The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

“I’m sorry you’ve lost Euphoria,” Liz said. She tilted her head to one side, considering. “Mrs. Alexander is letting her cook go. Pearly is a good hand with pies and biscuits, and Grady says she definitely has to find another job. You could give her a try.”


Grady Alexander, the Cypress County agriculture agent, was Liz’s boyfriend. Just the month before, his father had died when the M&R locomotive he was driving derailed at the river crossing. Myra May had heard that his mother had to cut back on expenses.

Liz paused, then qualified her recommendation. “Pearly’s meat loaf is only so-so, though. And I wouldn’t recommend her pies, especially her meringue. It’s weepy.”

Charlie snorted. “Lord deliver us from weepy meringues.”

Myra May pressed her lips together, thinking that hard times for some folks—like poor Mrs. Alexander, who had not only lost her husband but her husband’s paycheck—meant hard times for even more folks. “Euphoria is one of a kind,” she said with a sigh. “It might take two, maybe three, to replace her.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Ophelia said in a practical tone. “You get yourself seven cooks to come in and audition, you’ve got free cooking for a week.”

Charlie looked down his nose at Ophelia. “Free advertisin’, too, if Ophelia gets right on that story.” He turned to Liz. “I was just reaching for the phone to call you when Myra May came in with her ad.”

“What’s up?” Liz asked.

“It’s the Dare Devils,” he replied. “The air show.”

Liz looked apprehensive. “Uh-oh. What about it? Don’t tell me that something’s gone wrong!”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Charlie said in a deliberate, matter-of-fact tone. “But since you’re in charge of the festival, I think you ought to know how things stand. I just got off the line with Lily Dare. She called because I’m supposed to interview her when she flies in, for the story we’re running. But there’s been some trouble. They did an air show down in Pensacola last weekend. Seems there was a problem with Miss Dare’s plane.” He pulled his eyebrows together. “She thinks it was sabotage.”

“Sabotage,” Ophelia echoed blankly. “Why, who would do a thing like that?”

“Sabotage!” Myra May’s eyes widened. “That sounds serious.”

“Sabotage?” Liz asked uncertainly. “What kind of sabotage?”

Charlie shrugged. “How should I know what kind of sabotage? I’m just repeating what Miss Dare told me. The bottom line is that the plane needs a new propeller, which has to come from St. Louis. Nobody’s just real sure when it’ll arrive. She said she’d call as soon as she had any news.”

“Rats,” Myra May said expressively, and Ophelia groaned.

“Oh, dear.” Liz’s voice was low and anxious. “There’s no chance the show will be canceled, is there?”

“Dunno,” Charlie said. “But it didn’t sound too good.”

“I sincerely hope they don’t cancel,” Myra May said, pursing her lips. “If they do, Darling is going to be very disappointed.”

“I hope not, too,” Ophelia said fervently. “This air show is the biggest thing that’s ever happened in this town.” She paused. “I guess I’d better tell Jed. He’s vice president of the Lions Club, you know. And Roger Kilgore will have to be told, of course. He’s the one who arranged all this—and he’s got that special promotion going on. If you buy a car, you get a free airplane ride.” She turned to Liz. “Maybe you ought to let Mildred know, too, Liz. Miss Dare is supposed to be the guest of honor at her party. And she’s staying at their house.”

“Yes, I think I’d better,” Liz said slowly. “Although I hate to bother her before we know anything for sure. Mildred seems to have had a lot on her mind lately.”

“Then maybe you should wait until Charlie hears back from Miss Dare,” Myra May said. She was torn. She hoped that the Kilgores’ party wouldn’t be canceled, since she and Violet were counting on the extra money. But if they couldn’t find another cook, they’d be in serious trouble.

“I’m afraid not,” Liz said reluctantly. “Once Jed and Roger know, Mildred is going to find out. So I’d better tell her.”

Myra May went to the door. “I’ve got to get back to the diner, girls. Violet’s in the kitchen all by herself.” Over her shoulder, she added, “Ophelia, if you want to write that story about our auditions, you just come on over. And Liz, you be sure to let me know if you need help with the festival.”

“You could call all the Dahlias and let them know about Friday afternoon,” Liz said. “The garden is producing like crazy and we need to get stuff picked and toted over to the fairgrounds. Everybody has to pitch in.”

“I’ll do the calls this afternoon,” Myra May promised. Most of the Dahlias were on party lines. It took only two or three phone calls to reach the entire membership.