The Sheriff. Jan Hudson
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but I’m kicking butt these days.” She grinned. “Let’s do some brainstorming.”
For the next hour or so, they came up with every conceivable crackpot scheme they could think of, laughing wildly as they considered every option from turning the Tico Taco into a cathouse with Mary Beth as madam to refurbishing The Twilight Inn as a home for aging aerobics instructors or renting it out as a haunted house on Halloween.
Actually, some of their ideas weren’t half-bad.
“You know,” Dixie said, “Naconiche really does need a health club—or at least a place where people could take some exercise classes.”
“I don’t think the town could support a health club,” Ellen said. “Remember when JoNell Davis tried it several years ago? All that equipment—and she lost her shirt. But really, I’ll bet there would be some interest in a few classes. Maybe aerobics for some of us and stretching classes for seniors. Dr. Kelly is always trying to get my mom to do some stretching for her arthritis.”
“Who’s Dr. Kelly?” Mary Beth asked, reaching for another chocolate-chip cookie. “I don’t remember him.”
“Her. Dr. Kelly Martin. She came here a couple of years ago to take over Dr. Bridges’s practice when he retired. She’s about our age. I really like her.”
They batted around several other plans, trying to think of ways to use Mary Beth’s talents and the facilities available.
That was how the germ of an idea for The Twilight Tearoom was born. Ellen and Dixie were thrilled to hear that Mary Beth had been a member of the Junior League and had worked in its tearoom before she and Brad had split.
“I had to drop out after the divorce,” Mary Beth told them. “I couldn’t afford to keep up with my more affluent friends.” She didn’t mention that she was too humiliated to show her face, nor did she mention that Brad was a criminal, locked up in prison. “But I did learn how to pour tea and which fork goes where and how to make chicken crepes to die for. I learned to make the crepes and several other fancy dishes when a group of us took lessons from a French chef. And we used to serve as hostesses when some of the local charity events sponsored luncheons at the league building.”
“I can’t believe it,” Ellen said. “This is perfect. The garden club is looking for a place to have their big luncheon, and I heard Annie Schultz say that the hospital auxiliary needs somewhere, too. The VFW hall just doesn’t have much ambience. Why couldn’t they meet here?”
Mary Beth glanced around at the garish walls, the scarred tables and the tattered piñatas. “Here? You’ve got to be kidding. This place is a far cry from the Junior League Tearoom. I’ll bet it doesn’t have as much ambience as the VFW hall.”
“A coat of paint would do wonders,” Dixie said.
“True,” Ellen agreed. “Take all the Mexican stuff down and add some pretty tablecloths and flowers. The place has some possibilities. And if you opened it just for lunch or for special parties, you’d still have time to spend with Katy. Why, she’ll be in kindergarten in the fall, and you could teach some aerobics here in the mornings. Just move the tables aside. How about it, Puddin’?”
Mary Beth shrugged. “I’ll have to give it some thought, but it has some possibilities. I might even be able to earn enough to slowly restore the motel. I could either run it or sell it.”
“Good idea,” Ellen said. “For sure nobody’s going to buy it as it is.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “Gotta run. I have a closing in a few minutes. We’ll chew all this around more later.”
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