Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

DECEMBER 5, 1986

Evelyn had been at the lodge almost two months now, and had already lost twenty-three pounds. But she had gained in another area. She had found her group, the group she had been looking for all of her life. Here they were, the candy snatchers: chubby housewives, divorcees, single teachers and librarians, each hoping for a new start in life as a slimmer, healthier person.

She had not known how much fun it would be. To Evelyn Couch and her cronies in poundage, the most important thing on their minds was what exciting low-cal dessert would the cooks come up with tonight? Would it be Chiffon Pumpkin Pie, 55 calories per serving? Or Nonfat Fruit Whip, only 50 calories? Or, maybe tonight they would have her favorite, Fitness Flan, 80 calories per serving.

It had never dawned on Evelyn that just knowing it was Boots and Mitties Day could make her heart sing, nor that she would be the one who was always early for Water Fun.

But something else had happened here that she could never have dreamed of. She had become a much sought-after, popular person! When new people arrived at the lodge, they were soon asked, “Have you met that darling woman from Alabama? Wait till you hear her talk, she has the most adorable accent, and is she a character!”

Evelyn had never thought of herself as being funny or having a cute accent, but it seemed that every time she said anything, the other women would scream with laughter. Evelyn enjoyed her newfound celebrity and played it for all it was worth, holding court at night by the fireplace. Her special friends were three housewives from Thousand Oaks, one named Dorothy and two named Stella. They formed their own, private fat club, and vowed to meet once a year for the rest of their lives; and Evelyn knew they would.

After stretch and flex class, she changed into her new royal-blue jogging outfit and stopped by the desk to get her mail. Ed dutifully forwarded all the junk mail, and usually there was nothing important; but today she saw a letter postmarked Whistle Stop, Alabama. She opened the letter and wondered who could be writing her from there?

Dear Mrs. Couch,

I am sorry to tell you that on last Sunday, around 6:30 A.M., your friend Mrs. Cleo Threadgoode passed away at her home. I have several things she wanted you to have. My husband and I will be happy to bring them to Birmingham, or you may pick them up at your convenience. Please call me at 555-7760. I am here all day.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Jonnie Hartman

Neighbor

Suddenly, Evelyn didn’t feel cute anymore, and she wanted to go home.