The Magnolia Inn(33)

Columbus, Georgia

Five days after leaving Jefferson, Jasper and Sugar reached the Georgia line. Sugar awoke in the middle of the night and eased out of bed. She poured herself a glass of milk, opened the mini blinds above the booth-type table to look at the stars, and imagined her niece sitting at the table back in Jefferson, having a late-night snack before she went to bed. Tucker was there, but she could only see him in his stained jeans and shirt, like the picture Jolene had sent. He was a good-looking man with all that dark hair.

Her phone was lying on the table, so she picked it up and brought up the photograph again. Tucker looked happy. She flipped past that one to one of Jolene with a smudge of dirt on her face. Without thinking, Sugar tried to wipe it away with a fingertip.

“God, I miss home so much. I’m so homesick I could just cry,” she muttered and then checked to be sure that she hadn’t awakened Jasper.

What had she been thinking, leaving the place where she’d been born and lived her whole life? She had roots, not wings. She didn’t necessarily want to go back to the inn, but she did want to go home.

Where are you going to live? a pesky voice in her head asked.

A few keystrokes on her phone brought up Dixie Realty. In only a few minutes she’d found several suitable places. She and Jasper didn’t need a big house. Just a small one with two bedrooms would be fine. Jolene had her own place now, and Sugar’s friends wouldn’t be coming to spend the night.

Tears flooded Sugar’s cheeks when she saw that the house next door to Flossie’s was on the market. She’d been in that place when she was a little girl. It might be an older home, but it had been well maintained. She wanted to live there, next door to Flossie, but that was all a big pipe dream. Jasper had had his heart broken when Reuben sold his half of the inn. Sugar couldn’t be the one to break it again. This gypsy lifestyle had been his dream for years, so she’d have to brace up and get over the homesickness—for his sake.





Chapter Nine

Please excuse our mess. We’re remodeling,” Jolene said as she swung the door open before the ladies even knocked. She was glad to see these old gals. That they’d taken her under their wings and made her a part of their world meant more than they’d ever know.

“That sounds just like something Sugar would say. She called me last night, and Jasper is doing better now.” Lucy carried in a box filled with something that gave off a delicious aroma. “I brought green bean casserole, rice, and salad.”

Flossie came in behind her with a slow cooker. “I made my famous meatballs. I’m still mad at Reuben for what he did, but I’m glad he’s not here.”

Dotty brought up the rear. “I like to bake more than I like to cook. Like I’ve said before, I can cook, just like I can clean the bathrooms in the bar, but that don’t mean I like either one. Anyway, my job is always dessert. Today we have chocolate cake.”

Tucker took the box from Lucy. “Well, it all smells amazing. I’m starving. All Jolene would fix me for breakfast was a few scrambled eggs and some toast.”

“I don’t feel a bit sorry for you. You should have learned to cook,” Lucy declared.

“I never learned to cook because I was learnin’ how to put up drywall and repairin’ floors and workin’ all kinds of crazy hours as a detective.” Tucker’s drawl was more pronounced than ever. “I didn’t have time to do everything, and besides, I ate a lot of fast food. Anyway, I’m real grateful for sweet ladies from Texas like y’all who bring Sunday dinner to me.”

“Don’t you try to sweet-talk me, boy.” Lucy shook a forefinger under his nose. “And I wouldn’t even give that recipe to Sugar, so don’t ask. It’s an old family recipe from down in southern Cajun country.”

“What if he was a preacher? Would you deny the recipe to a man of the cloth?” Dotty asked.

“I wouldn’t deny God anything. He’s saved my soul,” Lucy declared.

“I’ll give you my recipe for the meatballs. Sugar found it in an old cookbook of her mama’s, and we been making them for years.” Flossie grinned.

Dotty cocked her head to one side. “I’m surprised that you’re goin’ to partake of them, Lucy. You know they’ve got half a can of beer in them, and if you’re goin’ to fuss at us about our sins, then you should practice what you preach. And by the way, was that a virgin daiquiri that you drank in the Gator last night?”

“Oh, hush!” she growled. “Just because Ezra’s death caused me to reevaluate my standing with the good Lord does not mean I can’t have a mixed drink or eat meatballs with a little beer in them.”

“You didn’t mourn long. You’re already eyeballing another man,” Dotty argued.

She stuck her nose in the air. “Ezra would want me to be happy.”

“Lucy, you’ve been doing this for the past twenty years,” Flossie said. “You get a boyfriend. He dies or breaks up with you. We have to go to every church in town so you can be right with the Lord. It’s time for it to stop. We like our own church, where we’ve all gone since we were little kids.”

“But what if it’s not the right one for the Lord to hear my repentin’ for bein’ a loose woman with a man?” Lucy asked as she helped get the food on the table.