Spring Willows

Chapter 8

 

Carol walked into the church fellowship hall, a large red Tupperware bowl in hand. 

 

She winced at the bright lights, stark walls, and rows of folding tables covered in white plastic. Officer Brian sat at one, his chin barely clearing the tabletop. Carol grinned when she caught his eye. He scowled back. She skirted a cluster of chattering couples and headed for the food tables.

 

On the way, she counted seventeen crockpots plugged into multiple power strips leading to a single outlet. Hopefully, the fire chief stayed home.

 

Reaching the collection of five different potato salads and six pasta salads, she set down her bowl. Taking off the lid, she tucked it underneath before setting out a matching red serving spoon.

 

Officer John, looking odd out of uniform in his church clothes, nudged her shoulder with his. “That’s not a salad.”

 

“It’s green.”

 

“I don’t think pistachio fluff counts.”

 

Carol shrugged. It was an argument she heard every time she brought the salad.

 

A woman in a brightly patterned blue floral dress approached. “Carol! Look at you. Girl, you’re so pale. Don’t you ever see the sun?” 

 

Carol took a calming breath and pasted on a smile. “Your husband, Chief Smith, likes to keep me in the dark.”

 

Mrs. Smith frowned, trying to decide if Carol was joking.

 

There was a loud electric “snap” and the lights went out.

 

Someone screamed, “My meatballs!”

 

Carol closed her eyes.

 

Seventeen crockpots. One outlet.

 

Of course.