number, she had checked her office voice mail this morning to see if he had left a message. Nothing.
Her cell phone chirped and she keyed in to the call. “Lanita’s here,” her mother said. “Darrell took the kids fishin’, so she drove down here to see us.”
Joanna’s older sister lived up in Lubbock. Her husband was a high school teacher and coach, and Lanita worked as a loan processor for a mortgage broker. She hadn’t been to Hatlow in a couple of months. “I’ll come over,” Joanna said. “Have y’all had lunch?”
“Not yet. We was thinkin’ ’bout gettin’ some burgers at the Sonic.”
Joanna grinned. One thing she could count on was that Mom hadn’t gone out of her way to prepare a Sunday dinner for company. “I’m just ready to leave here,” Joanna said. “I’ll stop by and pick some up.”
She took a couple dozen eggs from the cooler to give to her sister, then closed up everything and washed her hands with disinfecting soap. She drove back to town, stopped off at Sonic and bought burgers, French fries and onion rings, then drove to the small ranch-style house of tan brick where she and Lanita had spent the first part of their lives.
Inside, she found Lanita watching one of Mom’s John Wayne movies. To her surprise, their mother was ironing a shirt. After saying hello and hugging her sister, Joanna turned to Mom. “You’re ironing?”
“I got to have clothes to wear,” her mother replied. “Since I ain’t got nobody else to do it, I got to, bad as I hate it. I like wearin’ cotton. It’s still too hot for polyester.”
No way did Joanna intend to be conned into doing Mom’s ironing. She studied her mother for a few seconds. She couldn’t recall a time when she had seen her enjoy any part of housekeeping or cooking. Joanna often wondered just exactly what part of married life Mom had enjoyed. “Do you have tea brewed? I didn’t buy any.”
“I made sweet tea yesterday,” her mom answered. “It’s in the ’frigerator.”
Joanna went to the kitchen, wagging the Sonic sack with her.
“Be sure to wash that chicken crap off your hands,” her mother called behind her.
Lanita followed her into the kitchen, giggling. “So how’s the egg farm?”
Joanna turned on the water in the stainless steel sink for yet another hand washing. Since becoming a chicken owner, she had become obsessive about it. “It’s okay. Not as profitable as I’d like, though. I brought you a couple dozen eggs.”
“Oh, thanks.” Lanita leaned her backside against the counter edge and crossed her arms. “If you aren’t making money, I can’t believe you’re still doing this, Joanna. What a lot of work.”
Joanna grinned, tore off some sheets of paper towel and dried her hands. “Tell me about it.”
“Are you dating anyone now?”
Uh-oh . That question usually meant Lanita had someone in mind for Joanna to date. Intending to block her big sister’s good intentions, she answered, “I’m through with men.”
Lanita made an exaggerated sigh. “I guess you might as well take that attitude. Who would you date in Hatlow, even if you wanted to? What happened to what’s his name from Lubbock?”
Joanna began to put away some of the dozens of items strewn over the countertop. “Scott Goodman? He moved to Fort Worth.”
“Did you break up with him?”
“You might say that.” Scott Goddman, a pharmaceutical salesman from Lubbock, was suave, good-looking and overcritical. Joanna had spent every weekend with him for six months, until she discovered he spent weekdays with someone else who lived in Lubbock.
“I didn’t like him dating someone in Lubbock while he was sleeping with me. I’m funny that way.”
Lanita sniggered. “It’s just as well. He’ll never be anything but a salesman. Some new guys have come in to help Darrell coach and—”
“Lanita, does Darrell think it’s part of his job description to force his unsuspecting staff to go out with his pitiful
Her cell phone chirped and she keyed in to the call. “Lanita’s here,” her mother said. “Darrell took the kids fishin’, so she drove down here to see us.”
Joanna’s older sister lived up in Lubbock. Her husband was a high school teacher and coach, and Lanita worked as a loan processor for a mortgage broker. She hadn’t been to Hatlow in a couple of months. “I’ll come over,” Joanna said. “Have y’all had lunch?”
“Not yet. We was thinkin’ ’bout gettin’ some burgers at the Sonic.”
Joanna grinned. One thing she could count on was that Mom hadn’t gone out of her way to prepare a Sunday dinner for company. “I’m just ready to leave here,” Joanna said. “I’ll stop by and pick some up.”
She took a couple dozen eggs from the cooler to give to her sister, then closed up everything and washed her hands with disinfecting soap. She drove back to town, stopped off at Sonic and bought burgers, French fries and onion rings, then drove to the small ranch-style house of tan brick where she and Lanita had spent the first part of their lives.
Inside, she found Lanita watching one of Mom’s John Wayne movies. To her surprise, their mother was ironing a shirt. After saying hello and hugging her sister, Joanna turned to Mom. “You’re ironing?”
“I got to have clothes to wear,” her mother replied. “Since I ain’t got nobody else to do it, I got to, bad as I hate it. I like wearin’ cotton. It’s still too hot for polyester.”
No way did Joanna intend to be conned into doing Mom’s ironing. She studied her mother for a few seconds. She couldn’t recall a time when she had seen her enjoy any part of housekeeping or cooking. Joanna often wondered just exactly what part of married life Mom had enjoyed. “Do you have tea brewed? I didn’t buy any.”
“I made sweet tea yesterday,” her mom answered. “It’s in the ’frigerator.”
Joanna went to the kitchen, wagging the Sonic sack with her.
“Be sure to wash that chicken crap off your hands,” her mother called behind her.
Lanita followed her into the kitchen, giggling. “So how’s the egg farm?”
Joanna turned on the water in the stainless steel sink for yet another hand washing. Since becoming a chicken owner, she had become obsessive about it. “It’s okay. Not as profitable as I’d like, though. I brought you a couple dozen eggs.”
“Oh, thanks.” Lanita leaned her backside against the counter edge and crossed her arms. “If you aren’t making money, I can’t believe you’re still doing this, Joanna. What a lot of work.”
Joanna grinned, tore off some sheets of paper towel and dried her hands. “Tell me about it.”
“Are you dating anyone now?”
Uh-oh . That question usually meant Lanita had someone in mind for Joanna to date. Intending to block her big sister’s good intentions, she answered, “I’m through with men.”
Lanita made an exaggerated sigh. “I guess you might as well take that attitude. Who would you date in Hatlow, even if you wanted to? What happened to what’s his name from Lubbock?”
Joanna began to put away some of the dozens of items strewn over the countertop. “Scott Goodman? He moved to Fort Worth.”
“Did you break up with him?”
“You might say that.” Scott Goddman, a pharmaceutical salesman from Lubbock, was suave, good-looking and overcritical. Joanna had spent every weekend with him for six months, until she discovered he spent weekdays with someone else who lived in Lubbock.
“I didn’t like him dating someone in Lubbock while he was sleeping with me. I’m funny that way.”
Lanita sniggered. “It’s just as well. He’ll never be anything but a salesman. Some new guys have come in to help Darrell coach and—”
“Lanita, does Darrell think it’s part of his job description to force his unsuspecting staff to go out with his pitiful
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