“I may never be able to think that way,” Jennie Sue admitted.

Mabel laid a hand on Jennie Sue’s shoulder and whispered, “I’ll take over the job of manning the door now. I’m finished in the kitchen.”

“I’d rather man the door or hide in the corner,” Jennie Sue said.

“But that’s not what you should do. You go on and visit with everyone. This is a good thing you are doing. It will bring a little closure to a lot of people.” Mabel put her hands on Jennie Sue’s shoulders and turned her toward the living room. “It’s only for an hour or so.”

She did what she was told. She mingled among the people, hugging some and shaking hands with others. She caught bits of conversation as she moved around the room shaking hands, giving hugs, and being nice. Folks wondering if she’d be able to hold the oil business together, if Percy would come back and try to win her heart again, what she’d do with the big house, and if she’d still continue with her silly house cleaning jobs.

Finally, after a while, she escaped to the porch. She’d bypassed the bar and headed straight to an empty lounge chair when Cricket reached up and touched her hand. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be playin’ nice with all the people?”

“I can’t stand any more. Move over and share the lounge with me.”

Cricket scooted to one side, and Jennie Sue stretched out beside her, finding comfort in being close to a new friend—one free of the history foaming in the other room.

“Want a beer?” Cricket asked. “I helped myself to a bottle.”

“I don’t want to get it. Someone might see me, and the party will flow out here,” Jennie Sue whispered. “I’d just rather sit here beside you for a while.”

Cricket handed her bottle over to Jennie Sue. “We can share.”

She took it from her and downed several long gulps. “You’re not afraid of my uppity germs?”

“Not if you aren’t afraid you’ll get cooties from me,” Cricket said. “I’m not sure what I expected tonight, but it wasn’t this.”

She handed the bottle back to Cricket. “Me neither. Most of them aren’t even talkin’ about Mama or Daddy.”

“Someone asked me if you were going to run the company yourself or if you would only be a figurehead,” Cricket whispered.

“I haven’t let myself think about that. I’m just trying to get through the funeral. What would you do?” Jennie Sue asked.

Cricket took a drink and passed the bottle back to her. “Don’t ask me about a decision that big. I might give you the wrong advice. Just this house intimidates the devil out of me. I can’t imagine owning it and the cars and a multimillion-dollar oil company.”

“Me neither,” Jennie Sue sighed.

“I heard one of those Belle ladies fussin’ about there not bein’ a memorial. She thought it was disgraceful and totally inappropriate,” Cricket said. “I thought about tripping her with my crutch.”

“Tough. I bet they won’t like it when I pass on joining the Belles, either.” Jennie Sue finished off the beer and set the bottle on the floor. “Money is not the most important thing in the world. I’ve proven that these past few weeks.”

“But it’s nice to have enough that you don’t have to worry whether to buy fries with your burger at the café,” Cricket told her.

Jennie Sue let that soak in for a few minutes before she slung her legs to the side of the lounge and said, “Let’s don’t think about pennies and dimes tonight. Let’s get through this next half hour. They’ll all leave by then, and Rick will be back from the farm pretty soon. I vote that we have a late-night swim in the pool.”

She knew he had to harvest. After all, he’d let it go the night before, but she missed him. He steadied her nerves just by standing beside her. This was the last night she planned to stay in the house.

“Can’t go swimming. No bathing suit,” Cricket said.

“There’s plenty in the bathhouse. All sizes and shapes.” The thought of skinny-dipping and a picture of the swimming hole flashed through her mind. Then she felt guilty all over again for thinking of that at such a time.

“Then you’ve got a deal as long as I can stay out here and not have to go back in there with the mob.” Cricket grinned.

Jennie Sue sighed. “Mob is right, in more ways than one.”

Just as she’d predicted, the house was empty in another half hour. She sent Mabel home with the promise that she’d put away the perishable snacks before she went to bed. “And you stay home tomorrow. If we want something to eat, we’ll either eat what’s here, cook for ourselves, or go to the café. Besides, I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow, so you don’t have to cook for anyone or do much around here.”

“No arguments here,” Mabel agreed. “I’m so tired, my butt is draggin’. I may not even make it to church tomorrow. I overheard lots of talk about what you intend to do with the company tonight. My advice would be to listen to your heart.”

“I intend to do just that, now shoo! Go home and get some rest.” Jennie Sue hugged her.

“And don’t get in a hurry about anything, darlin’. You need to think about things before you act,” Mabel said as she headed out the back door.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jennie Sue called out.

Rick came inside seconds after Mabel left. “I stopped to talk to Frank in the garage just as the last of the cars left.”

“Hungry?” Jennie Sue asked. “There’s lots of food left.”

“Yep.” He nodded.

“Me, too,” Jennie Sue said. “All those people made me nervous, and I couldn’t eat. Let’s go sit down at the table and have some food. I’ll get Cricket in from the porch, and after we eat we’re going swimming.”

“No bathing suit,” he said.

“No worries. We keep a closet full of them in the bathhouse.”

Rick’s hands began to sweat, and suddenly he didn’t think he could swallow a single bite of food. He’d always worn long-sleeve shirts to cover his scars, only rolling them up halfway to his elbows when it got really hot. Jennie Sue knew he had scars, but she’d only seen the one on his jawline. What was between him and her would be over before it had hardly even gotten started if she saw his body. He needed more time with her before he took this step. He couldn’t go out there in swim trunks—he just couldn’t.

It’s time to come out of your shell. It sounded an awful lot like his father’s voice in his head. It’s part of you.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Can’t what? Are you hungry? I couldn’t eat with all those people here, so we can have something together.” Jennie Sue took him by the hand and led him to the dining room table.

“I should wash up.” He avoided answering her questions. “I’ll be right back.” He escaped to the restroom, where he spent several minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror and trying to think up a plausible excuse for not swimming.

You are acting like a sophomore with a pimple at prom time. This time it was his mother’s voice in his head. Jennie Sue has proven to be an amazing, compassionate friend. Get over yourself.

“Okay,” he said. “I guess it’s time to swim or drown.”

Cricket and Jennie Sue were already eating when he arrived at the table, so he took a seat across from them and picked up a plate. “It all looks good. Where do I begin?”

“With those little chicken sandwiches,” Cricket said. “I wonder who made them. They are scrumptious. I’ve had half a dozen, but they’re only bite-size, so it’s really not even a whole sandwich.”

Jennie Sue reached for another tiny sandwich. “Come on, Cricket. You know who makes these. You work for Elaine. Surely, you’ve eaten them before. Sugar has been buying them for years, even back when Elaine did some catering for a few choice folks. She also made those cookies and those pinwheel-rollup things with the cream cheese and ham and the little thumbprint cookies. And the vegetable tray and the fruit tray.”