Free Eat, Drink and Be Wary by Tamar Myers Page A

B and B," I may have snapped. "This is an inn with atmosphere."
     
     
And as far as I was concerned - due to the atmosphere - our conversation was over.
     
     
There is no rest for the wicked, Mama always said. If that maxim applies only to the wicked, then I make Saddam Hussein look like a Goody Two-shoes. No sooner had I closed my eyes again than the doorbell rang. One of these days I'm going to drive into Pittsburgh and select a doorbell with a pleasant chime - perhaps the opening bar from "The Sound of Music." My current bell squeals like a terrified pig. Ned Beatty once said it gave him goose bumps.
     
     
When I saw that I was Lodema Schrock standing there, her pocketbook clutched in front of her in both gloved hands, I almost didn't open the door. But I am ever the optimist, and the woman did owe me five dollars she'd borrowed form me at a church bazaar the year before.
     
     
"Yes?" I said guardedly.
     
     
"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"
     
     
I thought about it. Lodema is a pillar of Beechy Grove Mennonite Church. She is president of Mennonite Ladies' Sewing Circle, leader of the Wednesday Women's Bible Study, church organist, Sunday school teacher to the senior high class, adviser to the Mennonite Youth Group, plus she's married to the pastor.

 
     
None of this has stopped Lodema from being the town's biggest gossip. To make matters worse, she has a razor-sharp tongue, which she wields like a scythe in a wheat field, and unfortunately I was experiencing a bumper crop that year.
     
     
"Invite you in?" I echoed, stalling for time. "Well, you see, we're just about to eat lunch."
     
     
"I haven't eaten my lunch yet."
     
     
"You haven't? Oh, well, then I won't be keeping you." I started to close the door.
     
     
Lodema has disgustingly small feet, and she's remarkably quick with them. She also wears sensible shoes that can hold up to a good slamming.
     
     
"Magdalena, I need to talk to you, and I need to talk to you now."
     
     
I wracked my brain for sins past, present, and future. In all honesty, all I could come up with was the fact that I had skipped church the day before and pawned by Sunday school class - the junior high - on Annie Blough. Although Annie is a sweet person, she has the intelligence of a hitching post, and half the personality. Whenever she substitutes for me, the kids tend to get out of hand. The last time I was absent the girls locked themselves in the bathroom and smoked a cigarette, and the boys stuffed X-rated pictures in the tract box.
     
     
"Annie promised she'd stay on top of things!" I wailed.
     
     
"Your Sunday school class in only part of it, Magdalena."
     
     
I prayed for wisdom and patience. There's nothing quite as frightening as a pacifist pastor's wife on the warpath.
     
     
"Make it quick, dear. Like I said, it's almost lunch."
     
     
I made no move to let her in, and if I was letting enough warm air out of my house to turn the front yard into a tropical jungle, so be it. Lodema has made no secret of the fact that she thinks the PennDutch should be renamed The Den of Iniquity. Of course that doesn't stop her from gawking at my celebrity guests whenever she gets the chance.
     
     
"If I catch my death of cold out here, at least I'm going to heaven," she said.
     
     
"Bon voyage, dear."
     
     
"What? Magdalena, I suppose you think that's one of your funny worldly jokes?"
     
     
I tugged harder on the door. Even the best shoes have their limits.
     
     
"Well, it wasn't funny, you know that? In fact, that's why I'm here."
     
     
"My salvation is assured," I said. I know that's not a popular position with some folks, but I firmly believe that.
     
     
She fumbled with her purse, extracted a clump of tissues, and dabbed at her reddening nose. "I'm not talking about your salvation per se. That's between you and the Lord. I'm talking about how you flaunt your worldly ways in front of the rest of us. The stumbling blocks you set in our paths, so to