“Miss Harlow, I’m Maxine Hokinson,” she said, holding out her hand.
Laurel quickly changed the roses to her left arm so she could take Jase’s aunt’s hand. “How nice to see you again, Miss Hokinson, but please call me Laurel.”
“And I’m Maxie.”
She’d forgotten how tiny Maxine Hokinson was, maybe five feet at the most—short and scrawny—but her bright blue eyes sparkled with energy. This was a woman who could move mountains, and Lolly bore a striking resemblance to her—watch out, world!
The dining room door opened and Lolly, wrapped in Mama’s frilly white apron, came down the hall toward them. “Dinner is served,” she announced in a mock-unctuous voice.
“Lolly!” Maxie rushed forward to embrace her niece. “We were so worried about you!”
Lolly threw her arms around her. “I’m sorry, Aunt Maxie. Truly I am. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She reached out her hand to her father. “I’m sorry, Dad, but this was something I had to do.”
He joined in the family embrace, but his voice was gruff. “Well, now that you’ve done it, young lady, we can take you home.”
Lolly pulled away from him, her eyes blazing.
Laurel caught her breath. This must be the “yelling” Lolly had complained about. Jase’s comment was tactless, but typically male. Couldn’t Lolly tell the effort it took for her father to control his emotions, how relieved he was that she was safe? Time to intervene. She moved forward with a big smile and held the rose bouquet out to Lolly.
“Honey, I know you and your dad have a lot to discuss, but would you mind taking these lovely flowers to the kitchen and putting them in water for me? The vases are in the upper cupboard next to the pantry.”
Recognizing an out when it was offered, Lolly grabbed at the bouquet. “Sure thing, Laurel. It’ll just take a sec. I have to get the rolls out anyway.” She gave her father a dark look and fled down the hall.
“We’ll be at the table,” Laurel called after her. Then, just as Mama used to, she led the parade into the dining room. Jase held her chair and Maxie’s before taking his seat directly across from her. Maxie was to her left, and Lolly, after setting the rolls on the table and the roses on the buffet, took the remaining chair.
Looking around the table, Laurel was pleased to note that Lolly had done an exemplary job of arranging the serving dishes. Apparently Maxie’s caterers had made a lasting impression on her.
She unfolded her napkin. Daddy always offered up a short grace before a meal, but since she usually ate standing up at the kitchen counter nowadays, she’d gotten lax. Tonight, however, as she placed her napkin in her lap and lifted a fork to signal the meal had begun, a panic raced through her, and she sent up her own desperate supplication.
Please, God, let the food be edible.
Then, with what she hoped was a confident smile on her face, she sampled her fare and relaxed back into her chair. Piggly Wiggly had fulfilled its promise. The candied carrots tasted just like the ones Mrs. January used to make as a special treat, the roast beef lived up to its aroma and was as tender as the package promised, the French-cut green beans were delicious, and the mashed potatoes were smooth and buttery—although it would be hard to mess up mashed potatoes.
Lolly put down her fork, raised her glass, and smiled in a way that made Laurel nervous. What now?
“Let’s drink to Laurel,” she announced. “She spent all afternoon preparing this delicious meal for us. Made everything from scratch.”
Jase and Maxie clinked their glasses together with Lolly’s.
Laurel had no choice but to say “thank you,” though she couldn’t help but wonder if toasts made with water were legitimate. Wine, of course, had been out of the question. It might be de rigueur at sophisticated dinner parties now that the county had gone wet, but all she was aiming at was adequacy. Besides, if anyone had seen her studying labels in Piggly Wiggly’s wine-beer-mixers aisle, it would have been all around town that the preacher’s daughter was drowning her sorrows in drink.
Directing the conversation toward her guests, she asked Jase about his career and hung on to his every word as he briefly outlined his climb up the ladder from parking attendant to lot manager, from employee to employer to investor. Laurel couldn’t be anything but impressed. Jase had worked hard. He was so different from Dave, who’d ducked out of work every opportunity he could to try out a new putter or play a couple of rounds of golf with his buddies.
“The turning point was when Jase bought his second lot,” Maxie interjected. “I could retire then and stay at home with Lolly. We thought that was important.”
Lolly grinned at her great-aunt. “I don’t know why. I had everything under control.” She turned to Laurel to explain. “We were living in a condo then, and the service people all knew me.”
Jase laughed. “You mean you had them all wound around your little finger. You were a spoiled brat.”