CHAPTER FIVE
I found Dixie sitting on the porch step, staring out into the backyard.
I sat down beside her and wrapped my arm around her back. “How’re you doin’?”
“I’m fine,” she sniffed out.
I leaned my head into hers. “I’ve been a really crappy cousin, but I want to be a good one now. If you ever want to talk about your parents or anything, I’m a pretty good listener.” I bent down to catch her tear-filled gaze. “And I’m pretty good at opening a wine bottle too. Even my friend Marina says so.”
Dixie laughed and swiped an escaping tear. “It’s so stupid. I have no right to these feelings.”
“What feelings? Grief?” I asked in disbelief.
She didn’t answer for a moment. “Even if I was entitled then, they’ve been gone nine years.”
“You lost your parents, Dixie, and Pawpaw too. You’re entitled to your grief.” I paused, then decided to address the elephant in the room. “Momma didn’t tell me much, but I know you didn’t intentionally start the fire. It was an accident.”
“Accident or not, they’re still dead.”
“Your momma loved you. It would kill her to see you so upset this many years later.”
She glanced over at me, swiping tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. “How do you know? Other than the summer you were home, you hadn’t seen her in years.”
I could have been hurt by that, but it was a fair question. I gave her a soft smile. “You’re forgetting I had fourteen years with Aunt Merilee before I left. Who do you think I turned to when things got bad with Momma? Aunt Merilee was always there for me, no matter what.” I grinned. “Even in the rare times I was wrong.”
She smiled.
“My mother was a difficult woman to live with, and her expectations were sometimes too much for me to handle. All I had to do was turn to your momma, and she made everything better.” I leaned my head on her shoulder. “Did I ever tell you that I used to daydream that you and I were sisters, and your momma was mine too?”
“No.”
“Well . . . I did. I’d be upset if something happened to my mother, but it wouldn’t be the same situation. Aunt Merilee was special. The kind of special you spend a lifetime grieving.” I turned to look into her face. “But she would hate to know you were wallowing in guilt.”
To my horror, Dixie broke into tears. “I don’t know how to let it go, Summer.”
I hugged her tight and let her cry. “I know.” I was still wallowing in my own guilt, and my burden was a hell of a lot lighter than hers.
I felt movement behind me and caught Karen standing at the storm door. The glint in her eye told me she was about a second away from grabbing one of the camera guys, so I gave her a warning look. I’d let Dixie down for years. I’d do everything I could to make it up to her now. No cameras involved.
After a minute, my cousin sat up and wiped her face. “I had no idea about Otto.”
“You were just a kid when it happened.”
“Still, I would have . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Treated him better?” I asked. “You always had a pure heart, Dixie Belle Baumgartner. I suspect you were as kind as you could possibly have been. And when we find him, you can talk about your shared experience. But we have to find him first.”
She nodded.
“And we will find him. I promise.”
“But Lauren . . .”
I suspected Lauren would purposely drag out finding him to make it last over the entire six episodes, and Dixie must have thought so too. “Yeah. I know. We’ll figure it out.” I stood and pulled her to her feet. “I love you, Dixie. We’ll do this together.”
“Thanks, Summer.”
I went back inside and ignored the irritated looks from Lauren and Karen. “Let’s give this another go.”
The third take was the worst yet, but finally Lauren called it good. “Time to head to the Dollar General to interview Otto’s friends.”
The Dollar General was part of an L-shaped strip mall. It was on the short side that faced the street while the longer portion consisted of the payday loan place, a nail salon, a Chinese takeout restaurant, and a pawnshop. The intersection of the two sides was a surprisingly nice grassy spot with a picnic table, shaded by the surrounding trees. It was easy to see how Otto and his friends got away with hanging out there all day.
After everyone got out of their respective cars and the crew prepared for the shoot, Lauren rolled her eyes and said, “Let’s go talk to a couple of drunk old farts.”
“They don’t seem very drunk,” Dixie said, leading the way across the parking lot. “They look like they cleaned up.”
“What?” Lauren stopped on the sidewalk, taking in the two older men sitting at the picnic table. They were dressed in short-sleeve, button-down shirts and ties. Their hair was combed, and they looked like two respectable members of Sweet Briar . . . the exact opposite of what I’d expected, and from the look on Lauren’s face, not what she expected either. “What in the hell?” She turned her accusatory glare on Karen. “What did you tell them?”
Karen’s eyes flew open in horror. “Nothing . . . nothing . . . ,” she stammered. “I told them we’d be interviewing them, and asked them not to be late.”
Lauren leaned her head back and let out a loud groan. “Let’s go find out what happened.” She marched over and stopped in front of them, putting her hands on her hips. “Gentlemen, I see that you’ve cleaned up.”
“Yep,” one of them said with a big toothless grin. “We wanted to look our best on TV.”
“I got this shirt from the thrift store right over there,” the other man said, pointing to the building across the street. A long scar ran down the side of his face.
Lauren gave them a look of strained patience. “We were hoping you’d look more like yourselves.”
“We do look like ourselves,” the toothless guy said.
“Fred,” Dixie said, putting her hand on his shoulder, “I think they mean like you did yesterday when you talked to them.”
“This won’t work,” Lauren said, throwing up her hands and spinning to face Karen.
They walked several feet away, and Dixie and I followed.
“What do you want me to do?” Karen asked in dismay. “Do you want me to mess up their hair and smear dirt on their faces?”
Lauren pursed her mouth as she turned around and studied them, and for a half second, I was sure she was going to take her up on it.
“How about we ask them questions and you can either blur their faces or we can come back later,” I suggested.
“Or we could just ask them to look . . . more like themselves,” Lauren said, waving to them.
“You’re seriously going to ask two old men to make themselves look like bums?”
“Yes!”
I stared at her in disbelief. “That’s insulting, Lauren. They’re excited that they’re dressed for TV. I say we come back tomorrow or a few days from now and catch them off guard. But we can ask them questions now.”
“We don’t need to ask them questions,” Lauren spat out. “Karen already spoke with them yesterday.” She shook her head. “Everyone go to lunch and we’ll meet back at the office in an hour.
I pushed out a sigh as we headed toward the truck. If this morning was any indication of how this show would go, I was going to need to stock up on plenty of wine.