“I asked him to go to church with us tomorrow mornin’. There’s room on the pew where y’all sit for him, isn’t there?” Ginger asked.

“Of course, and you know you’re welcome anytime.” Betsy smiled. “But you don’t have to decide right now. Just show up and then come to Sunday dinner with us afterwards. Right now you kids need to wash your hands. Supper is on the table, and I know you’re hungry after all that work that Connie made you do. Downright crazy to tear a room to pieces like that, if you ask me, but did anyone ask me? Oh, no!” She muttered all the way back to the kitchen.

When they were gathered around the table, sitting in their normal spots, Connie said a short prayer, and then Betsy ladled up homemade chicken noodle soup in all their bowls. Kate passed a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches that had been cut diagonally around the table and then a relish tray.

“Save room for strawberry shortcakes,” Betsy said. “I had too many berries for the batch of jam I made today, so I whipped up a sponge cake to use for the bottom layer.”

“There goes my idea for taking all you ladies up to the snow cone stand this evening,” Sloan said. “We’ll all be too full for that.”

“Can we have a rain check and go after dinner tomorrow?” Kate asked.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sloan said. “If I go to church with y’all, would you let me drive you into Hondo and take y’all out to Sunday dinner? You’ve been so good to feed me extra meals this week, and I’d sure like to repay you.”

“If . . . ,” Kate said, “you promise to sit with us tomorrow, we would be honored to go to that pizza place in Hondo that has a big buffet dinner, and you can drive for us.”

What changed his mind about church? Ginger wondered. Could it be that he was finally realizing a terrorist had killed his friends, and that neither he, nor God, could have stopped it from happening?

“Why that place? We could go to a nice steak house,” Sloan asked.

“Because Betsy can’t make pizza worth eating,” Connie answered. “Anything else she can cook for us right here. Pizza is a treat.”

“I’ve been craving pizza ever since I got pregnant,” Ginger said when she felt all their eyes on her. “I’ve never tried to make it myself, but I sure do love it.”

“Okay, then.” Sloan nodded. “I’ll be here at a quarter to eleven to drive you ladies to church.”

Ginger wondered what the folks who were already spreading gossip would make of them all arriving together. Lord have mercy! If she and Sloan even sat beside each other, the cell towers between Rooster and Hondo might flat-out explode.

Chapter Twelve

Ginger tried to concentrate on the short shopping list she’d made, but it was nearly an impossibility with Sloan sitting right next to her on the church pew. His shaving lotion—something woodsy and wonderful smelling—wafted over to her every time he moved even the slightest bit. With a sigh she forced herself to look straight ahead and not at him. That didn’t last more than a minute, and she went back to stealing sideways glances at him. To everyone else, it looked like he was paying attention to the preacher’s words, but he didn’t fool Ginger one bit. His mind was wandering just like hers—only she’d bet that he wasn’t thinking about her like she was him.

She forced herself to make a mental shopping list for when they went back to Hondo. She needed a dress that she could wear now, but also after the baby came—maybe one of those new little knit numbers that skimmed the knees. She had one suitable outfit for church other than her Easter dress from last week. If she was going to attend every week, she should have at least four so that she wouldn’t wear the same thing all the time. She also wanted to get a cell phone. It didn’t have to be fancy and have all the smart features on it, but it did need to be better than the one that she had to pay to add minutes to.

Then she should probably get a few things for the baby. If she spit up like that little guy did in her last foster home, it would take several gowns or outfits each day. Thank goodness there was a washer and dryer at the Banty House.

That worked for maybe three or four minutes, and then she went right back to thinking about Sloan. He sat so close to her that light couldn’t make its way between their bodies. He’d dressed in starched jeans, a blue plaid shirt the color of his eyes, and tan cowboy boots that morning. Ginger had visions of women gathering around him like flies on an open sugar bowl as soon as services were over.

Did other people have wandering thoughts like she did? She glanced to her left, where Kate sat at the end of the pew. Was she thinking about loving her neighbor, or was she figuring out how to make adjustments to her recipe for blackberry moonshine? Connie was next in the lineup. While Ginger was watching, she removed a tissue from her purse and dusted the tops of the hymnals. Betsy’s expression left no doubt that she wasn’t hearing a word the preacher was saying, and Ginger would have bet dollars to doughnuts that she was devising a new way to make her pizza as good as what they’d eat after church.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Sloan whispered softly in her ear.

“It would take more than that to get me to talk, especially in church,” she answered.

He smiled and put his arm around her on the back of the pew and let his hand fall onto her shoulder. She heard a few buzzes behind them, but when the preacher cleared his throat, they ceased pretty dang quickly.

The aroma of pepperoni, sausage, cheese, and hot marinara sauce made Kate’s mouth water when she got out of the back seat of the car with her two sisters. The place had been in business since she was thirty, and she’d loved it from the first time she and Max had met there. The place had changed hands a dozen or more times in the past fifty years, but it still held the honor of being the first pizza place in Medina County, Texas.

They wound up sitting at a round table for five next to the booth where she and Max had sat that Sunday evening. Their first date—and their last—had been in the same place, but she wasn’t going to think about him. Today was all about Ginger and Sloan. There was definitely a spark between them, and she intended to fan it as much as possible.

“Granny loved to come here,” Sloan said.

“It was a treat for us when it first went into business,” Kate said. “The first owners had a picture of me and your granny sitting beside the cash register. We were the first customers who pushed the doors open.”

“I don’t remember that.” Betsy took a bite of a wedge of meat lover’s pizza.

“You were at Woodstock, and Connie was helping with a funeral dinner at the church that day,” Kate reminded them.

“Oh, that’s right. That’s when Theo Williams died. Poor guy was only twenty-eight when he fell off that horse and hit his head on a rock. You know, I had a crush on him when we were younger,” Connie admitted. “He kissed me behind the schoolhouse when I was thirteen, and I liked it.”

“Why didn’t y’all ever get married?” Sloan asked.

“Just never happened,” Kate answered. “Maybe we were all too picky.” She thought about Max—but that was in the past, and should be left there.

“We were too sheltered,” Betsy said. “Mama kept us close to her, and we were kind of socially backward. None of us had much outside social interest except for Sunday-morning church.”

“Besides, just exactly who’d want to marry someone who lived in the Banty House?” Connie asked. “Personally, I have no regrets about my past. We might have had our sorrows, but for the most part, we’ve been happy.”

“I’m going to do that,” Ginger declared.

“Do what?” Kate asked.

“Be happy instead of dwelling on all the hard times,” she answered. “Sloan?”

“I’m not there yet, but I’m workin’ on it,” he said.

Kate smiled and nodded in agreement. “We’ve all been blessed.”

“Amen,” Connie and Betsy said at the same time.

But there is a bittersweet part of my heart that wishes I was the one Max chose, Kate found herself thinking. I could have had kids, grandkids, and maybe even great-grandchildren at this time in my life. Maybe if I’d been his wife, he wouldn’t have passed away before he was seventy, and we’d be making moonshine together.

“You look sad, Kate,” Ginger said.

“Just woolgathering.” Kate smiled, and wondered what it was about Ginger that seemed to bring out the past. Neither of her sisters had any idea about Max. It was the one secret that she might even take to her grave. Surprisingly enough, not even the seasoned gossipers knew that she’d dated him all those years ago.

Betsy pushed her empty plate to the middle of the table. “I’m ready for my Sunday-afternoon nap. You kids are going to have to go get snow cones without me.”

“Me too,” Connie said. “You can drop us at the house.”