Dinner's Ready by, Madeline R.

Dinner’s Ready📷

By Madeline R.

Betty Brown was an exceptional cook. She made a scrumptious tuna casserole, mouth-watering ginger carrots, and the sweetest lemon chiffon cake in all of Atlanta. Frederick Brown, Betty’s husband, would have to agree. Freddie always said nothing could compare to her cooking and Betty believed him. That was, until she found the letter.

Snatching Freddie’s coat as he returned from work, a letter dropped into Betty’s hands. A love letter. She swooned at the declarations of love weaved within each line, her heart fluttering. Eagerly, Betty searched for her own name.

Yet Freddie’s letter was addressed to “His Darling Nancy.”

“No.” Betty murmured. Her face flushed and her finely painted fingers shook. “He wouldn't.”

Before Betty could process her bewilderment, the doorbell rang. Freddie arose swiftly, but Betty placed a hand on his chest.

“Darling, you just got home. You keep eating, I’ll get it.” She suggested, batting her eyelashes.

“But-”

“Your food is getting cold, dear.” She warned.

Betty clicked her heels to see who was at the door, glimpsing a curvaceous lady through the window. Her lips were a vivid shade of rose, her elegant features framed by a crown of golden curls.

Betty immediately despised her. She stepped back, clenching the doorknob and twisting it open. The woman blinked back at her in surprise.

“Good evening miss. How are you today?” She inquired.

“Just fine, thank you.” Betty chirped through gritted teeth. “Can I help you?”

The woman nodded, holding out a small envelope.

“I would hope so. I’m Nancy Smith, a door to door saleswoman. Frederick Brown ordered some office supplies from me and I forgot to give him his receipt. Is this his address?”

“In fact it is. I’m Mrs. Brown.” Betty cheerfully replied, swiping the letter from her palm. “I’ll give this right to him. Do you happen to know Frederick, Ms. Smith?”

Nancy nodded politely, adjusting her skirts. “Indeed. My store is just across the street from Frederick’s work. He stopped in one day to order some things, and silly little me forgot to give him his receipt.”

“Well, Nancy, you seem like quite a nice gal, and I hate for you to see me all messy like this. Perhaps maybe you could come over for some pie when I’m looking a bit nicer?” Betty suggested, her voice bubbling.

Nancy’s face drained, her dainty fingers tucking a curl behind her ear. “Mrs. Brown, I really wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“No, no!” Betty brushed her remark with the wave of her hand. “Any friend of Freddie’s is a friend of mine.”

Nancy waffled for a moment before responding. “Alright, if you insist. We should set a date soon-”

“Does tomorrow work?” Betty blurted.

Nancy wavered, her lips slowly folding into a smile.

“Well… in fact it does. Shall I come over around noon?”

“Noon sounds lovely.” Betty smirked as Nancy ambled off. Just wait until she finds out what’s cooking.

By the next afternoon, the house was spotless. The kitchen counter shined, toilet bowls gleamed, and every cushion was softly fluffed. Betty studied herself in the mirror. Her cheeks blushed, and pearls cascaded splendidly around her neck, and dangled from her ears. She practiced a phony smile, smoothing her emerald skirt. She looked perfect.

A knock suddenly sounded from the doorway, and Betty hurried to the door, flashing a charming smile. She welcomed Nancy inside, escorting her guest to the kitchen table. The two cordially conversed, but a thick smoke of suspicion filled the air between them.

“Nancy, I am so glad you could come over. It’s nice to have some company.” Betty confessed, slicing cherry pie with perfect ease. Her baker’s hands quickly sprinkled some powder onto one of the slices, and she placed the platters on the table.

Nancy seemed hesitant, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes shifting nervously around the room. Yet still, Betty beamed, sliding Nancy a buttery slice that oozed with ripe cherries.

“It’s my mother’s recipe. Why don’t you try some?” Betty suggested, sampling a modest bite. “The filling is to die for.”

Nancy cleared her throat, taking a paltry nibble. Betty bit her lip to hide a grin. “Delicious.” Nancy courteously replied.

“While you’re here Nancy, I think we should talk.” Betty interrupted sharply, sweeping her hair behind her ears. Nancy nodded, sipping her tea.

“So, let's get to the point here. How long have you been writing love letters to my husband?”

Nancy coughed quietly, her cup clattering to its plate. Her skin turned eerily white beneath a rosy blush.

“Mrs. Brown, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If this is why you invited me over I think I really should be off now-”

“No, no, Nancy, you can’t leave just yet. You’ve only had one bite of my delicious pie.” Mrs. Brown teased melodically.

Nancy shook her head. “Honestly, I must go. Thank you for having me though.” Nancy scrambled from her seat, heading towards the door.

“NOO!” Betty screeched, heaving the tablecloth from the table, her silverware clambering to the floor. “Don’t leave.” She flared.

It was a mad chase to the door, with high heels launched and dresses gashing. Betty slid to the floor, clutching Nancy’s heel. Nancy howled in response, hurling her Mary Jane pumps at Betty’s cheek. Betty barely flinched though, clawing after her guest.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know!” Nancy huffed desperately, bracing herself up against the door. Her hair was now tangled, her dress torn and her makeup smeared.

Betty’s eyes gleamed. “Too late now sweetie.” She hushed. Nancy’s eyes widened with horror. She shrieked until her limbs gave out and her body tumbled dead to the floor. Betty chuckled. She did make a killer cherry pie.

Nancy died at one in the afternoon, leaving Betty exactly five hours to clean the dishes, start dinner, and dispose of Nancy’s body. She happened to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she finished the job, her hair uneven, blush blotchy, and her dress ripped. Bright drops of crimson steadily trickled from the open wound on her cheek. She smiled at her reflection. She was beautiful.

Mrs. Brown hoped the Mr. would think so too since she didn’t have any time to clean herself up. The door opened promptly at 6 o’clock. Betty quickly opened the door, grinning as Freddie stepped inside.

It was when Betty saw Freddie’s face that she realized she had made a mistake. Him and his fake smiles had fooled her. Nancy hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. It was this man that had brought upon her sorrows.

Freddie’s bright facial expression dramatically changed when he fully saw his wife in the light. She leaned in for a kiss as he pulled her back.

“Betty, what happened to you?” He asked, concern written in the frown on is face.

“Nothing, dear.” Betty flashed a mad smile. “Honey, give your loving wife a hug.”

Freddie ducked out of his wife’s reach. “Betty, are you alright?”

“Alright? Why, I’ve never been better!” Betty laughed, limping towards her husband. Freddie stumbled back, shaking, as Betty pulled the carpet out from beneath him.

He yelped in pain, crawling backwards. “Betty you’ve gone mad. You need to calm down.” Freddie soothed.

“So you’re not going to apologize for what you’ve done?” Betty pouted.

Freddie held up his hands up defensively. “Woah, Betty, what are you talking about?” He laughed nervously.

“I’m sorry Freddie, but I have to do this. This is for me, and for her. And I haven’t heated up your dinner yet either. Ask me why darling?”

Betty clutched her husband’s shoulder, and slipping a gleaming kitchen knife from her apron. Her expression was one of both heartache and vengeance.

“Why?” He wheezed helplessly.

Betty grinned, raising her knife. “Because revenge is a dish best served cold.”