Progressive Dinner Deadly: Myrtle #2

Chapter Three

Myrtle wasn't sure exactly how to blog. But being an octogenarian blogger was an idea that definitely had legs to it. The idea of conquering technology, at her age, gave her a warm, smug feeling. 

"I was even thinking," said Sloan, warming up to his subject, "that we could run a story on that supper club you're in." 

"The progressive dinner thing?" asked Myrtle with surprise. "That's news?" 

"It might not be interesting for expensive newsprint news," explained Sloan. "But it's perfect for online. You can mention the names of all the people who were there, the food that was served. Take some pictures and upload them. And then all those people will go online to read about themselves. You know how people are in Bradley. So you could play up the angle, butter them all up a little bit. And I'll have links on the blog site to subscribe to the paper. I think I've even got some local advertisers interested." 

Myrtle still wasn't sold on the news value of the impending supper club that she hadn't been excited about to begin with. "Wellll. I guess so. I'm still trying to work out what to cook for it. I'm hosting desserts at my house and I want to try something different." 

Sloan brightened. "You know what you could do? Check out the food blogs. There are tons of sites with recipes-and they even do step-by-step pictures on how to cook them. I use them a lot, living by myself. What do I know about cooking?" 

Myrtle beamed. "Smart boy. Now that's a great idea." She bestowed on him one of her fondest looks, usually reserved for her grandson. 

Sloan looked concerned that he might end up the unwilling recipient of a hug. He moved backwards a few steps. "Well good. And thanks for the coverage on the progressive dinner. I think we're on to something really good."

After spending an hour studying food blogs, Myrtle was well and truly overwhelmed. She'd visited a couple of blogs before, but she'd had no clue that there were so many of them out there. And they all linked to each other, so when you went to one food blog, you discovered fifteen or twenty others that sounded good. She decided the food blog idea still sounded like a great source for recipes, but it wouldn't work out on such short notice. Myrtle walked over to the Piggly Wiggly, grabbed a couple of Key Lime pies and two dozen cupcakes and called herself done.  

But she was still stuck cooking that side dish for Jill's part of the dinner, since she'd so shortsightedly volunteered to help out. Luckily, she cooked a mean three bean salad. She charged into the kitchen, full of confidence and good intentions.  

Sadly, it did end up slightly overcooked, but that's because she was writing that darned blog post for Sloan and trying to figure out how to log on. He'd given her an instructions sheet to follow, but it wasn't as easy as he'd made out. The cheese on top of her casserole had gotten just a little bit singed. It was going to have to do, though-it was time for the dinner to start and she still had to hand off the side to Jill.  

Myrtle wrapped the hot dish tightly in aluminum foil, carried it to Jill's house with her rooster oven mitts, and handed it off to the grateful Jill with relief. "See you in a few minutes, Miss Myrtle. I'm just putting the finishing touches on the baked beans. Y'all are so sweet to bring side dishes. Everybody has been so thoughtful." 

"No problem, sweetie. And everything smells divine. See you in a few."

The problem with hosting a supper club was that most of the houses on the street were modest in size. Oh the houses definitely had their strong points; after all, they were on the lake and each one on Myrtle's side of the street had a dock with a boat. But the houses themselves were older homes, built in the 1950s. Most were your basic three-bedroom, two bathroom ranches. Miles had only two bedrooms and one bathroom. Which, Myrtle thought as she visited with Miles, was absolutely fine. All the space in the world that a bachelor needed. Except when hosting a supper club of thirty people. And especially when you provided them with alcohol, as Miles had so thoughtfully done for the hors d'oeuvres and cocktail leg of their culinary journey.