The Magnolia Inn(27)

Jolene laughed with her as she handed her a fistful of napkins to wipe her tears away. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” Flossie dabbed at her cheeks. “I’m leaving on that note. They say to always leave the crowd laughin’.”

“Well, you drive careful, and I’ll have the table set when you arrive,” Jolene said.

Flossie put on her coat and waved. “It’s been fun. See y’all Sunday.”

A lady staggered up to the bar. Her jet-black hair was styled even higher than Dotty’s, and what was left of her lipstick had settled into the wrinkles around her mouth. “Give me two Jack and Cokes, and would you please bring them to the table? See that stud over there? He’s goin’ to dance with me and take me home.” She slurred every word. “And then the real party starts.”

Jolene poured a couple of drinks and whispered to Dotty, “Should we take her keys and call someone to take her home?”

“No, she didn’t drive here. She came with a friend and she’ll leave with that man.” Dotty nodded toward the gray-haired cowboy at the table with the woman. “This happens about once a month. Same friend, but a different guy takes her home every time.”

“I wonder if she’s got a daughter at home waiting for her,” Jolene whispered.

“Reminding you of your mother?” Dotty asked.

Jolene nodded and headed down the bar to wait on another customer. She’d never followed her mother to a bar, because she had to work every night. And her mother had never dyed her hair black or worn it styled like that, but the story was the same. There had been a few times that she’d brought the same man home, but not often. When she did get involved for more than one night, it was because the man promised her the moon.

Staring between two men at the bar, she kept an eye on the woman. Jolene had been working a bar not so very different from the Gator for ten years, and she’d seen lots of women make complete fools out of themselves. So why did the memories of her mother surface that night? Maybe it was being back in the area where her mama was born. Or perhaps it was because Jolene needed to get closure.

Dotty touched her on the shoulder. “You okay, kiddo?”

“Fine, just old memories came haunting me,” Jolene admitted.

“It happens.” Dotty gave her another pat and went back to her end of the bar.



Tucker brought the picture of Melanie in from the trailer and set it on his bedside table. The antique lamp didn’t throw enough light to use for reading, but it lit the framed photograph up very well. He stared at it, remembering the day that it had been taken. They’d met at a Fourth of July party given by mutual friends, and the picture had been taken the next year when he proposed to her in that same spot. His eyes grew heavy, and finally he fell asleep, but she didn’t sneak into his dreams.

At three o’clock he sat straight up in bed, every nerve on high alert. Someone was in the trailer—no, the house. He was in his bedroom at the Magnolia Inn, not in the trailer. He eased off the bed, slipped into his jeans, and removed his pistol from the drawer of the nightstand. Holding it to his side, he opened his bedroom door just enough to peek out. A shadow moved toward the center of the foyer. He brought the gun up, and a flash of light almost blinded him.

“What the hell?” he said.

Jolene whipped around. “Sorry I woke you. I tried to be quiet.”

He slung the door all the way open. “I can’t make the same promise when I come home late, but I’ll do my best. How’d the first night at work go?”

“Busy. Made two hundred in tips. That’ll pay the electric bill and put some food in the pantry.” She sat down on a chair at the end of the foyer table and pulled off her boots. “I’m hungry. You want some cereal? There’s the chocolate kind and the fruity one.”

“Sure,” he said. “Give me a minute.”

“To put the gun away or get a shirt on?” she asked.

“I can go as I am,” he offered.

“I might spill the milk.” She headed toward the kitchen in mismatched socks.

“Why?” he asked.

She turned around and shrugged. “I don’t pour too hot with a gun pointed at me or if I get distracted by a man’s sexy chest, so you’d do well to put on a shirt and get rid of the gun.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

The gun went back in the drawer, and he jerked his shirt over his head. She was setting out boxes of cereal on the table when he made it to the kitchen. A memory of Melanie in the kitchen flashed through his mind. He’d loved that woman with all his heart, but the kitchen had looked like a war zone after she cooked. And the high-pitched squeal of the smoke alarm always meant that dinner must be close to ready.

He got the milk from the refrigerator. “Don’t suppose you want coffee just before bed, do you?”

She shook her head. “No, but as tired as I am, it probably wouldn’t keep me from sleeping.”

They ate in silence for the most part. She frowned a lot and cocked her head from one side to the other several times before she shook it in disagreement with whatever voices were in her head. It kind of reminded him of when Sassy needed to be treated for ear mites.

“Are you about to have a seizure or something?” he asked.