Free Sweet Carolina Morning by Susan Schild Page B

“I’m afraid . . .”
    Linny jumped in, determined to preempt his no. “I’m so sorry, but your church isn’t quite what we were looking for.”
    â€œOh?” The minister’s cool eyes were now frosty, arctic. His brows furrowed, and he asked in a patronizing tone, “What is it that you are looking for that we don’t offer?”
    â€œYour church is too”—Linny hadn’t thought it through and scrambled—“too wooden.”
    Kate chimed in, waving her hand in the general direction of the sanctuary. “Way too wooden. Wood, wood, wood.”
    The minister’s mouth opened and closed. “Too wooden?”
    Kate waxed on, warming to her topic. “My sister likes nature, sunshine, vivid hues; think fields of gold, grasshopper greens, saffron rice . . .” She raised her hands, palms up, and smiled serenely. “Linny has just this moment decided on an al fresco wedding.”
    The minister scowled, took off his glasses, and rose. “Well, then, I’ll see you ladies out.” Walking briskly toward the door, he held it open for them.
    In the car, they both kept straight faces while they were in the line of sight of the office windows. Once they’d pulled out of the driveway, they burst into gales of laughter.
    â€œToo wooden. That’s the best I could come up with?” Linny snorted and turned to Kate. “Fields of gold and saffron rice? That was inspired.”
    â€œI know.” Kate giggled. “They’re paint colors from an HGTV show I watched last night.”
    â€œToo bad we didn’t get to the part where I told him it would be my third marriage,” Linny said, laughing harder now.
    Kate stopped chuckling, her eyes wide. “Laughing makes me leak.” But she caught Linny’s eyes and cracked up again. “Don’t you ever tell anyone this, but I’m wearing a lady’s Depend.”
    They made a pit stop at Bojangles so Kate could “freshen up,” and while Linny waited, she scrolled through the addresses of the other venues.
    â€œBetter,” her sister said primly as she climbed back in the car. “Mama should be calling any minute. . . .” Interrupted by the ringing of the phone, she grinned at Linny and picked up and pushed a button. “Hey, Mama. Linny’s right here and you’re on speaker. How are you?”
    â€œBusy as hen’s teeth.”
    Linny raised a brow at Kate and they both smiled at Dottie’s mixed-up idiom.
    Her mother continued in the too-fast cadence she used because she worried about long distance charges. “The girls and I treated ourselves and got our hair and makeup done. The hairstylist who worked on me is named Cinder—that’s short for Cinderella—and she used to work on hair for the Rockettes. Can you believe that? So Cinder cut my hair in a way she says is kicky.” Dottie clarified, “Kicky is supposed to be good. And she adjusted the color because she said my hair was too pink! Can you believe that?”
    Linny rolled her eyes at her sister. They’d only told Dottie a hundred times that her hair was too pink.
    â€œGive Curtis a big smooch and tell him he’s my precious boy. I miss him so much.” She blew out a sad sigh, but her voice brightened as she went on. “But we’re having a grand time. Our excursion leaves in a minute. We’re going to see the stingrays from inside a baby submarine. After, Ruby wanted us to go touring around George Town on one of those two-wheeled Segways, but Dessie and I talked her into the Trolley Roger instead.”
    â€œGood!” Linny marveled at how worldly her country mouse mother sounded. “What else?”
    â€œThe food’s been so tasty, and the people we’ve met have been real nice.” In a low voice, she said, “At prayer meeting, Dessie met a widowed junkman who wears fedoras and white shoes.” Her voice