Part 10 (1/2)
out.” Heaving his ma.s.sive frame out of the booth, he continued, ”I'll jes' have me a look-see, and git back to ya . . . y'all gonna be right heah?”
Emma and Sam looked at each other-where else could they go?
”Fine,” Emma said. ”And I can pay you by cash or traveler's check, if you prefer it to a credit card,” she added.
”That'd be jes' fine, ma'am,” Sonny said, am- bling toward the door. He turned back to them and bucked his head toward the floor shyly.
”That's mighty purty stuff you'uns got on,” he added, then went through the door.
”Told you,” Sam said with her chin up. She headed for the jukebox, which featured mostly country artists. The only ones Sam knew were Elvis Presley and Garth Brooks, so that's what she played.
Emma and Sam slid into a booth to the strains of ”Heartbreak Hotel.” Sam let her foot dangle off the edge of the seat and admired her newly dry cowboy boots.
”I would have had a coronary if these boots got ruined,” Sam said.
”It's amazing that you found another pair,”
Emma said, unsuccessfully attempting to lengthen her tiny mini skirt. ”They're almost exactly like the ones that got wrecked when we were lost at sea.”
”I know,” Sam agreed. ”I felt positively super- st.i.tious until I had them back on my feet.” She wriggled her toes blissfully.
”'Scuse me, but no legs up on the upholstery,”
came a female voice so deep and raspy that it sounded as if the speaker were in the bottom of a well.
Sam and Emma looked up at a female version of Sonny. She^ was six feet tall, well over two hundred solid pounds, with steel-gray hair and arms the size of tree trunks. The woman's mouth was wrapped around a filterless cigarette.
”I'm Ma,” the voice boomed. Ma looked over their outfits with obvious disdain. ”Will y'all be orderin'?”
”Hot chocolate?” Sam asked.
”I'll have tea,” Emma added meekly, again attempting to adjust her skirt.
”Hmph,” was Ma's reply as she turned away.
”I'm changing,” Emma hissed as she began to slide out of the booth. ”This outfit is tacky.”
”Well, thank you very much, Miss Heiress,”
Sam said in a hurt voice. ”That happens to be one of my favorite outfits.”
”I'm sorry, Sam,” Emma said. ”I didn't mean anything by it. I mean-”
”Look, it's nothing to me if you don't want to wear it,” Sam said, but Emma could tell how hurt she really was.
”I'll . . . I'll keep it on,” Emma said, sliding back into the booth. ”Probably it's just that I'm not used to it, right?”
Ma sat the tea and hot chocolate down on the table before Sam could answer Emma.
”Kitchen opens in five minutes,” came Ma's huge, gravelly voice. ”Catfish platter comes with your catfish, your homefries, and your slaw.
Catfish dinner includes that plus your choice of two from your green beans, your white beans, your turnip greens, and your hush puppies. Will you ladies be wantin' to order?”
Emma wasn't too sure she liked the spin that Ma put on the word ladies, but figured it might just be her imagination. Sam hadn't eyen noticed.
She was too busy reveling in the joys of a down- home catfish dinner.
”I'll have the dinner,” Sam said promptly, ”with green beans and extra hush puppies.”
”Uh, the same,” Emma said with what she hoped was a ladylike smile at Ma.
”Hmph,” was Ma's reply as she trundled away toward the kitchen.
”Wow, a catfish dinner!” Sam exclaimed hap- piiy- ”I believe my father uses catfish as bait,”
Emma said, turning a little green.
”I wonder what a hush puppy is,” Sam continued, ignoring Emma's comment.
Emma gulped. ”I'm just hoping it doesn't involve an actual canine.”
”Culinary adventure is a wonderful thing,”
Sam opined.
The door opened, and the first of the dinner customers started to filter into the restaurant.
”See?” Sam pointed out. ”All the locals can't be wrong about the place to eat!”
As the restaurant filled up the girls noticed that several people had musical instruments with them, which they laid carefully on a chair or leaned against a wall.
”Catfish,” Ma announced unceremoniously as she set the overloaded plates of food in front of them.
”Dig in!” Sam cried, and cut into the golden breaded fish.
Emma watched Sam with a look of trepidation on her face.
”What am I, the royal taster?” Sam asked around the food in her mouth. ”Like if I die, you'll know not to chow down?”
Emma picked up her fork, delicately speared a piece of fish, and put it into her mouth.
”It's actually . . . good,” she said finally.
”Two new foods in one day-oh, heart of mine, be still!” Sam laughed. She picked up a small fried blob. ”By process of elimination, this must be the ole hush puppy.” She bit into it. ”It's bread. Fried cornbread,” Sam said with disappointment. ”My mother makes fried cornbread.”
”All of this is really very good!” Emma said with her mouth full. ”If you don't mind eating fried, that is.”
”Throw caution to the winds, live danger- ously,” Sam suggested.
They chewed happily for a while. Even Emma finished most of what was on her plate.