“That sway-back heifer!” Belinda said, hands on hips.

“Mom, you are in the Lord’s house!” Tamara said, shocked.

“It’s my turn to provide the coffee hour refreshment. Sheree knows I do every sixth week,” Belinda said setting her buttery pound cake down with an angry thunk. “and she shows up with her skinny ass apple cobbler.”

Fragrant chunks of cooked from scratch apples in a maple glaze peeped up from buttermilk golden crust. The heavenly smell made Belinda’s mouth water. Rolling her eyes behind her mother’s back, Tamara set down the bowls of freshly whipped cinnamon cream and warm spiced apple compote.

“That woman makes my ass itch,” Belinda said stamping her high heels.

“Mother, language! Remember it is not a competition. You’re all serving the Lord. I’m sure it was just an accident.”

Belinda turned and gave her daughter a look that would hobble most grown men. Tamara swallowed hard.

“I’ll go place the whipped cream in the fridge, shall I?” Tamara said and exited with her mother’s white and blue hen Corningware.

Belinda grumbled as she fussed with the paper napkins and plates. Arranging and rearranging the paper goods, Belinda thought of her rival Sheree. She was a new church member and had only been attending The Good Shepherd’s for five years. Practically a stranger Sheree was still over the last couple of years joining every church group Belinda was in, the Hospitality Committee, the Board of Trustees, Christian Women, even the goddamned Serenity Gardening group. She was always volunteering and making suggestions to try new things. She was always smiling in her face while she did it.

“Belinda, so nice to see you’re bringing back the 90s shoulder pads. How brave,” Sheree said from behind her.

Scowling Belinda raised her head from the hospitality table. She turned to face her nemesis with her best go fuck yourself Sunday smile.

“Good morning, Sheree, I am so happy you were able to crawl out of the bar and make it to church on time.”

Tamara stepped out of the church kitchen with extra dessert plates. Seeing the church ladies squared up, Tamara ducked back into the kitchen and slipped out of the kitchen back door.

“Why Belinda bless your heart thank you for being concerned about my well-being but why do you think I drink as much as you do?”

Bosom to bosom, the two women had dropped the pretense of friendliness. Belinda inhaled deeply Sheree always smelled good, this Sunday her rival smelled of almonds and nutmeg and browned butter.

“Well I figured you had to be drunk to make broke down apple cobbler when you know it was my turn to handle hospitality. I made the pastor’s favorite, butter pound cake,” Belinda said bumping against the other woman.

Bumping back, Sheree said, “I signed the sign up sheet for today and your pound cake is as dry as your cobweb covered—“

Belinda surprising herself and kissed Sheree full on the mouth. Blinking rapidly, she popped back.

“Well finally,” Sheree said. “I had to chase you till you caught me.”

Languidly looking Belinda’s staturesque body up and down, Sheree rubbed the back of her fingers against Belinda’s soft cheek. A dam burst inside Belinda. Like a magnet, their lips were drawn together for a longer more satisfying kiss.

“Belinda, after the service why don’t you drop off your girl and stop over to my house for breakfast. I can make you my world famous scrambled eggs. I make them with creme fraiche and fresh chives.”

“Oh you bougie bitch with them soft scrambled eggs. I like a firm touch with heavy cream and the bite of parmesan,” Belinda said with a sly smile.

Shoulders brushing, the church ladies left Fellowship hall and went to the church kitchen to heat up the coffee urn.