene would be willing to show up for a night of prayer. Too bad. They could have a potluck and sheâd talk her mamaâs cook into making her famous pecan sandy cookies for the refreshment table.
She met Patrice coming out of the stockroom.
Patrice stopped in the hallway and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. âI wish we would have done this Friday. Is Floy talkinâ about Carlene?â
Alma Grace nodded. âOh, yeah, but I told her that I was praying about it and God would surely give them the good sense to get back together. And I am praying, Patrice, whether you like it or not.â
âIâm already sick to death of hearing about it and youâd better not pray in my presence, girl. Not if you value your life. Blood is supposed to be thicker than water, you know.â Patrice headed into the stockroom.
Alma Grace took three bras from the rack and carried them back to the dressing room. Floy chose the plainest one and shooed Alma Grace outside. âI donât need an audience to put on my undergarments. If you want to be the head of the Easter committee, Alma Grace, youâd best fix this mess.â
***
Carlene sunk down into an overstuffed vintage chair beside the dressing room and threw a hand over her eyes when the choir ladies had gathered up their new bras and the remains of their brown-bag lunches and took off toward the church with Alma Grace in tow. She was glad that her cousin was the head honcho when it came to the Easter program. Maybe sheâd go get a dose of the Holy Spirit with her singing and come back with a smile on her face. Sheâd been walking around all morning like sheâd just been diagnosed with some dread disease and only had two hours to live.
A marriage had died that morning but there wouldnât be a funeral. The more she thought about it, the more Carlene didnât want a damn thing that Lenny had. She wanted her business and half of the equity in the house, since sheâd made half the payments the past five years. The rest he could keep because sheâd never know if one of his women had touched it. Well, all of it except for her Granny Fanninâs crystal candleholders. For those sheâd fight him to the death.
Patrice fell into the chair beside her and covered her eyes with both hands.
âDid you have a rough weekend, too?â Carlene asked.
âHad a wonderful weekend at the beginning. Spent it with Yancy in my house, drinking and having sex, watching a movie and having sex while we watched it, eating supper naked, and then we broke up and I ate a quart of rocky road ice cream. Must be the weekend for breaking up. Iâm sorry, honey.â She got up quickly and crossed the room, dropped down in front of Carlene, wrapped her arms around her, and hugged her tightly. âIâm a sorry excuse for a cousin. I was so damn mad at Lenny that I forgot to console you.â
Carlene leaned on Patriceâs shoulder. âRocky road with whipped cream and nuts?â
âAinât no other way to eat it. Now Iâm bloated all out to hell, hungover, and Iâve got a wicked headache even after Josieâs hotterân hell cure,â Patrice said.
Carlene managed a weak smile. âDonât tell her or sheâll make you drink another one.â
Josie slid into the third chair. âIâm taking my lunch break. I wasnât about to poke my head out the door until all those church women left. I bet all they wanted to talk about was Lenny. Am I right? Beulah called my cell phone twice but I didnât answer it.â
Carlene nodded. âLooks like I opened a
Learning to Kill: Stories