Georgia on Her Mind(47)

So help me, if Dad is trying to fix me up with Rhine…No, he wouldn’t dare. Rhine’s married. I’ve heard him talk about his wife and kids.

(Mental note 1,123: find out what Dad’s up to.)

“Macy.” My sister-in-law, Suzanne, touches my forearm. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know how busy you are, but no Moore party is the same without you.”

Is she the sweetest thing, or what? “I wouldn’t miss it.” I squeeze her hand. Never mind that my days are freer than a roaring river—it’s good to be here. For Dad. For the family. For the free barbecue.

“You and your mom look adorable dressed alike,” she says just as her husband—and my brother—Cole joins us.

“How’s it going, Skipper?”

I swat his shoulder. “Stop. Go ahead and call Mom Barbie and see what happens to you.”

He laughs. “I can’t believe she got you to wear the same dress she’s wearing.”

“Quit it, Cole,” Suzanne nudges him. “I think it’s sweet. Not many women have the ability to wear the same dress yet seem so completely unique.”

“Forget him, Suz—he’s just jealous.”

Cole scoffs. “Yeah, that’s it, Macy. I’m jealous.”

By now Rhine has moved into position, the camera and crew rolling around him, Dad smiling augustly at his side.

“Welcome everyone,” Rhine begins, a swashbuckling air about him that draws people in. Digital camera flashes snap and buzz.

“We’re here in Beauty, Georgia, with The Food Connection’s latest partner, Moore Gourmet Sauces.”

I fade out and watch Dad, whose grin is so wide I think his face might get stuck. He’s worked hard for this. I know there were dark days when he wanted to quit and work a nine-to-fiver like everyone else.

I like the fact that Rhine is treating him with respect. He’s putting his arm around Daddy now.

Very cool. You go, Rhine. Mom strolls over to me with two glasses of punch.

“Look at your Dad. He’s beaming.”

I take a step away. “So are you.” I sip some very spunky sherry.

“He’s achieved his goal with this business. It’s a sound, solid company.”

“You guys make a great team, Mom. Dad’s ingenuity. Your recipes.”

She turns to me with misty eyes. “Two silly kids meeting at Woodstock, of all places, led to this. The blessing of God overwhelms me.”

Caught up in the sentiment of the moment, I hug Mom. She’s worked as hard as Dad.

“Here’s Earl’s wife, Kitty, with their daughter, Macy.”

Mom and I jerk away from each other. Rhine and the entire Food Connection camera crew are coming right for us.

I smile and half wave, and giggle, I think. I hope not. Mom stands there with a deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Relax,” I whisper out the corner of my mouth.

“I didn’t know I was going to be on national TV dressed like you.”

I knew she didn’t think this thing through.

“Kitty Moore,” Rhine says in his TV-man voice, slipping his arm around Mom’s shoulder.

“Good afternoon, Rhine.” Mom tilts her head and smiles at the camera, then politely, forcibly, shoves me out of the shot.





Chapter Twenty-One




All afternoon the three hundred or so guests roam the country club’s beautiful grounds, talking and taking shade under the magnolias. The breeze is heady with the scent of grilling meat and barbecue sauce.

Rhine is broadcasting from one of the stainless steel grills, eating a chicken wing, grinning and holding up a bottle of my family’s sauce.

“Have Moore sauce,” he says, chuckling.

I find a secluded spot in one of the tents, watching and enjoying the show, proud of my parents’ success.

Across the way I see Cole and Suzanne sharing a table with her folks, Regis and Connie Gellar, eating ribs and potato salad. Cole has a brown dab of sauce on the side of his face, as always.

People who see our family snapshots for the first time always ask, “Cole, did you have this mole on the side of your face removed?”

Yep, with a bar of soap and a washcloth.

Mom dashes up to me. “Macy, please put this in your car. It’s a gift from The Food Connection and I don’t want to lose it.” She shoves a wrapped box into my hands. “I don’t know where your father parked our car, so please, be a love.” She squeezes my shoulders and scurries away.

I go inside to find my purse and keys, then exit the side door and walk slowly to my car, enjoying the breeze and beauty of the day. Springtime in Beauty is gorgeous and fun. I admit I always loved this time of year in my hometown.

There was the Spring Festival. Beauty Days with Saturday In The Park. The art show. Cruising Jasmine Street in Lucy’s car under the blooming magnolias. Waiting for the May day when the public pool opened.

As I near the BMW, I press the unlock button on the remote. Other than my youthful restlessness and zeal to see the world, life in Beauty wasn’t so bad. My memories are pleasant.

“Nice ride.”

I turn to see Dylan striding across the country club’s manicured lawn, a root beer can dangling from his hand. My eyes send messages to my heart—beat faster, beat faster!