The Magnolia Inn(39)

No! I will not get involved with someone who is still in love with his dead wife and who drinks. Lord knows I’ve already been through enough in that department—maybe not with the wife issue, but with the other.

“Time to open.” Dotty signaled to Mickey to unlock the doors.

In minutes there was a group of young folks on the floor line dancing to “Cotton Eye Joe.” The stools quickly filled, and people were lined up three deep waiting on drinks.

“Goin’ to be another busy one,” Dotty said as she pulled two pitchers of beer. “I should’ve hired a hot young bartender years ago.”

“Oh, hush.” Jolene hip bumped her.

“And, honey, don’t judge Tucker too hard. I’ve been where he is. It ain’t an easy place to be. He’s got to work through the fog before he can see the light,” Dotty said.

“I’m not judging.” Jolene reached for a bottle of Patrón tequila. “But I’m not his keeper.”

“You might be more than his keeper. You and the Magnolia might be his salvation,” Dotty said.

“Don’t know about that, but when we close up, I’ll show you the pictures of what we got done this week on my phone,” Jolene said. “Aunt Sugar loves it, but I hear a little reservation in her voice about Tucker. Did she say anything to you?”

“It’ll slow down in a little bit, and you can show me then. And Sugar is worried about him. She wants to help him get through his problems. You know how she is. Your aunt sees good in everyone, even Reuben. Anyway, she thinks Tucker was led to the Magnolia so he can realize he has a problem. But she and Jasper are mad at Reuben, and a little aggravated at Tucker for buying him out so fast. If Reuben hadn’t had such an easy out, then maybe he would have partnered with you, and then you could have helped him.”

“I don’t think there’s help for Reuben. But I do know that Tucker needs to move on.”

Dotty shrugged. “You both need to do just that.”

Jolene started to say something but stopped when she saw Lucy and a distinguished-looking elderly man coming straight toward the bar.

Lucy threw up a hand and made a beeline for an empty barstool. “Hi, sweetie. I want you to meet Everett. We’re here to dance more than drink, but if you’d make us one of those daiquiris that you made me and Flossie the other night, we’d love it. And”—she leaned across the bar—“do not let me drink more than one. Kick me out if I even order a second one.”

“Hello.” Everett stuck a hand over Lucy’s shoulder. “I’d rather have a rum and Coke.”

“I’m Jolene,” she said. “Two drinks comin’ right up.”

“I see an empty table. I’ll grab it and wait for you there.” Everett handed Jolene a bill. “Keep the change.”

“Did I really sing ‘Ninety-Nine Sips of Wine’?” Lucy asked.

Jolene nodded. “And you decided that Tucker was a good boy and not the devil.”

“They goaded me into proving I could drink and I can’t, but I forgive them because it was for a good reason. Flossie and Dotty got it started, but it was Sugar who really lined me out. I feel like a rock has been lifted from my soul.” Lucy picked up the two drinks. “And that’s not the preacher. He’s the man who came into my shop last week and asked me out. I wouldn’t make a good preacher’s wife, you know.”

Jolene smiled. “I’m glad you feel better, and you didn’t even call me for the hangover cure.”

Lucy leaned over the bar and whispered, “I was too ashamed to call, honey, but if I ever make that mistake again, I sure will.”

Everett was tall, like Lucy—lanky, like Lucy. And he had a cute little gray mustache and mischievous blue eyes. Lucy had better be careful, Jolene thought, or she might be doing more than dancing with that handsome old guy.

She caught a glimpse of them every little bit, and they looked like they were having a great time. They were both very good at two-stepping and swing dancing, but they sat out the line dances. Neither of them came back to order another drink, so it looked like Lucy really had learned her lesson, for a little while at least. Now that she and Dotty had both been in the intervention spotlight, Jolene couldn’t help but wonder when it would be Flossie’s turn—or if Sugar had ever had it shined on her.



Jolene stumbled into the kitchen the next morning looking, Tucker noticed, like the last rose of summer a big old hound dog had hiked his leg on. Tucker smiled at his grandpa’s old adage.

“Mornin’,” she grumbled.

He pointed at the coffeepot. “Just made a fresh pot. I drank what I made earlier while I was figuring out what we need to get ready for work on Monday.”

She poured a cup and sat down at the table with a groan. “And what do we need?”

“We should go to the paint store in Marshall. You could pick out the paint for this first bedroom so that we’ll have it on hand when we’re ready for it. I’m thinking that instead of peeling off all that old wallpaper, plaster, and lathing, we just put up drywall over it. If you want to feminize it, you could put a border around the ceiling, but wallpaper is a real bitch to hang and to maintain.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said.

“We could get a burger or maybe hit a pizza buffet for lunch. My treat,” he said.