Page 5

I take a long sip of the tea, the cool liquid spreading through me like butter melting over hot toast. Letting out a long sigh, I relax, turning to the maven next to me to answer her.

“Well, he did come very highly recommended by some random fruit-stand guy I asked for directions.” I chuckle.

Miss Belle starts to speak, then stops, letting me continue.

“But I was on my way here anyway. I work for the Georgia Department of Agriculture, and am going to be helping Dr. Cary Adler of Hayes Industries for a while this summer.”

Miss Belle’s eyes go wide, a knowing but serene smile spreading across her face. At first, I don’t know what to make of it, but there is something so comforting about her presence that I can’t help but continue to talk.

“I came down a couple of days early, thinking I’d get settled and learn my way around town before Monday. I’m originally from Alabama, if that’s not obvious”—I gesture down at my tee—“and have never been to this part of the state. But then, my car apparently had other ideas.”

“Ken’ll get you fixed; don’t worry,” Dolly tells me, handing me a menu.

I don’t bother looking it over, sliding it right back to her. The mention of a BLT earlier when she handed it to Ken was enough to make my mouth water, making this an easy decision.

“Good choice. I had some fresh tomatoes dropped off this morning from the Hayes greenhouse and they are gorgeous!”

Hayes has a greenhouse? Racking my brain, I dig through my mental archives to figure out if this is something I knew.

They’re known in the ag space for three things— peaches, peanuts, and pecans—three of Georgia’s biggest ag exports.

Past that…well, honestly, past that, I don’t know a whole lot about their operation.

No time like the present to learn.

“I didn’t realize that Hayes did other produce,” I toss out casually, hoping it doesn’t make me look ignorant.

“Only locally,” Miss Belle explains. “It’s a bit of a…pet project, if you will, for a couple of the boys who run the agriculture department. They got a wild hair a bunch of summers back and built this greenhouse, wanting to play around with some sort of hybrid breeding or something or other.”

She waves it off, like all the science means nothing to her but that she respects that it’s important to them so she lets them have it. A concept my own family has never understood. Something that only endears me to this stranger even more.

“I’m sure Cary will tell you all about it. He’s rather proud of that thing. And really, he should be. It produces some beautiful veggies.”

“Like these,” Dolly adds, depositing a plate in front of me.

The massive sandwich takes up three-quarters of the plate, the large, bright red tomato slices, looking too good for words, sticking out from under the multi-grain bread.

Homemade multi-grain bread too, by the looks of it.

I take a moment to examine it, the ruby-colored flesh of the tomato the perfect shade, the insides bright and juicy looking, begging to be bitten into.

Everything a perfect summer tomato should be.

“You know Dr. Adler?” I ask, unable to hold back my curiosity.

That knowing smile returns, this time paired with a bit of mischief in her eyes.

A single, soft chuckle escapes from behind Miss Belle’s closed lips, and I can’t tell exactly what might be going on inside her head.

This is one of those moments I wish I had the people skills that Eliza has.

Because maybe I just asked the very wrong question.

Quickly, I pick up the sandwich and take a large bite, hoping that I can buy time in having to react to whatever her response is if I’m chewing. Because that’s about as smooth a move as I have up my sleeve.

Holy shit…that tomato is good…

“Oh yes…” Miss Belle coos. “In fact, I bet I’ve known everyone that you’ll be workin’ with over at Hayes for their entire lives. This is a small town, after all.”

She has a point there. Any townie of a certain age could say that same thing about my siblings, friends, and me back in Hurricane Shoals. Then again, this woman does not look like just any townie.

“Tell me, Sawyer, what do you think of this color?” she asks, changing the subject abruptly.

I take the paint chip she hands me, holding it up to get a better look at it. Watermelon Slice. Well, that’s a name. Although, this color doesn’t resemble a watermelon slice in any way, which makes me wonder if whoever named it has ever actually seen a watermelon.

“It’s…peachy?”

I don’t mean for it to come out as a question, but my voice lifts enough at the end that there’s no way it sounds like anything else. The last thing I want to do is offend this woman, and for all I know, this paint color is her one true love.

“Told you…” Dolly throws over her shoulder as she fiddles with something behind the counter.

Miss Belle sighs, taking the chip from me. “That’s what I was afraid of. I do want something with a little more color to it, but…maybe this is a bit much.”

“If that’s the hue you’re set on, then I think the Deco Shell or Sherbet Fruit are a little better. But I still think Blowing Kisses is my favorite. Although I really love the name Hot Gossip, because I really want to be able to tell the boys that there’s Hot Gossip on the walls.”

Dolly laughs at her own joke, while Miss Belle just shakes her head. I’m more than a little lost—there is clearly some kind of inside joke going on here—but I keep quiet and continue to enjoy my lunch. This is hands down the best BLT I’ve ever had.

Miss Belle holds up a deep, hot-pink paint chip, pursing her lips. “Might be a bit of a hard sell. Maybe as an accent wall in the powder room?”

“What are you painting, exactly?” I ask around a mouthful of BLT.

“My downstairs.” Miss Belle sighs. “My daughter is getting married in August and it’s a bit of a to-do, which means we’re going to have people staying at the house.

Which has not had the interior painted since it was built forty years ago.

And, after six boys, plus Willa, the paint job has seen better days. ”

Six boys? Plus a daughter? That’s seven…holy cow. I swallow hard, the number taking a minute to register. This woman has seven kids? She doesn’t look like she’s had one, much less seven.

“My husband is away on a fishing trip with our youngest son for two weeks, so now is the time to get this done. They finished the upstairs this past week, in this lovely, generic off-white called Swiss Coffee. But I want the downstairs to have a little more life.”

“Hot Gossip there might be too much life,” I comment, the words pouring out of me before I realize what I’m saying.

Shit. “Not that you asked me. Or want my opinion. Because you look like someone who probably knows a lot more about interior design than I do. I don’t know anything, really.

Unless it has to do with soil and crop regeneration. ”

Shit, now I’m rambling. Great job, Sawyer.

“I like you, Sawyer.” A new, even bigger, warmer smile spreads across Miss Belle’s face. The kind of smile a mom gives when she’s proud. “And I think you are just what those boys over in the ag lab need.”

I freeze. Not sure what I did for that stamp of approval, but I’ll take it. I think.

Because I’m hoping that the woman I have halfway befriended here is someone who has pull in this town, maybe even with Hayes, rather than the town gossip. For all I know I’ve been served up on a platter to the town crier, ready and willing to tell my tale to all who will listen.

A sharp trill cuts through the air, the preprogrammed melody sounding tinny as Miss Belle jumps and starts to dig through her purse for her phone.

“Ken,” she greets, her voice smooth and even. “She’s right here.”

Passing me the phone, she nods, indicating it’s for me. Uh-oh.

“Hello?”

“Hiya, Miss Sawyer, Ken Noble here. I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

I swallow hard. That is not what I wanted to hear.

“Bad news, you need a new compressor, and I unfortunately don’t have any on hand. Good news is my son-in-law is on his way back to town and can stop and grab one on his way through either Atlanta or Macon. I should have her as good as new first thing Monday morning for you.”

First thing Monday morning? Gulp…

That is not the news I wanted to hear. Being without a car, even for a day, is going to suck. Now I really need to figure out where this motel is and if I’m able to hoof it over there. And ask what he means by “first thing Monday. ”

Ken must be able to sense my panic, because he continues.

“I can take you to wherever you’re staying, and then pick you up on Monday morning to get your car. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Thanks.” I sigh. It’s not ideal, but I’ll find a way to make it work. “I’m staying at a place called the Ramblers’ Rest. Have you?—”

“Excuse me?” Miss Belle interrupts. My head whips over to look at her, the put-together Southern belle suddenly looking a lot more stern. “Hayes is putting you up at the Ramblers’ Rest?”

There’s a sharpness to her question that I know indicates she means business. Shit.

“Yes?”

“No.”

If I thought her voice was sharp before, I was wrong. That simple two-letter word is like a razor, cutting through everything around us, leaving no room for argument.

“Unacceptable,” she continues, taking the phone back from me. “Ken, Sawyer is going to stay with me. Call Jace. He will come get her things and bring them to Magnolia Manor. End of.”

End of. I wasn’t aware there was a start of, to be honest. But apparently now I’m staying at someplace called Magnolia Manor. Which sounds very fancy. Much fancier than a place that would have a powder room in the color Hot Gossip.

“I don’t want to intrude,” I start, my manners taking over.

“Nonsense,” Miss Belle says, holding a hand up.

“I have a whole house with four and a half empty bedrooms. It’s a bit of a mess at the moment thanks to the whole painting situation, but that will be rectified by the end of the week.

It’ll be nice having another girl in the house again.

Most importantly, we absolutely cannot have you staying at the Ramblers’ Rest.”

She shudders as she says that last bit, leaving me feeling like maybe I just escaped a stay at the Bates motel.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Reaching over, she places her hand on mine, squeezing. “And I cannot wait to introduce you to the rest of the family. You’re gonna fit right in. I can tell.”

Here’s hoping…