Tippy held the door open for her, then propped it open while Wella took in the sight of a breakfast bar that made Shoney’s look like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.
Wella turned to Tippy. “Does Saxon Allen know this?” She pointed to the steaming food.
On cue, Saxon Allen came into the dining room with a stack of plates. “Morning.”
“Girl what the hell is wrong with you?” Wella said to her.
“Excuse me?”
“Go in that kitchen, throw that man on the floor, grab him by the hair and drag him to the nearest church.”
“Uhm…” Saxon didn’t know what to say.
“Girlfriend, just gimme a plate and get out of my way.” Wella snatched a plate and started piling on the scrambled eggs and bacon. “You white people…” She mumbled. “Hey! Where’s the fried green tomatoes? I was promised…”
Ian appeared with a plate in his hands. “Looking for these?”
Wella smiled. “Morning, Ian.” She speared two and kissed his cheek.
“Morning, Wella.” He bent over slightly to put the plate down on the sideboard. Wella smacked him on the crown of the head.
“Ow!” Ian straightened up. “What was that for?”
“Hoping to knock some sense into you.” She said looking back and forth between Ian and Saxon. “Never mind. I’m not wasting my breath, too much food to eat.” Wella pulled out a chair and sat down.
“She’s kinda cranky in the mornings.” Ian looked at Saxon.
“Honey.” Tippy grinned breaking open a buttermilk biscuit and arranging it on her plate and looked at Saxon. “Did you spend the night, too?”
“Couldn’t help it.” Saxon said. “Ronnie called at ten o’clock and said it was an emergency to come right over and bring potato chips. I got caught up in the festivities.”
Tippy only half looked where she ladled her gravy. “Where’d ya sleep?”
“In the floor.” Wella slapped half a piece of bacon on her plate. “Beside me.”
Tippy scowled and smacked Saxon on the crown of the head as she bent to pick up a biscuit.
“Ow!” Saxon touched her head. “What was that for?”
“I’m with Wella.” Tippy took a seat beside her. “You kids are just plain stupid.” Wella shoved a fork full of tomato in her mouth with one hand and held the other in the air. Tippy high fived it, as she scooted herself in.
“My cinnamon rolls!” Ian disappeared into the kitchen.
“Please tell me they are from a can.” Wella looked at Tippy.
“Not even the icing.”
Wella rolled her eyes. “Screw the blond stick. That man’s gonna find himself snuggled up next to a chunky black woman with athlete’s foot.”
Jeff Torkelson came strolling in the dining room and took a deep breath. “Saxon, you made breakfast?”
Tippy and Wella sniggered, while Saxon rolled her eyes. “Jeff, I burn pans boiling water.”
“Who made…?”
Ian came out of the kitchen with a pan of pastries. “Anyone want a cinnamon roll? I just took ‘em out of the oven?”
Tippy leaned over and grabbed them, sitting them in front of her and Wella. Ian turned to Jeff. “There’s more in the oven. Coffee or tea?”
“Uh, Coffee…black.” Jeff held up his hand. “Who made the coffee?”
“I did.” Blake looked up from his corner of the table, mouth full of pancakes.
Jeff smiled and took the cup Ian offered. “No offense.”
“None taken. Don’t see how you can drink the stuff anyway.” Ian looked around the room. “Every body awake or at least faking it?”
“I haven’t seen Tessie or Jenson.” Daryn said going back for more biscuits and gravy. “Can we work at your house for breakfast every morning?”
“Tess is in the kitchen on the phone and Jenson’s in the bathroom barfing.” Ian said.
“Again.”
“Remind me to have a bucket handy when he wins the Emmy or at least make sure my seat’s not anywhere near him.” Someone said.
“Are you kidding?” Someone else piped in. “On nomination day he’ll have a coronary.”
Ian looked at his feet. “Ronnie where’s the rodent?”
He looked up from his eggs. “In the backyard playing with Ralphie.”
“Has Ralphie had breakfast?” Ian leaned over to look through the door into the yard.
“You feed the neighbor’s dog?” Saxon asked him.
“He’s hoping the dog will eat the cat.” Tippy said barely taking a breath.
Ian leaned back from the door after noticing the cat and the dog chasing a ball together. “Stupid animals.”
Ronnie grinned and picked up some toast. “They’re friends.” He looked around. “Hey, Papa, do we have any more apple jelly?”
“No. We’ll make some more next week.” Ian opened up a cabinet under the sideboard. “We got grape and blueberry.”
“Blueberry.”
“I’ll take the grape.” Sean said. “Unless you got apple butter hidden somewhere.”
Ian put three jars on the table.
“He makes his own jelly?” Wella looked at Tippy, who just sighed and nodded her head.
“Sad, isn’t it?”
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