“And do you know who surprised us at lunch?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Edith is unmoved by my obvious indifference.

“Tucker Carroway!”

“Makes sense, considering he works in the courthouse across the street. He probably eats there all the time. Will you hand me that wrench? No, not that one. To your left—that one.”

Edith slaps the tool impatiently into my open palm then continues. “Yes, obviously he eats there all the time—that’s not the weird part! The weird part is that he already knew Meredith! Did you know they were friends?”

Huh. I grip the wrench a little tighter.

“Had no clue.”

While that’s an interesting piece of information, I’m hoping this conversation will end soon. Edith found me as soon as she and Meredith returned from town. I’ve been out in the barn most of the morning, working on an old tractor, trying to see if I can get it to run again. It’s probably futile, but some part of me thinks the rusty beast still has a little life left in it. It belonged to my dad, and he took pretty good care of things when he could.

“Apparently the other day, when Meredith drove that old Chevy to the grocery store, Tucker helped her when it stalled on the side of the road. How sweet is that?”

I focus my attention on the tractor, trying to figure out why the carburetor’s flooding. The needle and seat could be dirty. There could be too much fuel pressure, and I’d just need to test the fuel pump—

“Jack.”

“Yeah, sure. Nice of him.”

“Anyway, Tucker didn’t just come over to say hello and dash off. He asked Meredith out on a date right in front of me.”

“What?”

I jerk up so fast, I knock over my workbench and tools go scattering to the ground. Edith smirks, having hit her mark. Now that I’ve given her a reaction, there’s no stopping her. She starts circling around me, sizing me up. If she had a pocketknife, she’d be flipping it open and closed menacingly.

“Oh, what with my old age, it’s been so long since I’ve seen romance like that.”

“What’d she say?”

“She tried to politely decline, but I wouldn’t let her. The attraction was obvious, so I invited him to sit down and stay for a cup of coffee. They talked the whole time—I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise. He’s such a nice man, and easy on the eyes too.”

“You are aware she’s married,” I point out caustically.

Edith rolls her eyes. “Something in her eyes tells me she’s been checked out of that relationship for a long time. Now that they’re separated, what is she supposed to do, shrivel up into an old maid at 28?”

“It’s only been a week!”

Her eyes go wide. “Boy, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

I bend down and start yanking tools off the ground. “It just says a lot about her sense of loyalty if she’s willing to jump ship like that. I’m not sure that trait makes for the best employee either.”

Edith’s brows arch with interest and her tone takes a sharp left turn. “Well she seems like a fine housekeeper so far, so you needn’t worry about that, and you’ve made yourself very clear about thinking she’s the scum of the earth. We’ll see what Tucker thinks.”

I furrow my brows and murmur, “She’s not the scum of the earth.”

I jerk up, having realized my mistake, and find Edith grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

I point an accusing finger straight at her. “I see what you’re doing.”

She ignores me and goes right back to telling me about lunch. “Anyway, Tucker couldn’t stay long—had to run back to the courthouse, I’m sure to a very important case—but long story short, he’s going to take her to David’s wedding!”

“David, my hand David?”

She beams. “One and the same.”

“Bullshit. She better’ve turned him down,” I say before explaining why I care. “I don’t want everyone pissed at me when she disappears back to California.”

Edith bats away my anger like it’s a wiffle ball, too accustomed to it by now. “She tried to, but I agreed for her, told her most of the town would be there and seeing as how she already has so many friends here, it’d be weird if she didn’t go.”

“You aren’t making any sense. Meredith has lived here for a week—ONE week. There’s no way she has that many friends.”

I’m wrong, of course. Meredith has more friends than I do, and this becomes painfully obvious when I’m in town on Sunday morning. I’m down at the hardware store bright and early, checking out their selection of window air conditioners for the shack, when Chris and David show up unannounced.

“Hey boss!”

Apparently, they also had plans to come down here and get a window unit for Meredith. Isn’t that thoughtful of them? The pair hardly has two nickels to rub together between them, but they were about to fork over two hundred bucks so Meredith could have a little cool air blowing on her face.

“We were maybe gonna ask you to reimburse us,” David explains with a proud smile.

And if I said no?

Something tells me they would have just put it on the credit card and hoped the Lord would provide.

What the hell did she put in those muffins?

I expect them to leave once they see I’m going to take care of it, but instead, they hang around and offer up unsolicited advice about which model I should buy—they seem to think she deserves the most expensive unit the store has to offer. Once we’re done with that, they bring up the wood floors again. I’ve already made up my mind to repair them, but they lay it on thick with prepared monologues about how quick they’d fix it up, and “how little trouble it’d be, really.” I agree, but I’m going to help them, because while they’re decent ranch hands, I’d bet money they’re shitty carpenters. We spend a few minutes grabbing those supplies, and then I think better of it. While I’m doing the floors, I might as well fix a few other things around the place.

By the time we check out, I’ve racked up over a thousand dollars in construction supplies for Miss California, though David and Chris are quick to point out that the shack is on my property, so really I’m fixing it up for myself. “You’re really making money on this whole thing.” Right.

We’re headed out of the hardware store to go load everything in my truck when I spot Dotty bee-lining down the sidewalk toward me. She’s the manager of the First National Bank, and she’s been there since I was a little kid.

“Jack! Yoo-hoo! Hold on there for a second.”

I motion for the guys to keep on loading the supplies then turn to greet her. “What can I do for you, Dotty?”

“Brought you a Dum Dum!”

I like Dotty—she helped me open my first bank account—but apparently, she’s another one of Meredith’s new friends.

“Oh, also, I was just hoping you could pass these along to Meredith for me?”

She’s holding out a Tupperware full of cookies, homemade from the looks of it.

“She came in yesterday to open an account, and she tried one of these,” Dotty explains, patting the lid. “I had them out for the patrons—open more accounts with cookies than with sales pitches, y’know. Anyway, she said they were the best cookies she’d ever had and she asked me for the recipe.”

“So you decided to bake her a batch?” I ask, amused.

She bats my arm playfully. “Well, I just felt so bad for forgetting to give her the recipe. She really was such a dear and went on and on about how good they were. Plus, we got a new teller down at the bank, young girl—Patrick Smith’s daughter? Anyway, it was her first day and Meredith was real patient with her. Mr. Rogers had come in just before and was so snippy, so her nerves were jumbled. He nearly made her cry—”

“I’ll make sure Meredith gets the cookies,” I say, cutting her off so I don’t get trapped here talking to her for God knows how long.

“Oh, okay, I’ll let you get to it. Just remember that the recipe card is right there on top. Make sure she gets that.”

I nod. “Will do.”

“It’s real nice seeing you. Oh! And my business card is there too in case she has any questions about the baking…or banking!”

“Got it.”

“We’ll make sure she gets the cookies, Miss Dotty!” Chris calls from behind me.

“Thanks boys. I’m sure y’all have a big day ahead of you,” she says, waving and backing away. Then she thinks better of it and steps toward me, holding her hand up like she’s just thought of one more thing. “You know what? Just have her call me. It’ll be easier to walk her through the steps. My handwriting probably isn’t all that good.”

I tip my head, tell her approximately twenty times I’ll have Meredith call her, and then make a break for it. In Texas, people have a knack for turning a simple goodbye into an all-day affair.

When I make it back to the ranch, I pull my truck up right over near the shack so unloading won’t take so long. David and Chris offered to come back and help, but I turned them down. I’m not planning on doing any work today other than installing the air conditioner, and that’ll take me five minutes to set up on my own. I pop the tailgate and start unloading building supplies. Normally, I’d store everything in the barn, but the weather should hold and it’ll be more convenient to have everything at my fingertips when we get started tomorrow.

I expect Meredith to step outside to check on all the commotion, but I’m nearly finished unloading before the door opens.

I peer over at her from beneath the brim of my hat, jarred by her appearance. She’s still in her pajamas—one of my t-shirts with sleeping shorts creeping out from underneath. I open my mouth to demand—yet again—that she return my ill-gotten clothes, but then I glance up at her face. Normally, she’s glowing, one of those women with tan skin and a healthy complexion, like she just got back from a tropical vacation. This morning, however, her cheeks are splotchy and her eyes are a little red and puffy. She sniffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks, her tone somewhere between annoyed and angry.

“Did I interrupt a call?” She’s clutching her cell phone in her right hand. It’s the first time I’ve seen her with the thing since she moved in. “I didn’t even know you had one of those.”

Even Edith carries hers around all day. She claims it’s so she can call me when she falls and breaks a hip, but we both know she’s addicted to Candy Crush. She’s the highest scorer among all her friends, and she can’t let the title slide. Also, she’s already had two hip replacements. At this point, if she falls, she’s liable to break whatever it is she lands on.

Meredith glances down as if just remembering the phone was in her hand. “Oh, no. It was Helen. She—” She pauses and shakes her head. “Anyway, no. You didn’t interrupt.”

I wonder if she’s upset because she had a bad phone call with Helen or if maybe she’s starting to have regrets about leaving her old life. Helen said it would only take a week or two before she realized her mistake and fled back home.

Either way, it’s not really my business.

I nod toward the stack of supplies. “I’m just unloading a few things. Got you—the shack—an A/C unit this morning.” Her gaze follows to where I’m pointing. “It’s the best one they had.”

“You can take it out of my paycheck,” she says quickly, her words clipped and hard.

I bristle at the response. It’s not exactly the thank you I was looking for. In fact, it sounds like she’s angry with me for helping her out.

“No. I said I’d get you one, so here it is.”

“I hope you didn’t go through any trouble. That thing looks heavy.”

“I can lift a box on my own.”

I don’t know why we’re doing this—why she and I mix like oil and water, why she’s not cheery and upbeat with me like she is with everyone else, why we flare up over stupid shit. We aren’t fighting, but we aren’t exactly playing nice either.

“What’s all that other stuff for?” she asks, pointing to the supplies stacked up neatly beside the shack. “Please don’t say you’re adding on to the farmhouse—that place doesn’t need any more floors to mop.”

A second ago, I’d been excited to tell her my plans for the place. Now, I don’t think I’d be able to stand her reaction. Hell, a part of me wants to load everything back into my truck and drive it right back to the store.

“It’s just building supplies,” I say after clearing my throat, eager to change the subject. “Mind if I install this A/C now? I have other things I need to get to today.”

She nods and steps aside to usher me through the door. I pause on the threshold, shocked to see what it looks like inside. Sure, the shack is still in need of some renovations—there are still gaps in the floorboards and the walls really need new drywall and paint—but she’s done her best to make it a home. There’s a blue rug on the ground that covers most of the floor, and a wooden stool stands beside the twin bed with a delicate antique lamp on top of it. A paperback I saw Edith reading the other day sits face down beside it.

“Did you buy all this with the advance I gave you?”

“Yes,” she answers hesitantly.

I frown, confused.

“Why waste your money?”

What I mean to say is, What’s the point in sprucing up a place you have no plans of living in for much longer? but my words come out twisted and meaner than I intended.

“I found some very good deals, thank you very much.” Then she brushes past, knocking her shoulder into me accidentally (or probably on purpose). She grabs for her sneakers and heads back for the door at an angry pace. “Now if you’re going to get started, I’ll go take a walk.”

I turn to stop her, to smooth over the situation, but the right words fail me. I’m not surprised; that seems to be a running theme with Meredith. Every time I think I’m making headway with her, I end up putting my foot in my mouth one way or another. Part of it has to do with my prejudices, but I see no way around them. Meredith isn’t here for good. One morning I’ll wake up and find her gone just like her husband did, and I see no reason to soften my heart or give her the benefit of the doubt. She might have convinced everyone else in this town to love her, but not me.