Page 5

“Nonsense. It’s perfect. You have a gift.” She nods slowly. “Which means you’ll be leaving us soon. Heading to the big city where you can make some real money with your art degree.”

I pull her shawl around her shoulders. I’ve actually considered moving before, but I can’t leave my mom… Or something.

“Oprah says if you don’t know what to do, be still.”

“I know that handsome young man Deacon Dring is from Dallas.” Her eyes slant, and she’s grinning again like she knows something.

She doesn’t.

Everyone thinks Deacon and I are dating, and I guess we have gone out a few times. Still, our relationship is strictly platonic. The truth is we’re both in the same boat when it comes to love, and misery loves company.

“Deacon is from Plano, which is just outside Dallas.”

“Is he the reason you’re so distracted these days?”

No. Again, I don’t say it out loud. Instead, I feign innocence. “Am I distracted?”

She gives my arm a squeeze. “You’re a smart girl, Mindy. I know you won’t let some boy determine your future. You’ll do what’s right for you.”

If only that were true. I suppose if she knew the full story, she wouldn’t be announcing her confidence in me so emphatically. But when you keep secrets, you have to be prepared to be misunderstood.

“Tell you what, I won’t move away without giving you plenty of notice. Okay?” She grins, and I squeeze her thin shoulders. “Night.”

It’s only five, but most of the residents have had their suppers and are getting ready for bed—the ones who are mobile, that is.

I retrace the familiar hallway to my desk just inside the front door. I’ve worked at the nursing home since I was a junior in high school, all through college, even now, after graduation, while I’m “figuring out my next steps”—which has lasted longer than it should.

I view it as a steady paycheck while I pick up freelance design jobs and do my own watercolors on the side. Harristown isn’t big enough to support a thriving arts community, but we get the yearly burst of tourists every summer around Peach Festival time who buy my art.

Peaches. Harristown is known for peaches, and my best friend’s family operates the biggest orchard in town—they have since before we were born, since before her parents died and her oldest brother Sawyer took over running the place.

My bottom lip slips between my teeth, and I glance up at the clock as I slowly collect my things, setting the jar of royal jelly on the edge of my desk.

Noel comes rushing through the glass front doors just as I’m slinging my purse over my shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey! No worries.” We give each other a quick hug and air kisses. “Everything okay? How’s Dove?”

Noel’s daughter was an unexpected burst of sunshine that appeared six years ago. I’d always thought of surprise pregnancies as a bad thing. I’m not so sure I feel that way anymore. At least not every time.

“Dove is Dove.” She pushes a smooth lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. Noel has perfect hair, which I do not envy. Much. “She’s practicing for the Princess Peach pageant nonstop, singing every Dolly Parton song she knows…”

“You have your mamma to thank for that.”

Noel’s mamma was a legend around here. When she was our age, she won every beauty pageant in the region, and she probably would have been Miss Louisiana and then Miss America if Noel’s daddy hadn’t put a ring on it.

Noel has never liked the pageant scene, but her daughter is hilariously precocious and the exact opposite.

“I guess liking things like pageants skips a generation. Oh!” her eyes light and she picks up the jar of bee product. “Yesss.” She turns it back and forth, gazing at it like it’s pure gold.

I can’t resist. “I’m pretty sure that stuff comes out of their butts.”

“Bee butts are so cute.”

“Or they vomit it up.”

“Don’t be gross.” She shoves the jar in her oversized bag. “I’m launching a whole new anti-aging line. Royal jelly provides a younger and clearer appearance to the skin.”

She passes me a twenty, and I shove it in my pocket. “You know Ma would never charge you for it.”