“Me, too, Daddy,” she said. “Me, too.”

Chapter Sixteen

Jody sat in one of two old lawn chairs in the middle of a bare spot where her trailer used to be parked. Less than two weeks ago she was in a committed relationship. In some ways it seemed more like ten years, but sitting there, the pain was still very raw. To her right, what was left of her garden had shriveled up and looked like a bed of weeds. Ruts were dug deep into the ground where the trailer had been taken out right over the top of all the plants that she’d cared for so lovingly.

“It’s a testimony of my life right there,” she said. “Smashed and dead.”

“Excuse me?” A man’s voice seemed to come from the white clouds above her.

It startled her so badly she almost fell backward in the chair. She glanced to her left to see a man with one foot braced against a big pecan tree, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I might ask you the same thing.” He removed his cowboy hat and wiped sweat from his brow with a snow-white handkerchief he took from the hip pocket of his Wranglers.

“I’m Jody Andrews and until ten days ago, I lived with Lyle Jones in the trailer that set right here.” Her tone sounded cold even to her own ears.

“I see. Mind if I sit down?” He held his hat in his hand. “I’m Quincy Roberts.”

She nodded toward the other chair. “I hear you’re going to buy this property. Is that true?” Jody asked.

“I’m dealing with Lyle for it. It’s the last little corner, and I’d like to have it, but we’re haggling over mineral rights. Even though I’m not interested in drilling for oil, I don’t buy anything that doesn’t totally belong to me,” Quincy said. “I heard about how Lyle left you high and dry. Why on earth would you come back out here?”

“Closure,” she answered. “Seeing my garden like this with nothing left of a fifteen-year commitment but two old lawn chairs almost does it for me.” She pushed up out of the lawn chair. “What are you going to do with this land, anyway?”

“Run cattle on it. Maybe even a few hogs,” he said. “I’m an oil man, but I like to get my hands dirty. It makes me happy. What are you doing now that Lyle’s married to another woman?”

Hogs! Stinky old pigs wallowing in a mud puddle in the hot summer. Now that could bring her to the acceptance stage pretty damn quick. She took a few steps toward her old truck. “What do I do? Well, Mr. Roberts, I’m not sitting at home, wasting away to nothing. I’m a strong woman, and I’ve got good friends. If you see Lyle you can tell him that. If you’re asking what I do for a living, I make custom wedding dresses for plus-sized women.”

“What are plus-sized women?” He got up and followed her to her truck.

She turned around. “Larger ladies. Everyone deserves a perfect dress.”

“Everyone deserves a perfect life. Guess you didn’t get it, did you?”

“Bit of a smart-ass, aren’t you?” She leaned against the truck. “Do any of us ever get a perfect life? Is there even such a thing?”

“Not in my world,” Quincy chuckled. “And I’ve been called worse. So where are you living now?”

“My partners in the business and I live above the shop. It’s in an old two-story house on Main Street. Shop is on the ground floor,” she told him.

His eyes went to the pitiful garden. “What happened to that little garden is a shame. I know what it takes to keep one weeded and watered.”

According to what she’d heard, Quincy could buy the town of Celeste, have it bulldozed, and then turn the whole thing into a hog pen. Why would he even have a backyard garden?

“You looked surprised. I told you I like to get my hands dirty,” he said.

“Me, too, and I’m sure I’ll miss having a place for one next spring,” she said. “It’s nice to have met you, Mr. Roberts.”

“My friends call me Quincy,” he said.

“But we’re not friends,” she told him, but she wondered what it would be like to get to know him better.

“We could be, Jody.” He settled his hat back onto his head. “Is it okay if I call you Jody?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “Like I said . . . Quincy . . . it’s a pleasure to meet you. And just a heads-up, Lyle is anxious to sell, so hold out for those mineral rights.” She didn’t care if Lyle even got fair market price for the place, because she’d never get anything out of it.

“Oh, I will. I don’t give up easily.” He tipped his hat toward her and turned around.

She could see a white pickup truck on the far side of the property. She’d probably been thinking so hard about how she’d like to strangle Lyle that she hadn’t even heard it when Quincy drove up.

She stopped at the snow-cone stand on her way back through town and got three with lids—all rainbow with cherry, coconut, and grape—then drove straight home so she’d get there before they all turned to nothing but liquid.

“Hello! Y’all home?” she called out as she kicked the back door shut with the heel of her cowboy boot.

“Up here in the living room,” Mitzi yelled.