Vicky smiled and then chuckled. “And next week the other church has Bible school. Crazy, isn’t it? They coordinate so all the kids in the community can go to both, but they have to have separate buildings for Sunday morning worship.”
“Tarts and chocolate cake.” Nettie started for the door.
Vicky frowned. “What?”
“Some folks like tarts. Others like chocolate cake. They’ll argue which one is best until the cows come home. Same with religion. Some folks like it served up one way, others like it another, but when it’s all said and done, it’s just dessert.”
“Amen!” Vicky said.
She waited until she heard Nettie’s bedroom door shut and then turned the latch to lock her door. “It’s for Emily’s peace of mind,” she told herself as she picked up the book she’d been reading.
The diner did not have a break room for the staff like the steak house in Amarillo. When the morning rush was over, Nettie came from the kitchen, put a platter of pancakes on the counter, and sat down on one of the stools. Vicky brought out three plates of bacon and eggs along with a small side of sausage gravy and biscuits for each of them. Jancy poured three cups of coffee.
“I’m goin’ to gain fifty pounds eatin’ like this.” Jancy slung a leg over the stool and got comfortable.
“Skinny as you are, it wouldn’t hurt.” Nettie poured warmed maple syrup over the stack of pancakes. “You’ve mentioned Louisiana a couple of times. Did y’all go there when you left here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Daddy had a brother down there, but we only got to stay three months. I do have one blood relative left in those parts, though. A girl cousin that I really liked. We stayed in touch over the years. That’s where I’ll be going when I leave here.” She took a bite of food. “These are some really good biscuits.”
“Homemade, not frozen,” Nettie said.
“Will you teach me how to make them or is the recipe as secret as the tarts?”
“Nope, it’s my mama’s biscuit recipe and I don’t mind sharing it,” Nettie said.
Woody arrived and went to the coffee machine to pour a cup. He sat down, back to the counter, and crossed one leg over the other. “Sorry I’m late again. I swear to God, I’m busier now that I retired than I ever was as a workin’ man. I brought news. That fancy man who was in here yesterday, Carlton something or other, went down to Leonard’s convenience store and offered him a fortune for his store and the thirty acres he’s got down south of town. He said that he’d already made a deal with Vicky and they’d be signin’ a contract here in a couple of days. I can’t believe that you are sellin’ out, Vicky. This here is your home place. Why, you was raised in that house back there—” He paused to take a breath.
Vicky laid a hand on Woody’s thin arm. “Honey, I’m not sellin’ to anyone.”
“What did Leonard tell him?” Nettie asked.
“That he could take his offer and shove it where the sun don’t shine. I’m spreadin’ the news that we’re havin’ a town meetin’ at the fire hall tonight at eight o’clock. We got to stand together or before long there won’t be a Pick, Texas. They’ll change the name to something like Pecan Grove or whatever the hell they name their estates.”
“Estates?” Vicky asked.
“Leonard did some askin’ around after he left and found out he’s one of them fellers who buys up land and puts in them fancy houses so the folks in places like Tyler can get out of the bigger cities to raise their kids,” Woody said.
“He’s wantin’ to turn Pick into a bedroom community?” Nettie frowned.
Vicky removed her hand and went back to eating. “Sounds to me like he’s tryin’ to cause trouble and get rumors started.”
Nettie nodded. “Divide and conquer. You are right, Woody. We need a town meeting so we all know where we’re standing.”
Woody slapped the top of the counter. “Crazy fool is up to no good, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t change Pick to Carlton.”
Nettie’s head bobbed up and down again. “Or maybe just Estates, Texas, if that’s the name of the game he’s playin’. They’ll try to smother us right out of existence. We’ll close up a little early to be there. We’ll sure tell everyone that comes in today about it, too.”
“They might not even rename the place or get a post office for it. They could just get their mail out of Frankston on a rural route delivery,” Jancy said.