“There’s our sixth!” one squealed.
“Cadence Cadence! Do you even know how much I love the name ‘Cadence?’ Well, I was just telling my sister, I was, how much I wish my name was ‘Cadence.’ I think my entire life would be different.”
Cadence nodded.
“Honey, you’re cute as a button! You come over here and sit next to me.”
Cadence took the offered seat and looked around for a place to put her purse.
“Naomi, for goodness sake! Can’t even take the poor girl’s purse and put it somewhere?”
Cadence’s purse was yanked out of her hands and given to Mrs. Connelly who took it inside. Her cell phone!! Her connection to Mark! He told her to text “Help” if he needed to pop by unannounced.
“I’m Martha,” the woman beside Cadence said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Gypsy,” a little toad of a woman said across the table.
Cadence smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
“That’s Marybeth,” Martha said, pointing to another squat woman sitting next to Gypsy. “She and I are often referred to as M&M. Ha! Get it!” she said, nudging Cadence.
Cadence giggled.
“And I’m LouAnn,” a tall woman said to Cadence’s right. She had the thickest Louisiana accent Cadence had ever heard, and she liked it immediately. “We’re just your regular Steel Magnolias, aren’t we, ladies?”
The women nodded in agreement.
“Don’t be scared of us, Cadence,” LouAnn said. “We’re just gonna pick your brain for a couple of hours, aren’t we, ladies?”
The women kept nodding. Their eyes sparkled, and their faces sported mischievous grins.
“Nothin’ to be alarmed about.” She leaned in close to Cadence. “We just wanna know your deep, dark secrets. That’s all.”
The ladies whooped with laughter.
Marybeth chimed in. “Now don’t you go scarin’ the poor thing to death. She’s only just arrived. And who said you could start drinkin’, LouAnn?”
“Oh, hush up. Not but a little whiskey in there. Can’t do harm to an ant,” she argued.
Cadence was in disbelief. Whiskey in LouAnn’s tea on a Sunday afternoon? An upstanding church member? She was impressed.
“Cadence, honey, I put whiskey in my tea for my health,” LouAnn explained.
“You put whiskey in your tea to get hammered,” Martha pointed out.
Cadence stifled a giggle.
“I put whiskey in my tea because Gawd made whiskey. And if Gawd made whiskey, it’s goin’ in my tea, Martha.”
Mrs. Connelly returned to the table and rolled her eyes.
“Are we talking about your drinking problem again, LouAnn? I swear, we have a guest here and you girls can’t keep things under wraps for more than five minutes.”
LouAnn straightened up in her seat and took a long sip of her whiskey-laced tea. She placed the cup carefully on the plate and addressed Cadence.
“Well, now that it’s all out in the open. Cadence, honey, I may have the slightest drinkin’ problem.”
Gypsy was itching to talk, but Mrs. Connelly bumped her arm and shot her a warning glance.
“These women are supposed to be helping me through my trials and tribulations, but the only thing they’ve done is encourage more drinkin’.”
“God didn’t make whiskey, LouAnn. I don’t know where you got that. Jesus turned water into wine, but wine is not whiskey,” Martha said.
“Oh, hush up, Martha. It’s symbolic. He made alcohol for our enjoyment.”
Cadence bit her lower lip to keep from saying, “Amen.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Mrs. Connelly replied. “He made wine for people who could handle it. That’s not you, LouAnn. Give me that cup.” She reached over and snatched the cup, sloshing a bit of tea on LouAnn’s placemat. “And now,” she began, looking at everyone around the table, “let’s back it up, pause, and start over.” She blinked and smiled. “Cucumber sandwiches, anyone?”
The ladies piled their glass sandwich plates with fruit, dip, mini rolls, and crackers. Mrs. Connelly made a plate for Cadence and passed it over.
“Eat what you like, dear. I just gave you a bit of everything,” she said, and Cadence nodded.
“How do you take your tea, honey?” Gypsy asked Cadence.
“Gypsy, this is my house, and I’m supposed to pour the tea,” Mrs. Connelly said.
“Oh, who cares about etiquette? And it’s too damn stuffy anyway.”
“Now, wait a minute. We have a rule about language on Sundays, Gypsy. You know this.”
“That’s her cross to bear,” LouAnn muttered to Cadence.
Cadence nodded and addressed Gypsy. “I’ll have a little milk and one sugar cube.”
She hated tea. Hated it. Who knew that when Fanny explained to her a long time ago that it was a social grace she’d just have to get used to, that she was referring to today? How could Cadence have ever guessed she’d be in Mrs. Connelly’s back yard sharing conversation and cucumber sandwiches?
“I think it’s only fair that everyone else reveal their spiritual struggles since now Cadence knows I’m an alcoholic and Gypsy has a filthy mouth,” LouAnn pointed out.