To Brie or Not to Brie Read Online Free Page B

Prudence said.
    “At last,” Iris echoed while brushing lint off the peacock blue tote bag inscribed
     with her company name and slogan:
Iris’s Flowers
.
Growing Stronger.
    “What’s going on?” Meredith said from the platform.
    Edy tugged on the base of the dress to keep Meredith in place.
    “Nothing, sugar,” Tyanne said. “I’ve got this. Don’t you worry your pretty head.”
     She directed Freckles to shuttle Meredith and the twins behind their screens and marched
     toward Prudence. “Let’s talk out in the shop.”
    “No.” Prudence folded her arms across her chest.
    “Yes, let’s,” Iris said, uncharacteristically taking the lead. I couldn’t remember
     her ever having an opinion, let alone a backbone, not even when chairing the garden
     society meetings. She hoisted the strap of her tote over her shoulder with a grunt—what
     did she carry in that thing, gardening tools?—and said, “C’mon, Pru.”
    Prudence didn’t seem to have heard, not because she was staring daggers at Tyanne;
     she was glowering at me. What was up with that?
    “C’mon, Pru,” Iris repeated. By nature, Iris was a fixer, though a tad zealous and
     somewhat misguided. She was always tweaking things—her garden, her neighbor’s garden,
     the church garden. She pulled her friend by the forearm.
    Begrudgingly, Prudence moved.
    “Who else wants to come with us?” Self-consciously Iris plucked her shaggy wheat-toned
     hair, which reminded me of a dandelion, so feathery and sparse that it all might blow
     away in a strong wind.
    “Me.” Edy loped past them and held open the curtain. “Charlotte, Tyanne, are you coming?”
    She certainly seemed keen on leaving the stockroom. Did she want to keep her ears
     tuned to whatever Prudence might have to say about her former employee?
    “While we’re here, Pru”—Iris pushed through the curtain—“we can look at a couple of
     quilts to hang on the walls of your shop. Redecorating will cheer you up.”
    As we followed them out of the stockroom, Tyanne whispered, “If that’s all it took,
     I’d buy Prudence the quilts myself.”
    I would have laughed, but Prudence whirled around by the cash register and glared
     at me as if she wanted to squash me like an ant.
    “What?” I said, instinctively on the defensive.
    Tyanne said, “Lookie here, Prudence, if you want to talk to me about the Harvest Moon
     Ranch deal—”
    “She doesn’t.” Iris sagged, her Pollyanna essence fizzling. “She wants to discuss
     that thing your grandmother is doing, Charlotte. I tried to talk her out of it.”
    “What thing?” I asked.
    “That production of
Hamlet
.”
    “Production?” Prudence sniped. “That spectacle, you mean.”
    Here we go
. Providence Playhouse offered a variety of works. The theater had garnered all sorts
     of awards. However, for the first time in years, my grandmother had chosen to do a
     classic.
    “She’s putting it on in the Village Green,” Prudence said. “Of all the nerve. With
     a Renaissance theme, no less.”
    “No less,” Iris echoed, retreating to her comfort zone of passive friend.
    “Won’t it be fun?” I said, trying to defuse Prudence’s fury. “She’ll enlighten people
     about the times. There will be a winepress and pretend sword fights and—”
    “It will draw the riffraff of Ohio,” Prudence snapped.
    “Oh, button it, sugar,” Tyanne said.
    Prudence spun around and stabbed a finger at Tyanne. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
    “I may and I did.” Tyanne mirrored the finger-pointing. “Having a highly respected
     Shakespearean play in our park will educate our townsfolk. And to a man, they like
     being educated. So, I repeat, button it.”
    I had never seen Tyanne so forceful. The transformation was electric. Divorce counseling
     had been good for her.
    “You…You…” Prudence laid her hand upon her own chest. “Me. I was going to be the destination-wedding
     planner in town. Not you.”
    “Aha,” Tyanne