The Glass Is Always Greener by Tamar Myers

Author:Tamar Myers
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-01-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

It was already past six when the police let me go. Ergo I didn’t stand a chance of winning the bet.

“Abby, darling,” Mama said, over her fillet at the Texas Roadhouse, “you should lock yourself up in your hotel room until Greg gets up here. Bodies are dropping like flies wherever you go.”

“Please, Mama,” I said, “the waiter might hear you.”

“Did you say you wanted fries, ma’am?” the waiter said.

Everyone burst out laughing except for Douglas, our flummoxed waitperson, and yours truly. “No,” Mama said, “but we’ll take another basket of those rolls—um, make that two baskets. And more honey butter, please. I swear, I could fill up on just those rolls.”

“I hear you, Mozella,” Wynnell said. “Those rolls make my tongue want to come out and slap my head silly.”

This time everyone, including Douglas, laughed—except for C.J. “Ooh, Wynnell, I know that’s a good Southernism, but I really wish you wouldn’t say it. Cousin Cornelius Ledbetter really did have a tongue that long and it got him into all kinds of trouble. He went up North one winter—it was really cold up there—and his tongue got frozen to—”

“To a light pole.” Mama sighed. “C.J., we all saw that movie.”

“It wasn’t a light pole, Mozella,” C.J. said, somewhat piqued. “That just doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“No pun intended,” I said, and we all laughed—except C.J.

“Really, y’all,” she said, turning red, “do you want to hear the story, or not?”

“Of course we do,” Wynnell said quickly. I can’t blame the poor woman for capitulating so quickly; after all, it was she who had to endure the ride up to Charlotte with my ex-sister-in-law. (A pouting C.J. is enough to drive a busload of optimists over a cliff on a sunny day.)

“Well, it’s like this. It was actually both tongues that came out—”

“Now wait just one biscuit-baking minute,” I said. “You really expect us to believe that your cousin has two tongues?”

The big galoot rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever wear tie-up shoes, Abby? Like sneakers?”

“Oh!”

“Cheese and crackers, Abby—I mean, you didn’t really think I meant his lingua, did you?” Of the seventeen languages C.J. speaks, Latin gets the least use, so she is always happy when she gets to toss in a word that we’ll understand by context.

“Of course not—” Thank goodness our conversation was interrupted by the delivery of two baskets of soft, warm yeast rolls, and freshly filled tubs of honey butter.

After Mama had inhaled two rolls she nudged C.J. “Let’s go make a scene and embarrass the girls.”

“This time you’re keeping your clothes on, Mozella,” C.J. said to my seventy-five-year-old mama.

“Whatever,” Mama said.

I knew what they were up to. The Texas Roadhouse has a genuine saddle that you get to sit on if it’s your birthday. Mostly children do this, and while they’re in this photo opportunity the waitstaff sings the birthday song and onlookers clap. In short, everyone has a good time. However, my wee madre insists on climbing aboard the saddle every time we

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