Per Sheldon’s request, the members of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society had gathered at June’s house instead of the bookshop. Sheldon was in the kitchen, preparing a celebratory dinner. He’d told the women to stay in the living room under penalty of death.
“Good Lord, I would have run out of there like my hair was on fire!” June cried.
Estella put a hand to her head. “Please don’t use ‘hair’ and ‘fire’ in the same sentence. Mrs. Carver fell asleep under my dryer yesterday, and by the time I noticed, she smelled like something you’d scrape off the bottom of Hester’s oven.”
“Are you implying that my oven smells like burnt hair?” Hester asked, wrinkling her nose in revulsion. “Um, not only do I always receive an A grade from the health department, but I was also told by the inspector that I have the cleanest nooks and crannies in the county!”
While Estella tried to hide her mirth behind her wineglass, June shot Hester a cheeky grin and said, “Settle down, Miss English Muffin. If we want to eat before midnight, we need to let Nora finish.”
“I’d rather listen to your banter, but that was pretty much the end of the story,” said Nora. “The sheriff came up behind Beck, forced him to drop the cloth, and read him his rights. Then Jed showed up and walked me home. And since I already told you about our donut date, you’re now officially caught up.”
Estella pointed at Hester. “You’re at bat next. Step up to the plate, girlfriend.”
“If we’re using baseball metaphors, then this is the seventh inning stretch.” Hester jerked her thumb toward the kitchen. “I promised Sheldon that I wouldn’t say a word until we were all at the table together. He said it’s the least I can do after keeping him in the dark about your meeting with Beck.”
“But you were all in the dark,” Nora protested. “The only person he should be mad at is me.”
A crash came from the kitchen. It sounded like an avalanche of pots and pans hitting the floor, and the women exchanged nervous glances.
“See? He’s mad at everyone,” Hester whispered.
Estella saluted Nora with her glass. “But especially you.”
June swatted Estella with a pillow, deliberately mussing her hair, which was immaculately arranged in a high chignon.
“Hey, now! I’m going to Jack’s after this, and I want to look like Queen Elizabeth, not Ms. Frizzle.”
Sheldon poked his head into the room. “Estella, corazón, I haven’t opened a Magic School Bus book in years, but I still have a crush on Ms. Frizzle. Come in here and give me a hand. The rest of you should sit down and get ready for the parade of Cuban dishes!”
Sheldon pressed a button on his smartphone and salsa music danced out of the portable speakers in June’s dining room.
“We begin with mojitos and fried plantains!” he announced.
Estella carried a heavy pitcher garnished with mint leaves into the room. Sheldon was right behind her, balancing a tray of empty glasses in one hand and a platter of sweet fried plantains in the other.
Sheldon pulled out a chair for Estella and said, “No more work for you, Fancy Nancy. I’ve got it from here.”
He hustled back into the kitchen and reappeared with a bowl of avocado salad and a basket of Cuban bread. On his third trip to retrieve food, he danced a salsa, whistling as he swung his hips from side to side.
Nora smiled in relief. If Sheldon was cooking, whistling, and dancing, then he wasn’t that angry.
“Our star attractions for tonight are Arroz con Pollo—that’s rice and chicken for you non-Spanish speakers—and Lechon Asado, the food of the gods. Or, in simple terms, Mojo Marinated Pork.”
“Everything looks and smells beautiful, Sheldon,” Hester said. “This must have taken you all day.”
June gazed at her roommate with pride. “He was already at it when I left for church, and I went to the early service. I invited Dominique to come with me, and she brought her whole family. And her family can sing! Lord, but we had fun. Anyway, when I got back home, the front porch was full of cats. I’ve never heard such yowling and carrying on.”
“They’re my backup singers,” Sheldon explained. “My papa always said that if you sing while you cook, your food will taste like music in people’s mouths.”
Nora picked up her mojito glass. “To our chef, for creating this amazing meal. Not only does he give the best bear hugs and channel Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry in his sweater vests, but he also makes life better for everyone who walks into Miracle Books. Including me. To Sheldon!”