“Yeah, I can’t see why she would have a problem with that at all,” Ida Belle said.
“I know, right?” Gertie said, clearly missing the sarcasm. “It’s like she wakes up every day trying to figure out how to make the entire world as miserable as she is.”
“That seems a fairly accurate statement,” I agreed.
I heard someone clearing their throat behind me and turned around to see an older woman with the word ‘Manager’ on her name tag. She was wearing a forced smile until she caught sight of the ruined dress, then it changed to a pained look.
“I understand there was a problem with the dress,” she said.
“The dress was fine until your saleslady threw a tray of dessert at it,” I said.
“Yes, well,” the woman said, looking increasingly more uncomfortable. “She was under the impression that you were going to harm her.”
I shook my head. “I was just trying to save the desserts before she passed out. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it.”
“So you’re not…” The woman’s voice trailed off.
“An assassin?” I asked. “Not anymore. Nowadays, I try to apprehend people without killing them. Doesn’t always work out, but you know how it goes—you have the best intentions when you head off to work and sometimes things just don’t go the way you planned.”
She paled a bit. “You’re joking, of course.”
“Heck no, she’s not joking,” Gertie said. “Fortune was one of the CIA’s best operatives.”
The woman relaxed a tiny bit. “CIA. I see.”
Gertie smiled. “So it’s all aboveboard. Government-sanctioned killing, and you know our government always gets everything right.”
The pained look returned.
“Well, is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, looking at me but not directly in the eyes. “Are you the bride-to-be?”
“Good God, no,” I said and pointed to Ida Belle. “That’s your victim.”
“And you need a wedding dress?” she asked.
“No way I’m wearing one of those things,” Ida Belle said. “Besides, do you know how much ammo I could buy for that price?”
“Then what can I help you with?” the woman asked, her exasperation starting to show.
“A garter,” Ida Belle said. “Preferably one in blue. That way I cover two of those superstitious wedding things.”
“You dragged me all the way out here for a garter?” Gertie said. “Why don’t you just order one online like you do everything else?”
“It’s going to be on my thigh,” Ida Belle said. “I don’t want anything that close to my privates to come from an online store. God only knows how many people would fondle it before it got to me.”
“You buy your underwear online,” Gertie said. “And they’re kissing your privates.”
“My underwear come in a package,” Ida Belle said. “Less handling by strangers. Besides, I wash them in bleach and hot water before I wear them and that wouldn’t be good for the garter. Please tell me you’re not wearing drawers right out of the package.”
Gertie suddenly grew interested in the stained wedding dress.
Before anyone could launch into the questionable state of Gertie’s drawers or the potential risks to her privates, I motioned to the manager. “We’ll take a blue garter, please. Here’s twenty bucks. Keep the change. And I’m sorry about the mess.”
The manager took my twenty bucks and met us at the door as we prepared to leave. She opened the bag wide enough for Ida Belle to look inside. “They’re individually wrapped,” she said. “So your, uh…everything should be fine. Just fine.”
“Perfect,” Ida Belle said. “Two things down. I’ve got my garter and I can officially cross going out to shop off my annual list of things to do.”
“You have an annual list?” I asked as we hopped in her SUV.
She nodded. “I know I can be stubborn, so there’s a few things that some people suggest are normal or polite things to do. I refuse to work them into my daily life, so I have a list. As long as I do things on that list once per year, I consider that broadening my horizons.”
“But you shop all the time,” I said, confused. “We just stocked up on ammo yesterday, and the day before we both bought meat at the butcher.”
“Food and ammo are essential items,” Ida Belle said. “My list requires that I shop for something nonessential and at a place I wouldn’t normally frequent.”
“You’re cheating,” Gertie said. “The garter is essential.”
“No. The garter is for Walter,” Ida Belle said. “I’m already marrying him. Do you think he would have the bad judgment to say he won’t go through with it unless I’m wearing a garter?”
“You shouldn’t challenge wedding superstition,” Gertie said. “Bad things could happen.”
“I’ve been friends with you since Jesus was in diapers,” Ida Belle said. “I’m pretty sure I’m prepared for whatever life throws at me.”
“You’re impossible,” Gertie said.
“You’re going to break a finger trying to shove a square peg in a round hole,” I said to Gertie. “If the bride and groom are good with it, then everyone else should be.”
“The groom would skydive naked if that’s what Ida Belle said it would take to tie the knot,” Gertie said. “So what Walter will settle for is not the same as what he might like, given that he’s unlikely to have more than one wedding, especially after being married to Ida Belle.”
“I thought he had a cardiac workup last week to prepare,” I said.
“Here’s an idea,” Ida Belle broke in. “Stop thinking about it as a wedding and consider it a party with a bit of ceremony at the start. I mean, honestly, we’re going for the short version here. The entire I-do-do-you-exchange-rings thing won’t last ten minutes. It’s the rest of the afternoon that’s going to be more important, and that is going to be stellar.”
Gertie crossed her arms and slumped in her seat. “I don’t see what’s so stellar about boiled crawfish and kegs of beer. We’re invited to one of those parties just about every week.”
“Because those parties don’t have a cake and other goodies that Ally baked,” Ida Belle said. “And the sides aren’t catered by Miss Molly.”
Gertie perked up. “You hired Miss Molly?”
Ida Belle grinned and nodded. “I thought that might make you happy.”
“Who’s Miss Molly?” I asked.
“Only the best caterer in southeast Louisiana,” Gertie said. “Her potato salad is legendary. There’s been three shoot-outs over it just in the last two years alone.”
“I’m not shooting anyone over potato salad,” I said. “Maybe over cake.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Anyway, Miss Molly is one of Sinful’s more colorful residents.”
“How come I’ve never heard of her?” I asked. “I thought I’d cornered the market on anyone who could provide great food. Why have you been holding out?”