Murder with Macaroni and Cheese Read Free

reunion.”
    â€œWhy would you do that, Halia? Go. Mingle.” Then she adds under her breath, “Find a husband . . .”
    â€œWhat did you say?” I ask even though I heard her. Momma is forever trying to find me a love life.
    â€œI said for you to go and mingle . . . and if you happen to find a potential romantic interest, so be it.”
    â€œYou don’t ever give up, do you, Momma?”
    She ignores my questions. “Just go for Pete’s sake . . . and think like a lion while you’re there—wait until an eligible man is separated from the herd and then move in for the kill. Stick with the divorced ones. Anyone who’s never been married by the time they reach your age must have something wrong with them.” She notices the look on my face. “Except for you, dear. You’ve just been . . . well . . . busy.”
    â€œNot that it has anything to do with your badgering, Momma, but I may be going to the event after all. Apparently, there was a water main break at the hotel where they planned to have the reunion, and they need a new venue. I just got a phone call about it. One of my old classmates who is on the reunion committee wants to host the event here at Sweet Tea. She’s coming by tomorrow to discuss it.”
    â€œDo you think that’s a good idea, Halia?” Momma asks. “You don’t need perspective suitors knowing you own a restaurant right off the bat. Men can be funny about dating women who are successful in business. Let them get to know you first,” she adds as if my status as a restaurant owner is akin to a case of herpes or a prison record . . . or whatever else you wouldn’t mention on a first date.
    â€œI just agreed to meet with her. I didn’t say I was definitely going to host it here. I’m not keen on shutting this place down for an evening . . . especially on a Saturday night. I think I’ll make a few phone calls instead, and see if I might be able to secure another location. Then I can just cater the reunion. That way I can help out without having to close Sweet Tea for an evening.”
    â€œThat sounds like a good idea,” Momma says. “You can have staff supervise the catering, and then you can go as a guest. We’ll get you a new dress—”
    Wavonne cuts her off. “And maybe we can do somethin’ with that hair of hers,” she says to Momma, and then turns to me. “Let me give you a full makeover, Halia. I’ll do your makeup and loan you a wig . . . one of the good ones with the European hair. I’ll have you lookin’ straight-up pimp in no time.”
    â€œI don’t think ‘straight-up pimp,’ whatever that means, is exactly my style. But thanks all the same, Wavonne.”
    â€œSuit yourself, but that Eddie Bauer/L.L. Bean getup you got goin’ on is not goin’ to get you noticed.”
    â€œI’m on my feet and moving around this restaurant all day. I like to be comfortable, Wavonne.”
    â€œFine. Be comfortable. But you ain’t gonna land no man at your reunion lookin’ all frumpadump.”
    â€œWhatever, Wavonne. My ‘frumpadump’ self has work to do, and so do you.” I turn to Momma. “And isn’t it time for you to get on out of here?”
    Momma looks at her watch. “Why, yes. It really is. I’ve got to run, girls,” she says to Wavonne and me before focusing her eyes on just me. “I do hope you attend the reunion, Halia. And remember what I said: you’re the lion, and the single men are the gazelles. As soon as one lags behind—”
    My back is already turned to her as I cut her off on my way to my office to make some calls and see about finding a venue for the reunion. “I know, Momma: ‘Move in for the kill.’ ”

CHAPTER 2
    â€œW avonne! If I catch you doing that one more time . . .” I let my voice trail off as we both know whatever I say is no