Reunion Beach Elin Hilderbrand (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📖

Julia followed Pat and Dottie into the bar’s kitchen. Two long aluminum tables, one marked PAT and the other DOTTIE, were filled with the ingredients to make cornbread.

Dottie clapped her hands together. “I like this already. Somebody already did the shopping. What fun!”

“I’m getting to work,” Pat said seriously.

Julia took a seat and watched the writers sift, pour, and stir. “Dottie, what’s in that recipe?”

“Okay, start with an 8 × 11 pan. Grease it. Put your stove on 425 degrees. I’m taking ½ cup of cornmeal, 11/2 cups of all-purpose flour, 1 tablespoon of baking powder, ¼ cup powdered milk, 1 cup of sugar. Sift all that and set it aside. Whisk ¼ cup warm water with 1 large egg, ½ stick of butter melted, and a pinch of salt. Pour that mixture over the dry ingredients and whisk until lumpy. Add in a can of creamed corn and whisk it in until all the lumps disappear. Now, I’m pouring it into the pan. And now, into the oven.”

“Interesting. Creamed corn?” Julia asked.

“Do you have another use for it?”

“Not really,” Julia laughed. “I guess creamed corn is to your cornbread what a can of onion soup is to every casserole my mother ever made since 1958.”

“I’d say that’s accurate.”

“Pat, how are you doing?”

“I’m using a seasoned skillet. Throwing it into the oven at 375 to heat to temperature. I’m mixing 1 cup of all-purpose flour, 1 cup of cornmeal, ¼ teaspoon of salt, 4 teaspoons of baking powder, 2 sticks of softened butter, 1 cup of sugar, 4 large eggs. Altogether, beat it well. Then, you add a can of creamed corn.”

“Hmm. Now you like the creamed corn where before you were turning your nose up at it. Suddenly everyone is on the creamed corn bandwagon.” Dottie sniffed.

“Gonna try it,” Pat said as he stirred the ingredients. “Can’t hurt. Then add 1 cup of cheddar cheese, 1 cup of Monterey Jack cheese, 1 cup of smashed sweet mini tomatoes, 1 cup of diced green chilis, a shot of chili powder, you know a slight sprinkle. Pull the hot pan out of the oven. Throw in the mixture and back into the oven for an hour. Firecracker cornbread skillet style.”

“I have a question for you all. In a place without time, how do you know how long to bake it?”

“It’s done,” Dottie and Pat said in unison, lifting their cornbread out of the oven.

“I think I’m gonna like it here. Instant Southern classics.” Julia smiled. “I have a lot of questions about this place.”

“Ask Pat. He’s the old pro.”

“Thanks, Dot.”

“What happens when we fade away up here?”

“Don’t know, Julia.” Pat smiled.

“You’re getting awfully transparent.” Julia carefully cut Pat’s cornbread into triangles.

“I have no plan,” Pat admitted.

“No plan?”

“None.”

“Okay. Starting to understand what is going on here. Just need to develop some sort of philosophy to get through it.” Julia tasted Pat’s cornbread. “I loved life because I lived it with one goal, one purpose: to have fun. Fun is vastly underrated. It ought to be one of the beatitudes. Blessed be the funny because without fun, what’s the point?”

“You’ll come to appreciate bliss,” Pat said. “It’s a deeper form of fun.”

“Bliss. Well, you’ll have to convince me. I feel I know bliss. How do you top that first bite of a Delta-style lobster roll or the opening drumbeat of the Martin Luther King Day Parade in New Orleans followed by a beignet and chicory coffee? Or the way a pair of Manolos feel out of the box when you slip them on for the first time and it’s like they were made for you? I really liked living.”

“So did I,” Dottie said softly. “And dinner parties and cookouts and new shoes and jewelry. Sorry folks. I did.”

“Won’t matter after a while.”

“Pat, keep saying it, maybe it will come true.”

“You just have to be patient. Pretty soon, everybody you loved will find their way to you here.”

“How do you know for sure?” Julia asked.

“Because it’s already happened to me,” Pat said.

“It has?” Julia sampled Dottie’s cornbread. She chews slowly.

“It takes a while to find people,” Pat said. “There’s no rush. Eventually you will bump into every person you ever knew. And some you didn’t, people you wanted to meet, but never had the chance.”

“I’ve been very social since I arrived, and I think it’s made all the difference in my transition. I mean, I just got here, or it feels like it, and who’s the first person I find? My bestie Pat. How crazy is that?” Dottie said optimistically.

“There’s no adjustment, Julia,” Pat reminded her. “You will let go and when you do, everything will settle. Your troubles have no place to rest here. They’re just gone. It is a resplendent thing to be whole and healthy again. You won’t ever be sick again. That just wears you out. It wore me out anyway,” Pat admitted.

“How was your passing?” Julia asked.

“Mine was fast.” Dottie shrugged.

“Mine was slow,” Pat admitted.

“Mine was slow, too,” Julia said.

“Neither choices are good,” Dottie said. “But both tracks get you here. I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? To land where you’re supposed to be after you’ve lived. I was so frightened about all of it. And there was no need to be. When I was on earth, I’d have a come-apart thinking about dying and the afterlife. It seemed so frightening. In retrospect, I was trying to hold it all together so I wouldn’t frighten the people I loved.”

“You seem to hold it together nicely,” Julia said.

“That’s an illusion. Determination and a good girdle kept me upright.”

“And straight-backed chairs. You told me they helped your posture.”

“That’s true, Pat. My love of good furniture was a positive. I liked furniture so much I collected it even when I didn’t have a place to put it.”

“What did you do with it?” Julia asked.

“I hid it. Attics, basements, friends’ houses. Their attics. Their basements. I loaned out antiques like I was Mario Buatta, half in the bag at