Rogues & Rascals in Goose Pimple Junction (Goose Pimple Junction Mysteries Book 4) Read Free Page A

right amount of makeup. And finally, the dress. She was twirling in front of her full-length mirror when her seventeen-year-old son Pickle came into the room.
    “Gosh, Mom. You look real pretty.”
    “Thank you, darlin’.” She kissed and patted his cheek. “Now, hon, I ordered a pizza for y’all, and you have the movie. You make sure your brother takes a bath and gets in bed at nine, okay?”
    “Yes, ma’am. We already went over all this, Mama.”
    “Well, I know, darlin’, but it’s my job to worry over my babies. You wouldn’t deprive me of my God-given right, would you?”
    “Oh, Mama,” Pickle groaned. She kissed him again and rubbed the lipstick off his cheek with her thumb.
    “You really are awful pretty tonight, Mama.”
    After her careful preparations that took all afternoon and her son’s genuine compliments, she was devastated when her husband walked in and didn’t seem to notice her efforts at all.
    She made a drink, handed it to him, and then stood back to give him a full view. Trying outwardly to act casual, she was inwardly crushed.
    Finally, his drink finished, he asked, “So what’s for supper?”
    She pasted on her smile again and said, “I’m taking you out tonight, sugar britches.”
    He frowned. “What about the kids?”
    “They’re staying home and having a pizza.”
    “What’s the occasion? It’s not your birthday or anything is it?”
    “No, silly. I thought it would be nice for just the two of us to go out is all.”
    “Humph. What would be nice is for us to have a Visa bill under three thousand dollars this month,” he grumped.
    She took a deep breath, smiled, and called out, “Pickle, Peanut, we’re going now. Y’all behave.”
    The kids came running to say goodbye, and nine-year-old Peanut said, “Is Pickle really the boss of me while you’re gone?”
    “Yes he is, my little peanut. And you best mind him, or I’ll be on you like ugly on an ape.” Caledonia used a combination of her serious voice and sweet smile that told her children she was serious, but she loved them dearly.

    Dinner at The Silly Goose did not meet Caledonia’s expectations but not because of the restaurant or the food. Every man in the room—except for Phil—was aware of Caledonia Culpepper. He was moody and sullen, using his mouth to down three gin and tonics instead of talking to his wife. And since text messages dinged throughout their dinner, his attention was more on his cell phone than his wife. She tried to ignore it all and made several attempts at conversation. First, she tried discussing the upcoming cotillion at the country club.
    “Caledonia, it’s not a damn cotillion. It’s more like a kegger, for gosh sakes.”
    “Oh foo, every party’s a cotillion to me. You know that.”
    She talked about politics, but Philetus had no opinions on the state of the economy or international affairs, and he did not contribute to the conversation.
    She told him about the question their youngest son had asked that afternoon, “Weren’t Cain and Abel’s wives their sisters?” But Phil had no idea how to answer that, and he was too tired, he said, to think about it now.
    Toward the end of the evening, he did finally take notice of his wife’s appearance. When they’d finished eating, she excused herself to the ladies’ room to powder her nose (which really meant apply her lipstick because her mama had taught her to never be seen in public without her lipstick perfectly applied). When she sashayed back to the table, all male eyes in the restaurant were on her sashay. She noticed her husband look up from his phone to her, and she saw his expression go from a smile to puzzled. He kind of tilted his head, squinting his left eye as he studied her.
    She sat. “What?” She had visions of toilet paper sticking out of her dress or something equally as horrible.
    “Did you go to the barber shop today?” he asked.
    She stared at him for a long moment and then stood and quietly said, “It’s