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“PRESS CHARGES?” MARY-Alice faltered.
“You can’t just let people go around disturbing the peace and disrespecting elected officials. I won’t even go into the disgusting details of what that woman—”
“Did you send Fortune and Gertie to jail?” Ally demanded.
“Not exactly jail.” Celia sounded a little disappointed. “The next-best solution. Anger management camp. And it’s a good thing, too. You should’ve heard the things those two...well, I’m a lady, and I won’t repeat it, but mark my words, it was disgraceful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the ruckus all the way over here. Ally, don’t look at me like that.”
Ally strode over to the counter, ripped the page off her pad, and impaled it on the check spindle with a good deal more force than necessary.
Celia seemed baffled her tale of triumph wasn’t meeting with more approval. Having lost half her audience, Celia turned back to Mary-Alice.
“I know you like to be friends with everyone you meet, Mary-Alice, you’re like a pathetic little puppy sometimes, honestly. But those women are a terrible influence and I’m glad you’ll have a few days free of them. The only bad thing is Ida-Belle isn’t going with them. Now I would never dream of telling you what to do, but if you were to ask my advice, I’d tell you to stay far away from those three. Far away.”
Mary-Alice didn’t know what to say. She knew she should try to stay on good terms with her cousin, but she felt loyal to Gertie, Ida Belle, and Fortune. Fortunately. Celia didn’t wait for Mary-Alice’s reply.
“Anyway, I’m happy to share a meal with you when I can, like today, but you can’t expect me to keep you company all the time. As you know, the mayor’s office comes with great responsibility. You’ll have to learn to make friends on your own.”
Mary-Alice nodded. She wondered how much time it could possibly take to manage the affairs of a town with a population of 253. But she was secretly relieved Celia’s duties would be keeping her occupied.
“Well, Celia, I’ll certainly miss your company, but I suppose I’ll keep busy with my lessons and my remodeling. Oh, the kitchen walls turned out the loveliest shade of yellow—”
“Now don’t tell me you’re still frittering away your life savings on that run-down old money pit. I don’t like to be a snob, Mary-Alice, but when people find out that the poor soul living in that old shack is an Arceneaux...”
In fact, Celia had been complaining to anyone who would listen that the old Cooper place was far too grand for Mary-Alice. If Mary-Alice wasn’t careful, Celia declared, people would think she was getting above herself. But although Celia’s reasoning was inconsistent, her determination to put others in the wrong was unwavering.
“I suppose as long as you’re spending all your time and savings on your little renovations, you’ll be staying out of trouble and away from bad company. So that’s a mercy, at least.”
“You always have such good advice for me, Celia. Oh, look. Here’s Almira. My goodness, what happened to her?”
Almira Galvez-Whitbread was soaking wet. Her hair lay flat on her head. Specks and sticks clung to her clothes, and her feet were caked in mud.
She stood by the front door, perhaps afraid to track mud onto Francine’s immaculate floor.
“I need help.” Almira spoke so quietly, Mary-Alice could barely hear her.
Celia and Mary-Alice stood up at the same time: Mary-Alice to assist, Celia to confront the undesirable who had disrupted her lunch.
“What is going on here?” Celia stomped over to confront the woman. Mary-Alice followed her.
“Please.” Almira ran her hand through her hair and then pulled it away, as if she was surprised to find it was wet. “I just—”
“I am the mayor of this municipality.” Celia’s delivery was so effortless it sounded as if she had been practicing the phrase in the mirror. “And I’ll thank you not to disturb the peace. If you have an incident to report, you may do so at the sheriff’s office.”
Almira blinked, and looked from Celia to Mary-Alice and then back to Celia.
“There’s a sheriff?”
“It’s right over there, you Yankee nitwit,” Celia boomed, pointing over Almira’s shoulder.
By now all the diners had stopped their conversations and set down their utensils. The ones who were unlucky enough to be facing the wrong way had turned around to watch the show.
“Next to the butcher shop,” Mary-Alice added. “It’s easy to miss if you don’t know the town. Celia, maybe we should walk her over.”
Celia glared around the diner.
“What are you all gawking at? I suppose I’ll have to deal with this too. You people won’t be happy until you’ve worked me to death. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“Excuse me? Aunt Celia? Aunt Mary-Alice?” Ally came running up with the check and a bakery box. But Celia had already marched Almira halfway across the road. Mary-Alice stood alone.