Page 48 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
“Miss May or Joanie Perkins. People around town call me and a couple of my friends the Easter Brigade since we wear pastels. Since April has her month namesake, we decided to move me to May.”
The forethought of the group astounded her. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince them all to go along with her new idea. “I’m sure you’ll make a lovely Miss May, Joanie.”
“I was thinking I could frolic around a May pole. Maybe some colorful ribbons could coverme up.”
“Won’t cover much,” an older woman shouted, a voice Lucy recognized as Ester Banks, her mother’s cousin.
Ester made her mother look like a Puritan. Lucy was doomed.
“How does your boyfriend feel about this, Joanie?” Ester shouted. “Let’s hope you don’t give Arthur Hale a heart attack when the calendar comes out. Would be a shame to have him go that way after all he’s done for our town.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped. “Mr. Hale?” she asked blankly.
Joanie gave her a saucy wink. “He’s my boyfriend, dear. I know he thinks the world of you.”
Lucy flushed from the compliment as much as the surprise. Arthur Hale had a lady friend? How had her mother not mentioned this? He was nearly eighty. They both were. Not that age should matter. But Arthur had loved Harriet like crazy… Lucy reminded herself life moved on. She was happy for Arthur. Joanie seemed like a nice lady—pole and ribbons and all.
“Thank you, Joanie,” she said. “Next.”
Joanie hustled off to the makeshift bar and poured one of her mother’s famous cosmos. Lucy was going to need a few after the introductions wrapped up.
“Mr. June,” the next man said as he entered, grabbing her full attention.
She might have lived overseas, but even she knew about the famous super-chef, Terrance Waters.
“I was thinking a meat cleaver,” he said, his face deadpan.
“I’d be happy to hold it for you, Chef T,” Ester barked out from the other room.
Lucy blinked as the women all dissolved into giggles,but she had to admit he was drool-worthy in a white T-shirt and faded jeans.
“Are you sure they make a meat cleaver big enough, Chef?” her mother asked from the doorway.
The mega-watt glare Lucy sent in her direction didn’t even dim her mischievous smile. Landing Chef T for the calendar was a big coup. Interestingly, her mother hadn’t told her. Then she realized why. This calendar was going to sell buckets if Chef T was baring all, covered only by a meat cleaver. Which meant people outside of Dare Valley would hear about this project and Lucy’s involvement in it. Her glare deepened. Not that it had any effect on Ellen O’Brien, who gave her a saucy, checkmate wink.
“Good to meet you, Lucy,” Chef T said, reaching out to shake her hand. “Jane says you’re the tops, and that’s important in my book. Look forward to working with you.”
They shook hands, and he stepped aside as an even taller man walked in at her mother’s signal—one who was actually more masculine than Chef T, to Lucy’s mind. He had a devil-may-care smile, guaranteeing the kind of fun that could get a person in trouble.
“Mr. July,” the man drawled.
This had to be the famous poker player and Jane’s former boss. “Rhett Butler Blaylock, I presume.”
He raised a hand to his forehead like he was tipping his hat to her. As an old-school gesture, it was charming. “We haven’t met, Lucy, but everyone I care about cares about you. As far as I’m concerned that makes us friends.”
His sincerity made her smile, even though she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. Good Lord, he was as tall as a sycamore.
“My wife is expecting,” Rhett informed her, “so being a daddy and all, I’d like to keep my photo a bit…I can’t believe I am saying this…in good taste.”
A chorus of boos sounded from the women in the kitchen and those gathered around the bar. Someone emitted a hiccup as well, clearly intoxicated by her mother’s strong cosmos.
Rhett turned to face the women standing in the family room, putting his hands out like he was reining in a mob. “Ladies, please. Try and be understanding. God knows, I’ve done plenty of things in bad taste, but my wild days are behind me. When Ellen asked me to participate, I couldn’t rightly say no, what with it being for such a good cause and all. My great-uncle Jackson Lee died of lung cancer when I was a sprout. He was the first person to teach me poker, and I miss that old man like crazy.” Rhett turned back to Lucy. “But my wife…she’s a bit modest, if you understand me. Plus, I have a teenage stepson and one on the way. I need to be a role model.”
“That’s very admirable,” she said, liking him already. “I’m sure we can come up with something that’ll please you both.”
The next woman emerged—the one Lucy feared more than anyone. Ester Banks might be eighty, but she was no one’s version of a good grandma. The older woman and her mother had been friends since meeting in a stained glass class when Lucy was a girl. She had a blue streak running through her silver hair, a low-neck top showcasing her double D’s, and a fake candy cigarette in her mouth. Ester also had a potty mouth that could beat out Betty White.
“Hello, Lucy,” she said in a throaty voice, pretending to smoke her candy cigarette. “I’d prefer to include my current boyfriend—he’s at the retirement home—but your mama’s being a real bitch about doubles. How do you feel about it?”
