The Devine Doughnut Shop(24)

“Well, I hope you’ll be very happy.” A rock that was half the size of the one in Gibraltar was back in Grace’s chest, and she fought the urge to cross her fingers behind her back for telling such a blatant lie.

“Oh, I will be,” Darla Jo said. “I haven’t had such good luck with husbands, but maybe that will change with Edward.”

Lady, do you realize what nickname this town has given you? Grace wondered. You are a black widow. I bet you already had your second rich man picked out when you buried the first one. I’d be willing to lay a bet that they didn’t die of natural causes.

As if Darla Jo could read Grace’s mind, she blinked several times and her chin quivered. “You know how couples are. I loved Edward at one time, but we broke up, and I moved here for a fresh start. But bless him, he and I have worked toward this moment for a decade. Now it’s our turn to be together.”

A decade!

Those words added more weight to the heavy feeling in Grace’s chest. Macy was most likely just the tail end of a long line of cons that would end with Darla Jo and Neal on some island where they couldn’t be extradited back to the United States.

Grace turned around, slipped her phone from her pocket, and sent a text to Travis: It’s not true and it’s a con. Could we talk tonight?



The last dozen doughnuts went out the door at eleven thirty that morning, and Sarah locked the door behind their final customer. “We don’t have time to make more doughnuts, and we’re sold out. I’m going to run up to San Antonio for supplies. The restaurant-supply store closes at three, and we need flour, yeast, and sugar.”

“I’m going home to use some more of Raelene’s oil on my head,” Macy said. “It still feels like one big bruise. Neal is in the air, on his way to California, so we can’t talk until he gets there. I’ll be so glad when we get all this legal stuff done. Y’all are still going to buy out my third of the business, aren’t you?”

“Let’s give that some serious time when I get back,” Sarah said and then shot Grace a look across the room.

“A long nap is calling my name.” Audrey jerked her apron off and tossed it into the bin with the dirty clothes.

“Right after you gather up that load of aprons to take home, wash, and fold for tomorrow. When they’re all done and you’ve had your two hours of tutoring, then you can take a nap,” Grace told her.

“That’s Raelene’s job, not mine,” Audrey protested.

“Raelene takes care of the housework for us. We are responsible for the shop, so this is your job, young lady.” Grace pointed to the laundry bin. “When you get done with those things, then you can have the rest of the day to do whatever you want.”

“What . . . ever!” Audrey said with a head wiggle.

Sarah decided that maybe the universe had been good to her after all in not giving her children back when she was in her early twenties. Sometimes she wanted to wring Audrey’s neck for being so disrespectful, especially to Grace, but she had to admire her sister for the way she handled her daughter.

Audrey can say what she wants about her and her little buddies. They really are mean girls, and Audrey is getting more and more like them. I liked her better before she got tangled up with Crystal and Kelsey, she thought as she added her apron to the bin and headed outside.

She took a moment to breathe in the fresh spring air before she got into her truck. She put all the drama going on at home out of her mind and enjoyed looking at the minty green leaves popping out on the trees as she drove seventy-five miles an hour toward San Antonio. A deer ran across the road far enough ahead of her that it made it safely to the other side. Dark clouds gathered in the southwest, promising rain and possibly a thunderstorm.

“An omen for sure,” she said as she drove through congested traffic to the supply house. The clouds looked even angrier as they rolled toward San Antonio. When she hopped out of the truck, she saw the first streak of lightning and heard the distant rumble of thunder.

She handed her order to the salesclerk, and two young men quickly loaded what she needed into the back seat of her truck. Drops of rain almost the size of saucers splatted on her windshield at the first red traffic light, which seemed to take forever to turn green. Her windshield wipers were going so fast and furious that every form of vehicle—cars, semis, and even motorcycles—seemed to blur together as they crawled to the next red light.

At the sixth one, she slapped the steering wheel and glanced over to the left to see the entrance to the underground parking lot for the hotel where Neal worked as assistant manager.

“Well, well, well!” she grumbled, and on impulse whipped into the underground parking garage. Beezy had said that they should check him out. What better place to start than the place that he managed—or said that he did?

“Why didn’t I think to do this before now?” she asked as she got out of her truck, glad to be out of the downpour and hoping that the storm would have passed on by the time she got through with her little job. She made her way through the parked vehicles to the hotel entrance.

Her mother’s voice popped in her head: Because you were raised to trust people, and he has been so sweet and romantic to Macy this whole time.

“You are so right, Mama, but after this past week, my trust is gone,” she said and then realized that she was talking out loud again. “That’s one good thing about all this technology. Everyone is talking on their phones so much that no one realizes when someone is talking to themselves.”