Southern Fried Read Online Free PDF Page B

down.
    Pearl scratched her chin, pausing to think before she replied.
    22 Rob Rosen
    “Surprises?” she said. “Not rightly sure, seeing as I don’t know
    what’s been left to them. I mean, your granny was a lot of things,
    Trip.”
    “A lot,” I interrupted.
    “But deep on down to the roots, she was a fine woman. Took
    care of those that took care of her.”
    “Meaning, everyone is on this list?”
    “Meaning that, yes.” I read down the length of the paper as
    she recited if from memory. “There’s you, of course. Me, of
    course, otherwise you’d never live to hear the end of it. Jeeves,
    listed as Walter, of course. Then the not so of courses. Betty, the
    maid, Jake, the pool man, Roy, the gardener, Zeb the stable boy,
    and Stella, the handy, uh, man.”
    “The handyman’s name is Stella?” I couldn’t help but ask.
    She laughed, her jowls shaking as she did so. “Well now, boy,
    just you wait until you meet Stella, then you’ll understand. Now
    let’s dig in; food’s gettin’ cold.”
    “Wait,” I said, my eyes landing on one more name at the very
    bottom of the list. “Who’s this Beau Pellingham? Never heard of
    him before. Does he work here too?”
    She shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. Surely not that I can
    recall. Guess we’ll find out soon enough, though.”
    I shrugged as well, that pit in my belly swelling. But Pearl
    was right, we’d just have to wait and see who he was. Then she
    reached out to hold my hand. I grabbed on to hers. We bowed
    our heads, eyes closed good and tight. “Dear Lord,” she said,
    beginning our grace, “we thank you for the food we are about to
    eat. And we thank you for bringing old friends home and even
    older friends up to heaven with you. Please forgive her, Lord; she
    meant well.”
    “Amen,” I said, squelching a laugh. Then I looked over at
    Pearl. “Granny didn’t do anything she didn’t mean to do, you
    know. Well or not.”
    She smiled. “Trust me, I know. Anyway, he knows that already,
    southeRn FRied 23
    doesn’t he? I was just hedging us some bets.”
    “Amen,” I repeated, already eagerly lifting up a drumstick to
    my mouth.
    It was hot and crisp and fried to perfection. Colonel Sanders
    had nothing on Pearl. The chicken was moist, cooked with tender
    loving care. The greens were both bitter and hot, spicy hot,
    smothered with some secret sauce that burned a hole through
    your tongue, the fire doused with iced tea that had been brewing
    all day in the sun. The yams were home grown, sweet and candied,
    with extra heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar. A plate of biscuits
    sat to the side, dripping with butter and honey. “Hot damn,” I
    couldn’t help but groan, in between hearty mouthfuls.
    She smiled, lips wrapped around a thigh. “You got that right,
    boy.”
    Ten minutes later, we had both cleaned our plates, not a
    wayward crumb to be found. Though I did, of course, save some
    room. Peach pie was quickly proffered, topped with homemade
    whipped cream, steam rising up as I cut into it. “I should’ve
    come home sooner,” I said, slapping down a slab onto my plate.
    Pearl did the same. “But you didn’t, boy, did you?”
    I set my fork down and looked up at her, a frown suddenly
    forming on both our faces. “She wouldn’t let me, Pearl,” I
    explained. “I tried, believe me, I did. But she preferred to meet
    me in Atlanta or Savannah, Charleston or Hilton Head. Anywhere
    she could get driven to in a day’s time. Then it was a vacation
    for both of us. Me being home, she said, took all the fun out it
    because she’d still have to work, as she called it.” I again reached
    out and held Pearl’s hand. “And you know there was no arguing
    with Granny. Would’ve had better luck with this piece of pie.”
    Her smile returned, however half-heartedly. “Pie’s too good
    to argue with, Trip; just go ahead and eat it. Least you’re home
    now, and that’s all that counts.”
    Which was true, though it didn’t make me