empty room and pulled
myself together, heading toward the shower. Twenty minutes later, I wandered
into the kitchen, where Dixie and Margarita were going over the menu for
tonight.
Ingredients were scattered about the
kitchen counter, but I didn’t see any pots on the stove. Along one wall was a
grill loaded with eggs and bacon, carefully being watched by a man with a bald
head.
“This sure is quite a menu,” Margarita
said. “I just hope I can pull it off.”
“Not to worry. I already gave Kevin
instructions on how to prepare the dishes.”
I sniffed the kitchen. “I smell gumbo, but
I don’t see it.”
“It’s cooking outside over an open fire. I
figured it would help lure customers.”
“Great idea, Dixie.”
Margarita clicked her tongue. “Okay, creamy
Cajun pasta sounds fairly easy to make, but the gumbo, jambalaya, and dirty
rice with shrimp, not so much.”
“Don’t forget the spicy catfish tenders
with the Cajun tartar sauce. I hope we remembered to buy mayonnaise and not
that Miracle Whip you northern folks use,” Dixie said.
“If not, we can make some. Homemade is
better anyway,” I said.
“You girls are doing such a great job, but
I’m just worried that I won’t be able to pull this off.”
We spent the better part of an hour
convincing Margarita that this would go off without a hitch. I just hoped we
were right.
“The parade is starting in an hour, so you
girls better shovel the SUV out.”
“Doesn’t it have four-wheel drive?”
“Sure does, but we must have gotten at
least seven inches overnight. If you remember right, you drove into a snow bank
when you parked yesterday.”
“Don’t you have some men who could do
that?”
“A man, really? Does Louisiana Sassy really
need a man to shovel for her?”
“Not at all.”
“Time is a wastin’,” Margarita said.
“Besides, you girls are plenty young enough to handle the shoveling. Welcome to
Michigan.”
***
Once Dixie and I were bundled up, we
meandered our way out to the parking lot. The snow was so deep that it found
its way inside my boot. I took a shovelful of snow and carried it over to drop
at the edge of the lot. “This sure is heavier than I thought it would be. It
looks so light and fluffy, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when it’s on
the shovel.”
“That’s because it’s wet,” Dixie pointed
out.
I just shook my head. “I’ll just be happy
when I can be back where winter is fifty degrees.”
“I hear that,” Dixie said, with a wisp of
white frozen air.
I was all kinds of mad, thinking about all that
I was missing back home right now. “I can’t believe I’m missing boiled
crawfish.”
“Yes, and it’s the first of the season, too.
But hopefully we’ll be home before Mardi Gras. Unless, of course, we’re locked in
jail for a murder we didn’t commit.”
“Don’t say that, Dixie. We have plenty of
leads to follow through with.”
“Like what?”
“Clayton’s boss and friends, for starters.
We won’t let on that we know he was flashing cash in town, unless someone else
tells us the same thing.”
“Do you believe what Daniel Adams had to
say about Clayton?”
“For some reason, I do. I don’t think he
wanted to tell us, though.”
“I just wonder if he knows more than he’s
saying, Tammy.”
“I have to agree with you there, Dixie, but
time will tell.”
We fell silent as we went back to shoveling
until my fingertips and toes were numb. My back also ached like all get out. We
made our way inside and into the kitchen, where there was a bustle of activity.
“You girls better get dolled up and take
the chili down for the competition. It’s located down the center of town, where
the awning is set up.”
“I remember.”
Dixie and I changed into skinny jeans and
lacy blouses, applying makeup. Dixie about killed me with all the hairspray she
used on her teased-up hair. “You’re killing the ozone layer with all that
spray. You should be using a pump
myself together, heading toward the shower. Twenty minutes later, I wandered
into the kitchen, where Dixie and Margarita were going over the menu for
tonight.
Ingredients were scattered about the
kitchen counter, but I didn’t see any pots on the stove. Along one wall was a
grill loaded with eggs and bacon, carefully being watched by a man with a bald
head.
“This sure is quite a menu,” Margarita
said. “I just hope I can pull it off.”
“Not to worry. I already gave Kevin
instructions on how to prepare the dishes.”
I sniffed the kitchen. “I smell gumbo, but
I don’t see it.”
“It’s cooking outside over an open fire. I
figured it would help lure customers.”
“Great idea, Dixie.”
Margarita clicked her tongue. “Okay, creamy
Cajun pasta sounds fairly easy to make, but the gumbo, jambalaya, and dirty
rice with shrimp, not so much.”
“Don’t forget the spicy catfish tenders
with the Cajun tartar sauce. I hope we remembered to buy mayonnaise and not
that Miracle Whip you northern folks use,” Dixie said.
“If not, we can make some. Homemade is
better anyway,” I said.
“You girls are doing such a great job, but
I’m just worried that I won’t be able to pull this off.”
We spent the better part of an hour
convincing Margarita that this would go off without a hitch. I just hoped we
were right.
“The parade is starting in an hour, so you
girls better shovel the SUV out.”
“Doesn’t it have four-wheel drive?”
“Sure does, but we must have gotten at
least seven inches overnight. If you remember right, you drove into a snow bank
when you parked yesterday.”
“Don’t you have some men who could do
that?”
“A man, really? Does Louisiana Sassy really
need a man to shovel for her?”
“Not at all.”
“Time is a wastin’,” Margarita said.
“Besides, you girls are plenty young enough to handle the shoveling. Welcome to
Michigan.”
***
Once Dixie and I were bundled up, we
meandered our way out to the parking lot. The snow was so deep that it found
its way inside my boot. I took a shovelful of snow and carried it over to drop
at the edge of the lot. “This sure is heavier than I thought it would be. It
looks so light and fluffy, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when it’s on
the shovel.”
“That’s because it’s wet,” Dixie pointed
out.
I just shook my head. “I’ll just be happy
when I can be back where winter is fifty degrees.”
“I hear that,” Dixie said, with a wisp of
white frozen air.
I was all kinds of mad, thinking about all that
I was missing back home right now. “I can’t believe I’m missing boiled
crawfish.”
“Yes, and it’s the first of the season, too.
But hopefully we’ll be home before Mardi Gras. Unless, of course, we’re locked in
jail for a murder we didn’t commit.”
“Don’t say that, Dixie. We have plenty of
leads to follow through with.”
“Like what?”
“Clayton’s boss and friends, for starters.
We won’t let on that we know he was flashing cash in town, unless someone else
tells us the same thing.”
“Do you believe what Daniel Adams had to
say about Clayton?”
“For some reason, I do. I don’t think he
wanted to tell us, though.”
“I just wonder if he knows more than he’s
saying, Tammy.”
“I have to agree with you there, Dixie, but
time will tell.”
We fell silent as we went back to shoveling
until my fingertips and toes were numb. My back also ached like all get out. We
made our way inside and into the kitchen, where there was a bustle of activity.
“You girls better get dolled up and take
the chili down for the competition. It’s located down the center of town, where
the awning is set up.”
“I remember.”
Dixie and I changed into skinny jeans and
lacy blouses, applying makeup. Dixie about killed me with all the hairspray she
used on her teased-up hair. “You’re killing the ozone layer with all that
spray. You should be using a pump
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