Adventures of a Small Town Match Maker

By Nechia Gilliam Whittingham

Dalton Adams has been skipping church. Onion Taylor has a drinking problem. Sissy McClendon has been on a diet since the seventies. Never fear because Clemmie, the self-appointed relationship expert, is here! Whether it’s the local yoga instructor or the town mayor, no one is safe from Clemmie’s advice. Quirky southern characters are served up with some delicious recipes, including Scottlee’s fried bologna sandwiches and Lurlene’s chicken and rice casserole. If you need to relax and laugh, open this book and read about the charming small town of Star Falls and its lovable residents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646543083

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Adventures of a Small Town Match Maker

Nechia Gilliam Whittingham

Copyright © 2020 Nechia Gilliam Whittingham

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2020

ISBN 978-1-64654-307-6 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64654-308-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

In memory of my beautiful sister, Myrna Gilliam French. Your creativity, brilliance, courage, and capacity to love, will be forever missed. Your wings were ready, but my heart was not.

Chapter 1

The first time I tried to help my clumsy cousin Andrew get a date, we wound up in the ER.

Andrew was a sweet guy, but ever since he fell off the bleachers during the seventh-grade pep assembly at Star Falls Middle School, he had been racking up trips to every doctor’s office in the county. If you were planning a cookout for the Fourth of July, don’t invite Andrew. Your meal would have to be postponed until someone could dig the fishhook out of his thumb. He was that kind of guy.

Here, we sat in the ER. My name is Clementine Clemmie B. Starr. I’ve lived in Star Falls all my life, and my great-great-great-grandpa was Newt Starr, one of the original settlers of the area.

My parents were Walter Cronkite fans, so they thought giving me the initials CBS would be a great tribute. Poor Andrew didn’t have it so good—his parents named him Andrew Silas Starr, resulting in some very unfortunate initials.

Parents do that sort of thing, you know.

Anyway, last week, the phone rang, and Andrew started pleading, Come on, Clemmie, help me get a date for the Full-Moon Fling! I need help! I can’t go alone. Tonya will be there with Nathaniel, and I need to show her I’m not suffering.

I didn’t believe for one second that Andrew was really heartbroken. I figured Andrew’s relationship with Tonya was long on lust and low on love. Actually, he seemed relieved when Tonya had run off with Nathaniel, the local peewee football coach, who was apparently trying to sleep his way through the phone book.

If you look up the word mean in the dictionary, you would probably see a picture of Tonya. She had bullied every poor girl on her evening shift at the Star Falls Stop and Shop, where she was an assistant manager. If they even took a pee break, she made them stay overtime for those minutes.

A couple of weeks after she and Andrew split, I was at the Star Falls Stop and Shop, checking out, and when my cans of tuna fish were on the conveyor belt, she grabbed them and erased the sale price and marked it full price.

And Andrew was my cousin.

Andrew, how exactly do you want me to help you? I asked.

I knew I could count on you, Clemmie, he said. All I need is for you to invite me to that exercise class you go to on Thursday nights down at the Riverbat Community Center. I heard you say that place is full of loose women in tight clothes and that the only reason you go is to spread your Christian influence. Come on, Clemmie, let me go with you!

It sounded harmless, so I agreed.

When I arrived at Andrew’s place tonight, he stuck his head out the door and motioned me inside.

We’re gonna be late! I hollered. You don’t want to be late! If we are, we will get stuck on the back row between Ephemera and Ephesians, and you know how they like to fight.

Ephemera and Ephesians were fifty-five-year-old identical twins, who taught Sunday school in the First Baptist Holiness Tabernacle Church. Unfortunately, the sisters also both had a drinking problem, and the more they drank, the more they fought. And they were always drinking on exercise night.

People said it was a shame they had never married while some thought it was because of their drinking. I figured it was partly because they had a bad habit of slamming men against the wall when they got mad at them.

Andrew was still motioning me inside, so I got out of my Ford and climbed the steps into his trailer.

Once inside, Andrew twirled around for my inspection.

Andrew, exactly, what do you have on your legs? I asked.

These are my football pants that I wore when I was a Star Falls Riverbat, he replied proudly. At the end of the season, when our coach told us to turn in our gear, I just kept mine.

Andrew, technically, that’s stealing, and why would you want to wear those pants anyway? I asked.

Well, they are the closest thing I have to any kind of workout clothes, and I think they make me look, um, muscular, he said.

I took in his lime-green T-shirt that has Nothing Runs Like a Deere printed on it and his Bon Jovi cap. I pointed at the cap.

Bon Jovi? I asked.

This is to foster my bad-boy image, Andrew replied, and with that, we loaded up and drove the seven miles to Riverbat Community Center.

Sure enough, we were late—a bad sign indeed.

Hey, Clemmie! Hey, Andrew! hollered Ephesians. I got a spot right here for you both, she said loudly.

They don’t wanna stand by you, called Ephemera. You stink. You stink like beer poured in the floorboard of my Buick and left for the summer!

The fitness instructor turned up the music, and the workout began.

We were doing jumping jacks and lunges and running in place, and things seemed to be going pretty good until the teacher’s iPod died, and the last few bars of All About That bass faded away.

Ephesians took the silence as the perfect opportunity to get the class’s attention.

Hey, Andrew! You already got a date for the full-moon Fling? she asked.

Andrew smiled and looked around at all those female faces. As a matter of fact, I do not, but I’m hoping to find someone who wants to accompany me.

Great! Count me in, Andrew, and you can pick me up at seven, said Ephesians.

I could see the total shock on Andrew’s face. He had walked right into this mess.

Um, you wouldn’t want to go with me and leave Ephemera home alone, would you? he tried lamely.

Heck, we could make it a double date. Ephemera smiled with a wink. If you know what I mean.

Andrew did know what she meant, and this was not the way he had planned for the evening to go.

Uh, I don’t think that is a good idea, said Andrew.

Andrew was never good thinking on his feet. Surely, he could do better than that.

You could tell Ephesians was riled up now. Not a good idea? she asked. You just said you were looking for a date, and now you are turning down two beautiful women? Are we not good enough for you? I’m gonna kick your skinny butt!

And with that, she grabbed Andrew by the shoulders, attempting to shove him against the wall. Unfortunately, someone in the 5:00 p.m. yoga class had left a few mats stacked at the back of the room, and Andrew tripped on them smacking his head pretty good before hitting the floor.

Blood began trickling down Andrew’s face. Ephemera started hollering at Ephesians, and we slid out the side exit door and headed for the hospital.

After checking in and filling out the paperwork, we sat in the exam room, waiting for Andrew’s head to be stitched. A small brunette worked efficiently. I don’t think we’ve met you yet, I offered. And we know most of the staff. I’m Clemmie, and that’s my cousin Andrew over there lounging on the bed.