Chapter 47 Georgia
Georgia
The four of us are assembled in our usual circle in our usual seats in the middle of June’s when Tina stands and clears her
throat.
“Ladies, if I may have the pleasure.”
Our chattering quiets, and we turn our eyes to Tina.
We ended up waiting an extra day to meet for Good Hair Days because Junie was so sick after the first chemo treatment. The
poor girl heaved and heaved and dry heaved until she was pale and limp. I waited to cry until she found pockets of sleep,
and I only ever let myself doze, just in case she called out.
I wish I could’ve prepared for this. I would’ve planned like I always do, shopped for groceries, bought her cozier pajamas,
prayed for an ungodly amount of emotional strength. But instead, I’m floundering in the crisis all the while trying to digest
the original news itself.
Tina claps her hands and squeals, “Happy Monday, y’all—today is pie planning day!” She lifts the three-ring binder on her lap and dances it around in front of us. It’s professionally labeled Tina’s Pies: County Fair.
I’d forgotten, given how Junie just turned my world upside down. “I’ve been looking forward to it,” I lie.
I could redirect; I could tell Tina there’s a more pressing issue to discuss. But these pies have her breaking out of her
dusty chrysalis into a sassy Tina butterfly, and I couldn’t forgive myself if I cut that short. There’s no harm in letting
her bask in the joy of her personal success for a little while longer. She’s even come prepared with a handout. Maybe now
it makes a little more sense why Junie waited so long to tell.
“Alright.” Tina hops up and passes out a bullet point sheet. “At the top is the budget. It’ll cost approximately four hundred
dollars for supplies—I negotiated with the coffee shop’s supplier—and I’ll pay that up front. We’ll bake seventy-five pies.
At five dollars a slice, we could make over two thousand dollars on this. There are also prizes to be won, cash prizes. I
know it’s a lot of work . . .”
“We’re up for it,” Cece says. “And we’ll recruit extra help.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Tina grins. “I’ll nail down a schedule closer to bake day, but first we need a baking
location and volunteers.”
“Well, for volunteers, obviously all of us,” Cece says. When her eyes land on Junie, she grins and says, “If Junie Bug can
lay off the booze long enough to show up not looking seasick.”
“Hilarious,” Junie says.
I’m impressed by her acting skills; if I didn’t know otherwise, I wouldn’t suspect a thing. Instead, my mind is thinking about
nothing but her and her illness, the schedule for treatment, how much sicker she’ll get. I can’t protect her. I bite the inside of my mouth to stop the tears that well in the corners of my eyes.
“Yes, all four of us,” I confirm. “I’m sure Eddie would help. And Dad—honestly, I think it might be time to open the circle
to him.”
“But he’s not a Louise woman,” Cece says gently. I wonder for a moment if she feels the same as me: afraid that adjusting this precious circle runs too high a risk of breaking it. But what she doesn’t know is that we’ll need all the backup we can get for our next big challenge.
“I know,” I say. “I guess—”
“We’re not really in a position to be picky,” Tina says. “So we have six of us—approximately. I wonder if I could get Sam
to help.”
“Sam?” Junie and I say at the same time.
“Yeah, who the heck is Sam?” Cece asks.
Tina shrugs. “He’s the food supplier for the coffee shop, the one I worked out the deal with for the pie supplies. With all
the conversations we’ve been having about my order, we’ve become friends. He’s a sweetheart and has been beyond helpful. Just
a quality guy—not to mention he cut me a pretty good discount.”
“Don’t you say he cut you a discount.” Junie smirks like she’s wishing trouble on herself.
“Oh, stop!” Tina demands. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure sounds like he might want it to be like that,” Cece adds.
“I can’t help but agree,” I say. “And for the sake of the cause, it would be reckless not to at least invite this Sam to baking
day.”
Tina pauses—like she even has to think about it. “Ok. Alright, I’ll ask. The more hands the better.” She looks down and pages
through her binder, but the glow that rises on the apples of her cheeks is unmistakable.
“Last thing on this subject and then my lips are sealed: Please let the record show that Randy was not mentioned once as a
volunteer,” I say.
Tina looks at me for a second like she’s deciding whether to be mad or not. “You’re right,” she says. “Randy is useless.”
Tina lets her hands drop to the binder in her lap. “I’m sick and tired of him, and honestly, I think I’ve decided I want him
out. I just—I just need to find the courage to do it. But I think I’m on my way.”
“We’re here for you,” Junie says. “It’s the right choice.”
“I’ll gladly be on the eviction squad, so just say the word,” Cece adds.
“Thanks . . .” Tina swallows hard and pauses. “But back to pies—what we’re really still in need of is a location to bake.
None of our houses can bake more than two or three pies at once, which will take days. We need a commercial kitchen of some
kind.”
For a while we sit there, thinking in quiet.
“Was this afternoon planned as a dry meeting?” Cece asks. “In my experience we do our best thinking a little sauced up.”
Junie speaks up. “Today is dry—I’ll explain later. But first, I wonder if we could ask the Silvers to lend us the church kitchen?
It’s not quite commercial, but it’s built to cook for a crowd.”
“I like it,” I say. “Because most businesses around here with a kitchen like that will need to be using it themselves.”
“Exactly,” Junie says.
“Would you mind reaching out to Ms. Luanne or any of the other Silvers and let me know?” Tina asks Junie.
“Sure thing,” Junie says.
“Excellent,” Tina replies. “Well, that’s a wrap on pie talk for now. Junie, what was it you wanted to share?”
“Yes,” Junie says. “We’re waiting on—”
Before she can finish her sentence, the front door clatters open and our father walks in.
“Him,” Junie says. “For the next part I need everyone here.”