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“I’ll give credit where it’s due. Probably wasn’t a terrible idea to separate Gertie and Ida Belle.” Ally giggled. “Aunt Celia has gone to a lot of trouble to put aside differences in hopes that everyone has a good time.”
“Are you sure that’s her only objective?” I didn’t want to speak negatively of Ally’s family, but it was unusual to see the Sinful Ladies Society enjoying social events with the GWs.
“Let’s hope so.” Ally laughed. “I have to admit, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find place cards for assigned seating.”
“Maybe this is a turning point.” I wanted to be optimistic, but also guessed that an enduring friendship between Ida Belle and Celia probably wasn’t on the horizon.
“It’s something,” Carter said under his breath as he walked past us.
“What’s wrong with him?” Ally asked. “I thought Sheriff Lee might be here, but didn’t expect to see Carter. Playing referee isn’t his idea of a good time.”
“Carter has a nose for good food.” I sighed. “Which is why it’s so shocking that he spends time with me.”
“Hey, he could be after a future wife. He’s smart enough to know you’d have access to some of Gertie’s and Ida Belle’s family recipe books.”
“Is that a thing?”
Ally shrugged. “It was in the fifties and sixties.”
“Hmm. And here I thought Gertie and Ida Belle probably set up housekeeping sometime during the roaring twenties.”
“I heard that,” Ida Belle said, waltzing by us so gracefully that it looked practiced.
Gertie trailed behind her. Once Ida Belle placed her food and beverage on the table closest to the desserts, Gertie paused. She was probably considering the pros and cons of breaking the agreed upon rules.
“Don’t even think about it.” Beatrice Paulson, a mole in the GWs, gave Gertie a stern warning. “We’re not eating with our friends today. Get to know someone new to you.”
“I’m a Sinful lifer. No one is new-to-me except Fortune and she’s already a close friend so she doesn’t count.” Gertie gave Beatrice a cool glare, playing up the opposite sides bit for all who watched. “Where would you like for me to sit?”
“Table next to the coolers is under the shade. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
Almost as if it were planned, Gertie’s table was full of GWs within a few minutes. Gertie rose to return to the main entrée table. In passing, she mumbled, “I’d object, but something tells me that’s exactly what Celia wants.”
“Recruit. Recruit. Recruit,” Ida Belle said, helping herself to a bottled tea.
“May I have your attention, please?” Celia clapped her hands. “You-hoo! Ladies! Gentlemen! Attention!”
“The you-hoo is a little much,” Ida Belle said, raising her voice.
Celia ignored her. “Thank you for being here today. I invited you, my friends and...and....”
Ida Belle and Gertie dropped their chins, lifted them, most likely unaware that they were practically coaxing Celia’s next words.
Ally whispered, “Don’t do it.”
“...and yes, in the spirt of generosity, I invited our enemies. Ida Belle and Gertie, in spite of the classless, immature things that you’ve done to the GWs in the past, we’re here today to offer an olive branch, a twig of forgiveness, fruits of generosity and kindness, a log...”
“Where?” Ida Belle stood and looked around. “Please, show me. I’ll put it to good use and put us all out of our misery.”
Celia frowned. “I’m not done yet, Ida Belle.”
“Say grace and let’s eat,” Gertie said.
“Well, I suppose I could wait until after lunch.”
I sucked in a breath and searched the crowd for Carter. As soon as our eyes met, he mouthed, “What’d I tell you?”
“Carter was right,” I whispered.
“Where Aunt Celia and Ida Belle are concerned? Probably,” Ally said. “I’m glad he’s here. Without him, it might turn into a real fiasco.”
“With him, it could still be a fiasco,” I said.
Celia quickly said grace. Then, she returned to her seat, directly behind Ida Belle. I saw it as a strategic move, a way for Celia to taunt Ida Belle without anything more than her presence.
Ally and I made small talk with the other women seated at our table. Fortunately, we were surrounded by a mix of SLS members and GWs. Whenever the conversation began sounding more like a recruitment effort for the GWs, I changed the subject. If the SLS members broached any SLS effort, I asked questions.
Finally, someone said, “Fortune, you’re single. Do you have any hopes of one day joining the Sinful Ladies?”
“I probably won’t be here that long.”
“So you’re moving away after you settle your aunt’s estate?” Ally asked, seemingly disappointed.
“I can’t stay here forever,” I said, catching Carter’s smoldering expression.
Without meaning to, I tilted my head and studied him, wondering what he might be thinking then. I’d always been forthcoming in terms of my stay.
Sinful, Louisiana wouldn’t become my home.
On days like today, even with the silly tension between Ida Belle, Gertie, and Celia, I wished for a future that included Sinful, or at least someplace similar.
I’d grown to really appreciate Sinful and its Southern culture. With traditions that weren’t found in my world, someone could let their guard down, feel right at home. Then again, in my world, traditions could get someone killed.
A sniper didn’t have the luxury of traditions because customs established patterns and habits. Add in the CIA, and predictable behaviors could get an assassin killed. For now, I realized, my time in a bubble of normalcy could be enjoyed, even cherished, but it couldn’t last.
“Fortune?” Ally waved her hand in front of my face until I jerked. “Aren’t you going to have dessert?”
“Are you kidding? I came here for the sugar high.”
“Better be careful, your sugar addiction might not kill you today, but eventually, it’ll get you,” an older woman said, stuffing her cheeks with another heaping spoonful of banana pudding.
I saw movement near Celia’s back porch, just a gentle sway of branches as if someone had brushed against them. Unwilling to push aside that tingling on the back of my neck, that sixth sense that kept me on edge, I pushed away from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
Excusing myself, I hurried to the spot where I’d seen the movement. That’s when it occurred to me.
Even under the assumption of functioning under a dark cloud, I’d given myself way too much credit. I’d become the very embodiment of what I claimed to never be.
If someone out there had been watching me, they were able to set their clocks by me. All they had to do was follow the baked goods, social events, and my senior friends.
I’d left an undeniable trail.