“See y’all later.” Mitzi escaped back into the house to find Ellie Mae sipping sweet tea and having an Oreo.

What a day, Mitzi thought as she sank down onto the sofa across from Paula and Ellie Mae. Instead of floating on air because Graham kissed me, I’m wrung out from all this drama. I wonder if he thinks I’m still a virgin—that since I’m a larger woman, no man would’ve ever wanted to go to bed with me.

“I’ve got to make a bathroom run,” Paula said as she pushed up from the sofa. “Too much lemonade this afternoon.”

“I understand, and I think Mama might be getting suspicious about me needing to go so often,” Ellie Mae said. “This tastes even better than ice cream.”

Mitzi suddenly felt guilty because she hadn’t thought to get out a quart of ice cream and four spoons. That was the standard problem solver in her friendship with Paula and Jody. “Would you like a bowl of ice cream?”

Ellie Mae took another cookie from the package. “Not when I can have these. I’m a chocoholic.”

Paula covered the short distance from the small half bath at the end of the foyer and sat down beside Ellie Mae. “Sometimes ice cream works. Sometimes it takes cookies. Feelin’ better? Ready to talk to him now?”

“Not yet. He really hurt my feelings,” Ellie Mae said.

Jody came inside at the same time someone knocked on the back door.

“I bet that’s Granny.” Mitzi headed that way, not ready to talk about the Rita-and-Graham situation with Fanny Lou but glad for an excuse to get away from the foyer drama again. She practiced her we’re taking it real slow speech all the way through the kitchen. No way was she telling her granny about the kisses.

She unlocked the door and opened it to find Clinton Ballard. His face was set in stone, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

“May I help you?” Her tone dripped icicles, but she couldn’t help it.

He opened the screen door. “I want to talk to Paula.”

Mitzi blocked his way into the kitchen. “Too bad. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“So she told you about us, did she?” he growled.

“Yep, so we all know you’re a son of a bitch,” Mitzi answered.

“I’m going to talk to her.” He started to push his way past her.

Mitzi put her hands on his chest and walked him right back outside. “You can wait right here. I’ll see if she wants to even lay eyes on you. If not, then you’ll have sixty seconds to get off our property.”

“Or what?” He threw open the door again.

“Or I’ll call the police. If they get here before I can load my shotgun, I’ll let them take you to jail. If not, then they can call the coroner,” Mitzi answered.

“Just go get her and stop making threats,” he growled.

Mitzi reached for the gun hanging above the door on two hooks and racked in a shell.

He put up both hands and stammered, “Take it easy, lady. And for your information, I am a policeman.”

“Not in Celeste, you’re not. You stay right there while I ask Paula if she’d like to visit with you.” Mitzi slammed the door in his face. She stopped at the cabinet, took down the tequila, had two big gulps right out of the bottle to steady her nerves, and laid the shotgun on the table. If Ellie Mae saw the gun, she might take it away from her and shoot Darrin. Then she made her way to the foyer and told Paula that someone was there to see her.

Paula raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Clinton Ballard is at the back door. The shotgun is loaded and right there if you need it. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes.” Paula’s chin quivered. “Why would he come here?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Ellie Mae, we’ve got some business to take care of but we’ll be right back,” Mitzi said.

“I’m okay,” Ellie Mae whimpered. “But you won’t be gone long, will you?”

“No, honey,” Paula answered. “Just a few minutes. Can we bring you anything when we come back?”

“No, I’ve got cookies right here.” She tried to smile.

“Okay, then.” Mitzi patted her on the shoulder and then almost jogged to the kitchen. She picked up the gun as they passed the table.

“She says you might have a word or two, but you’re to stay on the porch,” Mitzi told him as she took a couple of steps to the side so he could see Paula.

“It took you long enough,” he growled as he reached for the door.

“Oh, no!” Mitzi pointed the gun right at his crotch. “Don’t even think about coming inside.”

“Do we have to talk through a screen door? Can’t I come inside the house?” he asked. “Paula, I need to talk to you privately.”

“Whatever you’ve got to say to me can be said in front of Mitzi, and if she says we keep the screen between us, then that’s what we do,” Paula told him.

“Okay, then. I’m sorry that I led you on, but I was lonely. Kayla was sick all the time, and I was trying to take care of my father, and—”

Paula held up a palm. “Real apologies don’t need buts, ifs, or ands. You should’ve been honest with me, Clinton.”

“I know.” He ducked his head, but it wasn’t very convincing.