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She chuckled. Sometimes, it was just too easy.
* * *
Mia satat the dining room table of the Wayward Inn after having picked at a huge lunch and surrounded by select members of the Pinkie Posse: Ms. Pinkie, Erma Jeffries, Cora Leigh Simmons, and Willa Mae Rathbun.
Lorraine was there, as well, although more as a ride into town and moral support than as a core member of the inimitable group of highly influential women. Women with a sassy bent, but influential nonetheless.
Rather than cause Angus and Bernadette more stress—cohabitation seemed to be more than they could handle based on the number of unintelligible arguments they were having lately—Mia had decided to bring the diary to the posse’s attention and seek their sage advice.
When she ran the idea past Oliver, he disagreed, suggesting instead they take the diary to church the following Sunday, asking the congregation to lay hands on it and to pray. But Mia knew deep down the information in the diary exonerated her mother of a multitude of past sins. And prayers alone weren’t going to get her the kind of help she needed to bring that to light.
What she needed was a strategic, concerted effort to disseminate the information exposed in the diary with surgical precision. And the only way to impart that kind of information in a way to be believed by the masses was for it to be shared by the irreproachable matriarchs of the community.
The Pinkie Posse.
She sniffed, pushing her peas around her plate, thinking the SAT prep course her mother made her take was worth every penny.
Mia closed the diary, having read through the most pertinent excerpts and found her heart pendant and rubbed it for some type of ethereally inspired confidence from her dad.
Willa Mae fanned herself with her napkin. “My goodness, Maisie Wellborn was quite the schemer.”
Erma shook her head, daubing her eyes with hers. “I never did believe Birdie capable of drugging the mayor.”
They went around the table discussing the layers of lies and accusations spawned by a sister who was jealous of her older sister in a really unhealthy way.
Mia carefully asked, “So, did y’all know Shelby Wellborn was so unbalanced?”
Everyone stared at her as if unwilling to come clean, except for Ms. Pinkie who said, “We all wondered, but it’s easier to put your head in the sand than to take the risk of encroaching on another family’s privacy.” She continued to say, “That’s not an excuse, young lady. But an explanation.”
Mia nodded, looking at the women around the table who were glancing at one another with grave regret. “So, maybe it’s not too late to help her. My mom. Birdie, I mean.” They finally looked her in the eye as if eager to make up for turning blind ones in the past. “Maybe we could make a list of all the people Maisie wronged in the name of my mom, and discreetly share the real story and help people see her for who she really was. Who she is. Maybe then, we can get her to come back home.”
Ms. Pinkie was the only person in the room willing to comment. But to Mia’s disappointment, she said, “Lorraine, would you mind escorting this remarkable young lady home? It appears me and my friends need to discuss this further and in private.”
Ms. Pinkie gave Lorraine a knowing look Mia was unable to decipher and led her out of the room without a backward glance.
Once in the car and buckled in, Mia crossed her arms over her chest and shot an angry glare toward Lorraine. “Well, that was a waste of time. Oliver was right. I could’ve gotten more done by allowing the church to lay hands on the diary, speak in tongues or…throw charmed snakes at it…”
Lorraine put the car back into park and turned toward Mia. “I’m proud of what you did in there. You pleaded your case to some very intimidating and highly influential women in Wayward.”
“A lot of good that did me,” she grumbled, kicking the bottom of her Chucks on the floorboard.
“What you don’t understand is what they are discussing in that little dining room will most definitely benefit you and your mother. Don’t assume the reason for not including you in their plans is because there aren’t any. I must admit,” she said, bobbing her head side to side. “…there are times when their methods are a bit unorthodox.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Be patient and wait.”
