Free Shop Talk by Carolyn Haines

were going to reject her before they read her work. They weren’t going to give her a chance.
    “Now would be better. I’m not hungry, and Coco never eats.” Mona stood. “Let’s go.”
    “Not eat?” Lucille was truly shocked.
    “Coco doesn’t eat. She drinks water and counts my calories.” Mona leaned toward Lucille, who sat back in her chair. “Some of us derive satisfaction from excess, others from deprivation. Guess which of us has more fun?”
    “I really have to get back to work after lunch,” Lucille managed in a weak voice. “I work at Coastal Bank, and they’re already threatening to fire me because I get so caught up with my writing that I sometimes stay up all night and forget to go to work. I can’t be late from lunch.”
    Mona looked past Lucille to the small sailboats that braved the crisp April day. Their bright sails looked like an advertisement for cigarettes or medical insurance. Happy Americans using their leisure time to self-destruct or to enjoy the last, few, carefree minutes of health before disaster struck.
    “Are you, uh, married?” Lucille asked. “I can see why a man might find you intimidating, with all that leather. I mean you’re hard looking, but it’s attractive. On you.” Lucille popped a cracker into her mouth. A long silence fell over the table, and in it she could hear her teeth grinding the cracker into dust.
    Mona sat back in her chair in disbelief. Had Lucille Hare actually called her hard looking? And without batting an eye as she chewed a cracker like a ruminating bovine.
    “Wherever did you get that suit?” Coco asked, trying to break the tension.
    “Oh, I made it.” Lucille looked down her chest and then brushed a few cracker crumbs away. “My home economics teacher thought I should become a home ec teacher. She said I could put my creative talents to work sewing and teaching.” Lucille blinked a sudden wet sheen from her eyes. “She never believed I could make it as a writer. No one did,” she finished softly. She crumbled the cracker wrapper in her hand and then tossed it onto the unused place setting with the sodden napkin.
    “I’d really rather wear clothes like Ms. d’la Quirt,” Lucille gave Mona a smile, “but I’m much too feminine. If my beaus saw me in an outfit like that, why they’d just grab their crotches and run.” Lucille chuckled.
“All
of my men view me as a lady.”
    Mona stood up, knocking her chair over behind her.
    “Now, Mona.” Coco flattened herself against the plate glass window as she simultaneously grabbed Mona’s elbow and righted her chair. “Let’s see the meeting place, Mona.” She tugged once, gently, pulling Mona back down into her chair. “If we don’t find a place, WOMB will have to disband. And you’re so close to finishing your manuscript.”
    Lucille checked her watch. There was no way she could be back at the bank on time. She’d have to think of a good excuse. Maybe something about her car. That usually worked, but she’d used it a lot lately. Maybe a wreck. Or an injury. She kept an ace bandage in the back seat for emergency excuses. She could wrap her ankle and pretend she’d sprained it on a curb. That was the best thing to do.
    With that settled, she picked up the menu. She always thought better on a full stomach. “The seafood here is delicious, and everyone knows that fish is brain food.” She nodded at Coco. “My Uncle Peter Hare used to tell me I’d be the smartest girl in the world because I loved fish so much. Uncle Peter raised hogs, and he never could eat pork. He said if you knew what a hog ate, you wouldn’t eat one either. He was always talking about killing his wife, Doris, and feeding her to the hogs. He said they’d eat her up, bones and all. But oddly enough it was Uncle Peter who disappeared. After he divorced Doris, he took to living in his truck and one day he just up and drove off. Mama said if we really wanted to find him we could just follow the stench, because