can.
“'Mater sandwiches,” Peggy informed the nurse, a big smile on her too-thin face. “Wait until you taste!”
The sandwiches were the best Laurel had ever made, creamy and juicy and salty and sweet all at once. The bread had just the right degree of squishiness. They taught the nurse to bend over the sink to eat it so the juice wouldn't run down her elbows.
“Oh, that is good.” The woman groaned with pleasure and reached for a second one. Even Peggy managed to get down a half a sandwich.
“I've never eaten so much mayonnaise at one time in my life,” the nurse said.
So Peggy and Laurel started showing off, listing the specialties based on one of the South's basic foods.
“We even make a cake from it,” Laurel bragged.
“Maggie makes the best,” Peggy said.
“I love Maggie to death, but you can't beat the one they serve at McGuire's,” Laurel protested.
Perry suggested a contest, promising to produce cakes from both Maggie and McGuire's for the nurse to judge. Laurel offered her ten bucks as a bribe, which made Peggy laugh. It was the kind of silliness Peggy needed—or maybe they all needed it. All Laurel knew was that Peggy ate the second half of her tomato sandwich. “Oh, we're having
fun
,” she said, over and over, like a kid at Christmas. And for that night, thanks to The Wiener's tomatoes, they were.
Later, after Peggy had been helped into bed and given her meds, Laurel went in to say good night. Peggy took Laurel's hand in hers and kissed it. “I'm so lucky,” she whispered. “I'm the luckiest woman in the world.”
And the ravaged little face looking up at her was so alive and hungry for happiness that Laurel wanted to punch the wall. But she made herself nod and kiss Peggy's cheek. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she said, with a big fake smile. “Now get some sleep.” And she kept herself from running until she got out of the room.
Perry caught up with her outside in the driveway.
“She's lucky?” Laurel whispered, although she wanted to scream. “Peggy never had a lucky day in her life. And now it's over. The whole goddam thing is over for her, and she never got what she wanted.”
“Maybe she had more than you know,” Perry said.
“She wanted a baby, did you know that? She wanted a daughter, and that old bastard Dalton wouldn't let her have one.”
“But she got herself one anyway. I think that's what she was trying to tell you.”
And just as suddenly as the anger had come, it vanished. Because Perry was right. “We didn't have enough time,” she said. “I've only known her for a little while.”
“Yeah. It isn't fair to you.”
But this time he was wrong. “No. I'm lucky too,” she said.
They stood quietly for a moment; then, without her asking, he walked her over to her car.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
There was a breeze stirring the night air and a star-packed summer sky above her. For a brief insane second she almost forgot Perry was Denny's baby brother. But then he opened her car door for her and said, “Drive safe, Laurel Selene,” just the way Denny always used to, and she remembered. She drove off, resolving not to forget again.
Which was why she freaked when she saw him the next day in the SuperSave Market. He was leaning over to pick up a package of chicken parts, and she watched him for almost a minute before she realized what she was doing.
You are not checking out The Wiener's butt!
she told herself furiously.
You are not!
She had run out of the store, narrowly missing a display of banana-pudding samples in the produce section.
Now, as the Viper roared through the night, Laurel could feel her cheeks burning all over again when she remembered the moment in the SuperSave. The Wiener was cute, there was no getting away from that, but she was eight years older than he was, and there was something deeply wrong about having the hots—even momentarily—for the infant sibling of the guy who had been your spiritual if not your
“'Mater sandwiches,” Peggy informed the nurse, a big smile on her too-thin face. “Wait until you taste!”
The sandwiches were the best Laurel had ever made, creamy and juicy and salty and sweet all at once. The bread had just the right degree of squishiness. They taught the nurse to bend over the sink to eat it so the juice wouldn't run down her elbows.
“Oh, that is good.” The woman groaned with pleasure and reached for a second one. Even Peggy managed to get down a half a sandwich.
“I've never eaten so much mayonnaise at one time in my life,” the nurse said.
So Peggy and Laurel started showing off, listing the specialties based on one of the South's basic foods.
“We even make a cake from it,” Laurel bragged.
“Maggie makes the best,” Peggy said.
“I love Maggie to death, but you can't beat the one they serve at McGuire's,” Laurel protested.
Perry suggested a contest, promising to produce cakes from both Maggie and McGuire's for the nurse to judge. Laurel offered her ten bucks as a bribe, which made Peggy laugh. It was the kind of silliness Peggy needed—or maybe they all needed it. All Laurel knew was that Peggy ate the second half of her tomato sandwich. “Oh, we're having
fun
,” she said, over and over, like a kid at Christmas. And for that night, thanks to The Wiener's tomatoes, they were.
Later, after Peggy had been helped into bed and given her meds, Laurel went in to say good night. Peggy took Laurel's hand in hers and kissed it. “I'm so lucky,” she whispered. “I'm the luckiest woman in the world.”
And the ravaged little face looking up at her was so alive and hungry for happiness that Laurel wanted to punch the wall. But she made herself nod and kiss Peggy's cheek. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she said, with a big fake smile. “Now get some sleep.” And she kept herself from running until she got out of the room.
Perry caught up with her outside in the driveway.
“She's lucky?” Laurel whispered, although she wanted to scream. “Peggy never had a lucky day in her life. And now it's over. The whole goddam thing is over for her, and she never got what she wanted.”
“Maybe she had more than you know,” Perry said.
“She wanted a baby, did you know that? She wanted a daughter, and that old bastard Dalton wouldn't let her have one.”
“But she got herself one anyway. I think that's what she was trying to tell you.”
And just as suddenly as the anger had come, it vanished. Because Perry was right. “We didn't have enough time,” she said. “I've only known her for a little while.”
“Yeah. It isn't fair to you.”
But this time he was wrong. “No. I'm lucky too,” she said.
They stood quietly for a moment; then, without her asking, he walked her over to her car.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
There was a breeze stirring the night air and a star-packed summer sky above her. For a brief insane second she almost forgot Perry was Denny's baby brother. But then he opened her car door for her and said, “Drive safe, Laurel Selene,” just the way Denny always used to, and she remembered. She drove off, resolving not to forget again.
Which was why she freaked when she saw him the next day in the SuperSave Market. He was leaning over to pick up a package of chicken parts, and she watched him for almost a minute before she realized what she was doing.
You are not checking out The Wiener's butt!
she told herself furiously.
You are not!
She had run out of the store, narrowly missing a display of banana-pudding samples in the produce section.
Now, as the Viper roared through the night, Laurel could feel her cheeks burning all over again when she remembered the moment in the SuperSave. The Wiener was cute, there was no getting away from that, but she was eight years older than he was, and there was something deeply wrong about having the hots—even momentarily—for the infant sibling of the guy who had been your spiritual if not your
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