Read Dining with Joy for Free Online Page B

peanut butter chips. Makes my mouth buzz just talking about it.”
    â€œWhy don’t you make it, then?”
    â€œI reckon I could, but I know me. I’ll buy the banana and fixings, get busy, forget about it, and by the time I get back round to it, the bananas will be spoiled. Besides, I don’t even know where Chick hid all his recipes. He was funny about letting people see them. Kept them close to the chest.”
    â€œHe was an up-and-coming cooking-show chef, Mama. Most of the ones I know keep their best ideas to themselves.”
    The air shifted and the twilight glow moved behind the trees. A choir of crickets sang from the creek bank. Mama drank deep from her Orangina.
    â€œHe’d be proud of you. Taking over the show. I’m not sure he thought you’d do it. Growing up, you never listened to him much.”
    â€œI majored in English and Creative Writing like he told me.”
    Mama laughed. “All you did growing up was read, play softball, and write in your journals. Wasn’t hard to figure out which direction to point you.”
    â€œYeah, well, I sure didn’t know what to do with myself after graduation.”
    â€œThe Lord knew. He brought you right back here and plopped you on your daddy’s show.”
    â€œMama . . .” Joy lowered her empty Orangina bottle back into the carton and retrieved another. “Duncan sold the show . . . to a woman named Allison Wild of Wild Woman Productions.”
    Mama regarded her for a long moment, the way she used to when she wanted to see whether Joy was fibbing. “My, my, Duncan sold the show. Never imagined I hear those words. Did he give you a reason?”
    â€œHe said he’d taken the show as far as he could.” Joy picked at the frayed hem of her old, baggy shorts and recounted the details from McDonald’s last night and the studio this morning. Mama listened, sipping on her soda.
    When Joy finished, Mama returned her drained Orangina to the carton and rubbed her hands together.
    â€œDoes she know? This Allison woman? Can you get out of your contract?”
    â€œShe doesn’t know. Duncan and I talked it out and decided nothing needs to change about the way we do the show. He recommended giving our current way a chance, and by the time Allison finds out, if she finds out, we’ll be such a hit she won’t care.”
    What defined a lie anyway? The absence of truth? No, changing the truth. Or shading the truth. If Allison asked outright, Joy would confess. But so far, none of Allison’s plans had anything to do with Joy’s cooking prowess. Or lack thereof.
    â€œNow would be a good time to break free, Joy. You don’t have to fill in for your daddy anymore or do Duncan any favors. You could chase that writing dream of yours. Freelance, write for the Gazette . What about coaching? You were always helping your friends with their batting or pitching. You can’t tell me you don’t miss softball.”
    â€œI’m almost thirty, Mama.” Joy stood in the last slant of sun falling through the porch screen, hunching her shoulders against the chill rising from her bones. “And all of that sounds like starting over. Duncan’s right. I need to give Allison a chance. Besides, writing is a hard life. Pays next to nothing for more years than I’ve been a host. I’d never get out of here and into my own place. And yes, I love softball. And I miss it. But that part of my life is over, you know? In the closed-up past.” Joy watched a spider work its way up the weave of the screen. “I suppose I could tug on a pair of overalls and work at Ballard Paint & Body with you.”
    Mama whistled, slapping her hands against her tanned thighs as she stood. “How long have you been waiting to let that zinger out?”
    â€œJust thought of it.”
    â€œFelt marinated in sarcasm to me.” Mama stepped into Joy’s shadow. “Enough is enough, Joy.