short pause. “Lillie? Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” she managed to say. Once she started to speak, casual conversation seemed to get easier. “Gram’s fine, if you don’t count the shower cap she insists on wearing all the time to cover her gray roots.”
“I told her to get a haircut weeks ago. See if you can talk her into it while you’re there, will you?”
“Sure.”
“Honey? Are you okay?”
“Me? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve just learned the truth about something that affected my entire childhood. That one fact finally answered the thousands of questions I’ve been asking myself for years. Trouble is, I don’t like those answers one bit.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. I just assumed you’d figured it out a long time ago, what with the way gossip travels in a small town like Gumption.”
“Well, ‘Ask and you shall receive,’” Lillie replied. She couldn’t blame God or anybody else if she’d gotten exactly the kind of answers she’d asked for, could she? And it did explain so much.
Suppose her mother had been the kind of resilient woman Darla Sue was? Suppose she’d chosen to forgive and keep their family together instead of divorcing Dad?
Then I wouldn’t have come to live with Gram and we’d probably never have been this close, Lillie realized with a start. Think what I’d have missed!
That conclusion made her smile in spite of everything. It looked as if maybe the good Lord did know what He was doing after all.
Lillie didn’t get back to DD’s till almost closing time. A skinny, acne-pocked kid she’d never met was stacking dishes in the utility sink when she popped in the back door. He glanced up briefly but didn’t seem nearly as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
She gave him a passing “Hi,” hung her jacket on a hook in the back room and went to find Helen. The faithful waitress was busing the last of the tables along the outside wall so Lillie pitched in to help.
“Thanks,” Helen said as they carried stacks of dirty plates to the cart and scraped off the garbage before sorting the dishes, silverware and plastic tumblers into separate bins. “How was the boss lady?”
“Fine, if you don’t mind seeing her in a shower cap all the time.”
Helen laughed. “That’s a new one.”
“It’s her hair,” Lillie said with a smile. “One of her friends teased her about letting the gray grow out and she refuses to let anyone else see it till it’s long enough to have all the dyed parts cut off. That’s why she’s been staying home.”
“Makes perfect sense to me. I used to be a redhead, back when I thought it mattered. Now, who cares? Plain brown is fine at my age. Besides, all the good men are taken.”
“I think you look nice.”
“Thanks. Speaking of good men, how’s your love life? Didn’t I hear you were thinkin’ of gettin’ married a while back?”
“That’s old news,” Lillie said flatly. “It didn’t work out.”
“Well, you always have your career,” Helen offered.
That smarted. “Not exactly. I quit my job.”
“Uh-oh. Does Darla Sue know?”
“No. I didn’t see any reason to mention it right away, considering all the other problems she’s facing. I’ll find work locally before I tell her.”
From the kitchen came a shouted “You can have my job!”
Lillie laughed. “Sorry, Rosie, I’m a terrible cook. You’re stuck, at least till I can convince Gram her hair doesn’t look funny.”
She made another trip to the dirty-dish cart. It had been years since she’d helped out in the café like this and she wasn’t as adroit as she’d once been. When she finished scooping refuse and turned, she realized she was sporting a smear of the restaurant’s trademark red-eye gravy across the front of her formerly pristine pink blouse.
“Oh, yuck.” She grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the stain, knowing the grease mark was probably already permanent.
The bell over the front door tinkled. She looked up from her cleaning project and saw a man entering. His leather jacket made him look like a cross between a member of a biker gang and a handsome, intriguing World War II fighter pilot. She’d opened her mouth to tell him politely that they were about to close when Helen elbowed her.
“That’s him,” the waitress hissed. “The preacher I told you about. His name’s James something-or-other.” She paused and sighed. “Poor man. He looks really beat.”
“And hungry,” Lillie added, noting the little lines of stress creasing his forehead above dark eyebrows and warm brown eyes. “I suppose it would be neighborly to feed him, even this late.”
“Not unless you want Rosie to pitch a fit,” Helen gibed. “She’s more than ready to go home.”
Lillie figured it was probably better to avoid conflict so she stuck out her right hand and went to head off the hungry preacher before he could sit down.
“Hello. I’m really sorry but we’re about to close,” she said, hoping the wash rag she was holding in front of her hid the soiled spot on her blouse.
“The way my day’s been going, that figures.” He shook her hand, then glanced at his fingers, which caused her to do the same. In her haste to stop him she’d inadvertently offered a hand that still had gravy on it.
Her cheeks warmed. “Oops. Sorry. We were cleaning up.”
“That’s okay. If I was really hungry I suppose I could just lick my fingers.”
In the background, Helen giggled. The dirty look Lillie gave her only made her laugh more.
“I’m James Warner,” the man said as he wiped his hands on a paper napkin he’d snagged from one of the tables.
“Lillie Delaney.” She was about to explain her relationship to Darla Sue when he grabbed her hand a second time and pumped it eagerly, gravy and all. “So, you’re Lillie. I am glad to finally meet you. Your grandmother has nothing but good things to say about you.”
“She’s prejudiced,” Lillie said, feeling her cheeks reddening more. She wished Gram had talked about the new preacher so she’d know more about him than Helen’s notion that some folks seemed to be out to get him.
“And rightly so. Imagine! Running your own company at such a young age.”
Lillie almost choked. She pulled her hand away. “What?”
He looked puzzled. “Maybe I misunderstood.”
“I doubt it. Gram tends to adopt any version of reality that makes her happy, whether it bears close resemblance to the truth or not.”
Seeing him start to scowl she quickly added, “She doesn’t mean to lie. She just puts a spin on things. By the time she’s told a story over and over, I doubt she has a clue what the real truth of the matter is. Actually, I worked for a large insurance company.”
“I see.”
Sensing a possible ally in her quest to help her grandmother, Lillie glanced at the glass cabinet behind the counter where they kept the desserts. “Look, Pastor Warner, I see we have scads of cherry pie left. How would you like a big piece of that, with ice cream, on the house?”
“I’d love it.”
He smiled and Lillie’s blush deepened. No wonder the church was running out of room. The Front Porch Christian congregation had to be overflowing with eligible women now that James was its pastor. That thought made her cringe.