If Mashed Potatoes Could Dance (3 page)

Gram extended her hand. “I’m Missouri Anna Winston, owner of this place. Call me Miz. This is my granddaughter, Isabelle, or Betts.” She pointed to the G
RAM’S
C
OUNTRY
C
OOKING
S
CHOOL
sign. “I believe you are most definitely supposed to be here for one night. You’re the food tour group, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shook Gram’s hand. “Leroy Norton at your service. Well, I’m at their service really.” He nodded toward the bus. “Thanks for putting us up for the night. I’m a little baffled at where everyone’s going to sleep, though. I pictured a…well, something else.”

“We’ll have cots. Soon,” I said.

“Cots?” Leroy didn’t hide his displeasure. “I’m not sure…”

“Leroy—Robert’s leg is cramping. Can I get him off the
bus?” A woman with a big, red beehive hairdo was leaning out of the bus’s open door.

“’Scuse me,” Leroy said as he turned and hurried back to the bus.

“I don’t think cots are what he had in mind,” I said.

“Uh–oh,” Gram said as she glanced toward the bus door and put her hands on her hips.

“What?” I said as I followed her line of vision.

Leroy was off the bus again, but he was reaching into the open door. Slowly, more slowly than I could have thought possible, he stepped backward as he helped someone disembark.

The man exiting the bus was very old. His skinny figure was hunched over, and he walked with a cane in one hand while holding Leroy’s with the other hand.

“Betts, is this an older persons’ tour?” Gram asked quietly.

“No one mentioned their ages,” I said just as quietly.

Sally laughed. “I don’t have to try to haunt these people. They could join me at any minute.”

Neither Gram nor I laughed with her.

Initially, the bad news was the food tour group was made
up of retirees. The good news turned out to be that Robert Hart was the oldest of the group. The rest of the retirees and their spouses or
dates
(Leroy’s word) were much more agile than Mr. Hart. Some of the group were in their sixties, some in their fifties, and some were even younger.
Retired
in this case meant that these people were all wealthy enough to never have to work again and had plenty of time to travel and participate in things like food tours.

Besides the bus driver Leroy, six other people exited the bus, each of them subject to Sally’s vocalized observations; observations Gram and I could hear, but fortunately no one else could.

Robert Hart was partnered with Eloise Dinchel, who must have been younger of the two. We thought this only because she was able to walk with perfect posture and no need of a
cane. Her red hair was done in a beehive, and she wore bright blue eye shadow. Sally was impressed by both and wondered why Gram and I didn’t do our hair and makeup the same way.

Ash and Cece Montgomery were Sally’s favorite couple, though. Ash was a pleasant enough man but not blessed with attractive features. He looked close to sixty, and as awful as I felt about thinking it, I wondered why someone who supposedly had so much money didn’t do something to fix his teeth. Or buy new glasses that weren’t so scratched and bent. Or buy a shirt that wasn’t covered with old stains. I didn’t like to think I was that shallow, but those were the things I most noticed.

Ash was a sharp contrast to his wife, Cece. Cece couldn’t have been much more than twenty-five, and she looked a lot like Sally, but more modern, better put together, and not dead.

Cece Montgomery had evidently been assembled following the model of a Barbie doll. Her figure was ideal; her clothes were smooth, her shirt dotted with little bits of glitter here and there (just like on one of my old dolls); her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and didn’t show one flyaway. I self-consciously smoothed my own red, kind–of–wavy, not-free–of–flyaways version when I saw hers.

Sally laughed at the two of them. “Well, I suppose that’s true love…of money. We had those kind of women in my day. I believe we called them gold diggers.”

Cece wasn’t as pleasant and friendly as her husband either. She was as unhappy as someone could be about sleeping on a cot in a cooking school. She also adamantly noted that she didn’t care to learn how to cook, she just wanted to eat. Her husband was the one interested in cooking, but she most definitely was not!

Luckily, there were enough people around that neither Gram
nor I had much time to give her complaints due attention. We’d deal with it later. We were sure we’d have no choice.

While Ash and Cece were Sally’s favorite couple, Vivienne and Charlene were the two who most interested her. There wasn’t an appropriate moment to explain how the world had changed when it came to accepting lesbian and homosexual couples, but Sally figured out the women’s relationship quickly.

“Ooh, we had women like them, too, although they didn’t really go out in public together. They lived in secret. I wish I could remember some of their names. I always felt sorry for them. They always seemed…reticent. These two don’t seem reticent at all.”

In fact, Vivienne and Charlene were in great moods, more than happy with the idea of sleeping in the cooking school and very excited about the free cooking class. They were also the youngest of the group. I didn’t think either of them was over fifty.

They were both pretty women, though not stunning like Cece. Vivienne was African-American and Charlene was Caucasian, which was something else that caught Sally’s attention, but she didn’t say much more about it than, “Interesting.”

The last couple was the reverse of Ash and Cece in the age category. Georgina Carlisle was at least sixty, but Greg Carlisle was closer to forty. Greg was male-model handsome, his sharp and sculpted features making me think of right angles and underwear advertisements. He wore black pants and a silky red shirt that clung here and there to well-formed muscles. He wasn’t my type at all, but he was the kind of guy that everyone likes to look at, especially Sally.

“Purrrr,” she said. “I’d let him leave cracker crumbs in my bed, except that he should be ashamed of himself. Clearly his love of money is what guides his—”

I cleared my throat. I wasn’t exactly sure what part of him she was going to say was guided by money, but I was having a difficult time remembering that no one else could hear her.

“Well, it does,” she said. “Look at that old bag.”

I was doubly glad that no one else could hear her.

Georgina was not what I would have categorized as either an old bag or your typical “cougar.” She wasn’t slick; she didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but boldly showed off her wrinkles and age spots. She had long, lusciously gray hair that fell just below her shoulders. She was continually tucking it behind one ear or the other. She didn’t try to hide or cover up her age at all. Something about her confidence made me like her immediately.

Introductions were handled, and Gram asked if everyone would like to come in for refreshments. We had lemonade, iced tea, and some of Gram’s strawberry cake with cream cheese frosting. I thought we’d reel in even Cece when she tasted the cake.

As everyone gathered, a newer-model pickup pulled into the parking lot. Stacked high in the back and secured with bungee cords were a whole bunch of cots.

My brother Teddy had come through. He parked the truck next to the bus, got out, and waved in our direction.

“Who’s that?” Cece unthreaded her arm from her husband’s and stepped next to me.

“Oh, that’s Teddy, my brother,” I said as I eyed Ash. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“He’s very handsome. Please make sure you introduce him to me at some point,” Cece said.

I was speechless, so I just nodded dumbly.

Sally laughed again. “She’s going to make this night very interesting. I will tell you this, though, that young man looks
good enough to eat. Too bad he can’t see me—I’d figure out something creative. That’s your brother, huh? I don’t remember him but I’m sure I’ve seen him before.”

I nodded again, but this time my head moved more in a perplexed circle than up and down.

“Maybe, just maybe since he’s related to you and Miz we can work on something,” Sally said.

“This way,” I said as I made a welcoming hand swoop toward the entrance of the school. Cece reluctantly walked inside and Sally followed behind swinging the ax purposefully close to the live woman’s body.

Just as our last guest and the ghost crossed the front threshold, Teddy hurried to me.

“You’re really having a sleepover at the school?” he said.

“It looks that way.”

“It sounded fun at first, but then I saw the group. Now it seems kind of weird.”

“I know, but Jake committed us and they’re here, and there’s no place else to stay. I think most of them like the idea of a cooking class.”

“I might have a better idea,” Teddy said.

It was rude of me to hesitate to respond. Over the years, Teddy had hatched some pretty juvenile and sometimes dangerous ideas. Things had been known to explode because of an idea my brother had come up with. But lately, he’d shown some signs of maturity. I should be a better big sister and not allow my immediate reaction be doubt.

“Okay,” I said. I didn’t think he’d caught the pause.

“You know the old Anderson farm?”

“Sure.”

The Anderson family had lived on a small farm right outside the town for, as far as I knew, forever. Generations had
grown up, grown old, and died in the big old house with the noisy porch swings. Broken Rope’s history was full of stories of strange deaths; the Anderson farm had contributed heartily to our reputation. If I remembered correctly, someone had leapt off the tall roof of the house, and someone had hung themselves in the barn. The last Anderson, James, had recently died of old age. As normal and boring as it was, he’d been ninety-seven and passed in his sleep.

“Someone bought the house and whatever land hadn’t been sold off. The house is being renovated into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Really? Are there enough rooms for everyone?”

“Well, not exactly. The house part, where guests will eventually sleep, isn’t close to ready, but the barn is.”

“I think sleeping in a barn is worse than sleeping on cots in a cooking school, Teddy.”

Teddy smiled. “Well, big sister who seems to know everything, that’s where I’ve got you.” I crossed my arms and smiled patiently. “The barn is now a dormitory. There aren’t separate rooms or anything, but there are beds and four bathrooms. There’s also a small kitchen area…of course, you and Gram couldn’t hold a cooking class there or anything…”

“Do you think the owners are ready for guests?”

“The kitchen isn’t stocked, but the building inspectors okayed the barn space, that much I know.”

“How can I get a hold of the owners?”

“The owner’s name is Suzi Warton. Here, let me give you her number. I’ve been working on some of her construction jobs. You’ll like her.”

Just as I was typing Suzi’s name and number into my phone, Cece pushed forcefully through the door.

“I am
not
sleeping…” she began. “Oh, hello, you’re still
here. Good. I’m Cece Montgomery,” she continued, her tone switching from adamant to overly sweet when she eyed Teddy.

“How do you do, Ms. Montgomery. Teddy Winston.” Teddy shook her hand.

I often wondered how my brother did what he did. It was more than just his looks. He had a certain innate charm that was difficult to define. It wasn’t an act, ever. In fact, I didn’t think Teddy knew how to be anything but himself, which probably made him more attractive. Even when he forewarned the women he met and told them he wasn’t interested in a relationship, his honesty made him even more appealing.

“Teddy, I like that name. You remind me of a teddy bear actually—cuddly.”

It was difficult not to roll my eyes.

“Thank you.” He took a giant step back. Again, this action, which would have seemed rude from most men, only made Cece smile bigger. “Let me know about the cots, sis. I’ll wait to hear from you, but I’m available to set them up.” Teddy smiled and then hurried back to his truck.

“He’s adorable,” Cece said as she watched him. As she turned back to me, her face soured again. “I’m not sleeping on a cot in there. I was going to ask if you knew of a place where I could rent a car so I could get out of here, but now I think I’d like to stick around.” She looked toward Teddy’s departing truck. “If there’s no other place available, I’ll sleep on the bus.”

“I understand,” I said. I did. Cece might not have been someone I would ever want to hang out with, but I could see why she’d rather sleep on the bus than on a cot in the school. “Rental cars are usually difficult to get during our busy season unless you go to Springfield or even St. Louis. Broken Rope’s just so small. I might have another idea, though. Give me a little time and I’ll let you know.”

She looked at me, probably surprised I didn’t accuse her of being spoiled and annoying. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“You might enjoy the cooking class,” I said as I pulled the building door open again.

Cece laughed. “I hate cooking. I’m only here because my husband loves this kind of stuff. He’s a big fan of Broken Rope. He loves all the Old West stories, the gun battles and…whatever.” She sighed. “He’s convinced the town’s haunted and comes here every year hoping to see a ghost.”