“What kind of secret mission?”
“They won’t say.”
I arched my left eyebrow at Tinkie. “They won’t say? As if they had a choice. You can break Oscar any time you choose. Why didn’t you worm the info out of him?”
“I tried.”
If Oscar was impervious to Tinkie’s Daddy’s Girl manipulations—tactics that had kept feminine women in control for decades—then it had to be some serious “secret mission.”
“I can’t believe Oscar has eluded your control.”
“Not permanently. Just for right now. Did you ask Coleman?”
“I didn’t know about it. But I will.” I pointed at the coffeepot. “Let me take him a cup.”
Tinkie waved me on as she went to the French doors and stepped out on the balcony. It was a cold December morning, and the air was crystal clear. Below the balcony, the Tombigbee River flowed by. The bluff down to the river was very steep, though. I could see several boats at the dock, and all were wearing tinsel garlands and other holiday decorations. The flotilla was going to be fun.
I took the coffee into the bedroom and closed the door. “Coleman, it’s pointless to try to evade Tinkie. You might as well get up.”
“Nope.”
“What’s the secret mission you guys are working on?” I handed him the coffee.
“Nope.”
I sighed. “Coleman, don’t mess me around. Just tell me.”
“Nope.” He had that smug look on his face that said make me. It was a definite challenge, and if Tinkie hadn’t been sitting right outside the bedroom door listening to every squeak of the bedsprings, I would have.
“To be continued,” I said.
“I look forward to it.” He grinned really big, far too pleased with himself.
“You will pay.”
“A high toll, I hope.” He laughed and jumped out of bed. “There’s no rest for the wicked here. Remind me never to go on vacation with Tinkie again.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Maybe I’ll send Tinkie in here to extract that information from you.”
A flash of worry flitted in his eyes, but then he laughed again. “You wouldn’t. You want to settle this by yourself. You don’t need help, do you?”
Oh, he was a wicked taunter. “Right now I have to shower. Tinkie is whipping the herd into movement. If you’d been nicer, I would have invited you to shower with me.” I put that on the carpet at his feet.
“You’re a hard woman, Sarah Booth.”
“Thank you.” I turned on my heel and went back to the sitting area, where Tinkie was sipping her coffee as if she hadn’t been listening at the door. “Do you think Coleman will tell you?”
“Before the evening comes.”
“I’m going back to get dressed. See you in the lobby in forty minutes.”
“Yes, Field Marshal Tinkie.”
“Tease me all you like. I get things done.”
That wasn’t an exaggeration.
Tinkie had roused us all for our shopping ordeal, but she relented on allowing time for a hearty breakfast when Darla appeared with an egg, cheese, and asparagus casserole that smelled like five delicious pounds of extra weight. Homemade biscuits, scuppernong jelly, and vegetarian sausage completed the meal. We were a full and jolly crowd as we parted at the front porch, the men going their way and the women heading to town.
“Be sure and go by the Wooden Spoon,” Darla called out to us as we loaded in the limo. “They’re having a big sale today. I’ll be there later to pick up some kitchen supplies.”
Safely in the car, we watched the men cluster on the front porch to make plans. The limo driver would return for them and take them to their secret destination.
Tinkie nodded at the limo driver. “If push comes to shove, we can force him into telling us where they went.”
Rex was the driver, and he’d been nothing but professional. I had a moment of pity for Rex. He would never withstand the onslaught of Tinkie’s charms, should she choose to unleash them on him.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I was curious, but willing to put it on hold for the day. Whatever the men were up to, it was going to be fun for us girls. Or that was the theory I was going with. “Now what’s on the shopping hit list?”
“Shoes!” They all three answered at once.
I sighed. Resistance was futile.
Cece and Millie were in great spirits, eager to hit some of the shops we’d missed the day before. It was beyond me how shopping could provide entertainment for two days, but I was the minority vote, and since Tinkie was in charge, my vote didn’t count anyway.
Though the men were responding to texts, they refused to tell us where they were or what they were doing. I could tell it niggled at Tinkie. Millie and Cece were oblivious. The men would never tell us now that they knew we were dying of curiosity. They had gotten our goats with their boys’ club secretive behaviors, and they would not relent. Not until they were good and ready.
We walked the sidewalks gazing at expertly decorated storefronts that could have won awards back in the day when awards were given for such things. When I was about ten years old, my mother had taken me to Memphis to see the window dressings at the big department stores. It wasn’t Fifth Avenue, but it was better for me, because it was within a close drive of home. I had fallen in love with the way the best window dressers could tell an entire story with a couple of mannequins, clothes, and a few props.
At Catfish Alley, where a wonderful mural depicted the African American history of the town, we heard the stories of how local vendors would catch catfish in the river and fry them up in the parking lots near the alley, and how the delicious smell of the frying fish wafted down the alley, drawing merchants and shoppers for a plate lunch of fish, slaw, and
