IN FOR A PENNY (The Granny Series) (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

With the Fourth of July behind them, and no one the wiser that Lillian had missed the parade, Maggie only wished for one thing. To know what the heck was going on with Lillian. Her emotions were still reeling over Lil’s betrayal, so she asked Sera to drive on the ninety-minute trip to the prison camp again this morning. Finally, today she’d get answers. 

Maggie barely paid attention while Sera chatted with the guard. The parking lot at Walter Stiles Prison Camp was near empty because visiting hours didn’t start until 1:00 p.m. and it was only 11:30 a.m.

What in the world was she going to do with herself until then? Maybe it was long enough that she could decide if she was more angry than hurt about this whole situation before she saw Lil.

“Maybe we should’ve stopped for lunch,” Maggie said. Then again, she’d felt guilty about every bite she’d put in her mouth since she found out Lil was in prison. Whatever they served in there, it couldn’t hold a candle to Maggie’s biscuits and white sausage gravy.

“We could find someplace to eat. I’m sure that nice man at the gate would help us,” Sera said.

“Forget it,” Maggie said. “I can’t eat anyway.”

“If you change your mind, I have some snacks. Waiting here is fine by me. I need to stretch after the drive.” Sera hunched at the shoulders and duck-walked from the driver’s seat to the back of the bus.

She stretched out in the middle of the floor and pointed her toes. The heavy breaths she was sucking in and blowing out sounded a little like someone on life support.

Maggie cranked down the window to get some fresh air and propped her elbow on the door. The heat and the funky smell permeating Sera’s van were making her nauseous. That scent had to be the marijuana. Medicinal or otherwise, it wasn’t pleasant.

Was it possible to get a contact high from residue left in the carpeted ceiling?

After doing a whole routine of VW van-modified yoga and a meditation session, Sera finally crawled back into the driver’s seat and handed Maggie a little baggy of what looked like bark.

“What’s this?”

“Anise and pumpkin seed granola. Go on. Try it. It’s good for you.”

Good for you
was the kiss of death to a snack as far as Maggie was concerned. But she glanced over at Sera, in her flowing skirt and body-hugging top.
If there’s a hope or prayer of me ever having a body half that amazing, it won’t kill me to try it.

Maggie poured some into her palm,
then tossed it back like a shot of Gentleman Jack. “Blerg!” Half of it came spewing back out just as fast as it had gone in.

“What?” Sera leaned back trying to escape the sputtering spray of seeds.

Maggie grabbed her water bottle and guzzled to clear the nasty licorice residue from her throat and tongue. She popped open the glove box in a frantic search for relief. All she found was a small piece of cardboard. She tore it in half and scraped it down her tongue.

“What are you doing?”

“Clllng my thung.”

“Quit being so dramatic.
It’s no worse than that marshmallow-filled cereal you have hidden in the back of the pantry.”

Maggie rinsed out her mouth again, opened the door and spat. “Way, way worse.” She capped the water bottle. “If that was all I had to snack on, I’d never snack again.”

“It might be an acquired taste.”

“No, Sera. Scotch is an acquired taste. That is like eating gardening supplies. No, thank you.” Maggie looked toward the building,
then grabbed her purse. “People are already lining up to get in. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Can’t I come with you?”

“Umm…if you want.” Let the prison people be the ones to tell Sera that Lil hadn’t put her on the visitor’s list.

Once in line, it took them a good fifteen minutes to make it to the staff member checking IDs.

Maggie handed over her driver’s license. “Margaret Rawls here to see Lillian Summer Fairview.”

“You’re on the list. Do you have anything on your person that would threaten the security of this institution?”

Not unless they counted heartburn from bad granola a security threat. “No, ma’am.”

“You’re clear.”

“We’re together.” Maggie nodded toward Sera.

“Lillian Fairview doesn’t have anyone else on her visitor list.”

Even though she expected this, Maggie’s heart squeezed.
Poor Sera
.

Sera’s back went stiff. “I’m Mrs. Fairview’s Minister of Record.”

Maggie practically got whiplash as she spun around and gawked at Sera.
Her what?

The guard checked another list and looked Sera up and down. “You’re Reverend Marcus? If so I need your ID—”

Sera quickly laid a palm on the guard’s shoulder. “Lamb of God, how long has it been since you prayed? I feel the sin invading your body. Your every thought. Let us pray together.” She jerked her head toward Maggie.

Maggie lowered hers along with the guard, but watched Sera from the corner of her eye.

Sera’s voice was smooth and comforting. “Father, we ask you this day for wisdom and the courage to do what’s right.” She scooted around the check-in table. “Let this woman no longer walk in sin, but rise up into the sunshine of compassion and love. Amen.”

“Amen,” Maggie murmured and tailgated Sera into the visiting room. They sat at a small round table and Maggie leaned toward Sera. “What was all that?”

“I used to really be into one of those crime shows. Guess it paid off.”

This Serendipity Johnson was smarter than she looked.

“Nice furniture,” Sera commented. “Sure is decked out for jail. Who needs a television that big? It’s one of those hi-def jobs too. I’m not even sure it would fit in the back of my van.”

Maggie hadn’t even noticed. All she was able to absorb was that she was sitting in a federal prison waiting for her best friend. In all her years, it was the last place she’d ever expected to be.

A tiny colorless woman walked through the doorway, smiled at Maggie and waved her fingers in her direction. Maggie glanced behind her, looking for the woman’s visitors, but no one was there. She turned back and gasped.
Lillian?

In khaki from head to toe, Lillian could’ve disappeared like a soldier wearing camo in the desert. Not a flattering look. Lord, if this was what she looked like in just a week, what would happen to her if she had to stay here for long?

Lillian sat down at the table next to Maggie and across from Sera. “How’ve y’all been?”

“That’s where you’re going to start?” She hadn’t meant to snap at her right off the bat, but really?
How’ve we been?
“Lillian, what in the world is going on? What have you gotten yourself into? What have you gotten
me
into?”

“Now, calm down.”

“We’re best friends.” Maggie felt her lips tremble. “I want to know what happened.”

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you that last day, but you were so busy and—”

“Don’t you dare lay this at my feet. I was busy that day, but you had every opportunity in the world before that. How long have you known?”

“A while.
A long while, but the final date was just set last month.” Lillian leaned over and laid her hand on Maggie’s shoulder. The guard gave her the evil eye, and she dropped it again. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry I left you with such a mess, but I just need you to look out for Summer Haven while I’m here. I don’t expect—no, I don’t want—you to waste hours every weekend coming here to visit me. Please spend that time taking care of my home.”

“I’m supposed to just babysit Summer Haven and yet you haven’t even explained how you landed here, the worst place I could ever imagine.”

“Might not be as bad as being checked into Dogwood Ridge Assisted Living. That tired old place doesn’t have near the amenities. Nash Talley had a fundraiser in the Summer House gazebo to raise money for a gigantic television and a piano for the community room when he put his daddy in there. Trust me, neither of those are as high quality as the ones here at Walter Stiles Prison Camp.”

“Lillian, you’re worrying me. If you’re trying to convince yourself this isn’t so bad, you just back up the bus. And before you do that, I want to know how the heck you landed in this godforsaken place.”

“It all started so innocently. When Harlan died and I realized he’d squandered nearly every last cent we had, I had to do something. I needed to bury him the way folks would expect, so we held off just a little while on the paperwork to get a few extra Social Security checks—”

“
We
?” Maggie asked. “We who?”

Sera elbowed Maggie, bowed her head and said, “And the good Lord sayeth, be careful. The
man is listening.” Then she flashed her eyes wide and acted out the charades versions of the-walls-have-ears and zip-your-lip-and-throw-away-the-key.

Maggie inhaled. “Oh, she could be right.”

Lillian glanced at another table where a forty-something woman was holding court with a couple of men.

“Nash—” Lillian paused, “—ville helped me.”

Maggie’s mouth opened, closed and finally formed words. “Nash-ville. That place that’s to
die
for?”

“Right.
That one.”

“Lord
love a duck, Lil.” She’d pulled an innocent man into her scheme. “What were you thinking?”

“I never meant to do anything that would hurt anyone. I just wanted to bury my husband.”

“Should have put him in one of those heavy-duty contractor bags,” Maggie muttered under her breath.

“Don’t think I didn’t consider it,” Lil said. “But I wanted to keep up appearances. I was so embarrassed. And hurt.
And broke.”

“And so you went to Nash-ville to bury him?”

“That was the only place I could think of.”

“But those Nash-ville funerals are pretty cheap. You know with the pine boxes and all. I wouldn’t think your Uncle
Sa—” Sera cleared her throat and Maggie said, “—Sal would care much one way or another where Harlan was buried.”

“Apparently, there were some extra expenses I didn’t anticipate.”

“Just how expensive was this funeral?”

“Somewhere in the $12,000 range.”

“That’s not so bad,” Maggie said.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure how that twelve thousand turned into nearly eight times that in just five years, but that’s what the government says I owe them once I get out of here.”

Maggie sputtered and coughed. “Nash-ville took you for a ride, Lil.”

“What do you mean?”

“She means,” Sera said, “something is rotten in the state of Nash-ville.”

“Oh, please. Nash-ville is a lovely young…place. Stop trying to pretend I’m not guilty. I did break the law. Summers always pay their debts. You know what they say…you do the crime, you do the time.”

Lillian sat next to Dixie in the dining facility with her head down and her focus on her plate of what the dining staff called chicken-fried steak.

Maybe, just maybe, Big Martha had forgotten about little ole Lillian Fairview. After all, she hadn’t summoned Lil back to her cottage, nor had she demanded a show of prison fealty.

Lillian picked at the green peas on her tray. They were so mushy, the only way they were fresh was fresh from the can.

“Shit,” Dixie hissed from beside her.

Lord, this girl needed a language makeover. “Dixie, if you don’t stop talking that way, you’ll never—” Lillian glanced up to see Big Martha striding toward their table. “Shit.”

“I
shoulda known better than to poke at Janisse the other day,” Dixie said. “Big Martha don’t like anyone who threatens her authority. You even look like you’re gonna be more popular and powerful than her? Wham! There you go.”

And by the way Big Martha was bearing down on them, it was obvious she expected Lillian’s vote in the
Most Likely to Succeed in Prison Camp race. Her uniform—as always—was neat and pressed, but her face was just as starched. “Well, Miss High and Mighty, it sure looks like you’ve made your choice.”

Lillian’s back went rigid at the sneering tone. “Martha, I’m simply enjoying lunch.” She gestured to the bench across from her. “Feel free to join us.”

Dixie shot her an
are-you-outta-your-gourd
look.

“I don’t dine with losers,” Martha said.

Lillian poked at her food again. If this was dining, she’d hate to see plain old eating. “Suit yourself.”

“So this is it? I sure thought you were smarter than that.” She turned to Dixie. “You don’t want to make her my enemy, you hear me?”

Dixie flicked a hand toward Lil. “For Jesus sake, Big Martha. Lil is a hundred years old if she’s a day.”