ignored Dotty and focused her attention on Jolene. “Make me one of these things to go.” Flossie held up her empty glass. “If I’ve got to sit through Mass on Sunday, I should at least have something to ask forgiveness for.”
“You okay to drive?” Jolene asked.
“Honey, I come from a long line of moonshine runners. My grandma and grandpa moved over here from Kentucky after Grandpa made a fortune in ’shine. I can hold my liquor and sell a dead man a new coffin, and Lucy ain’t the only one who can please a man in more than fifty ways. I’ll see you Sunday after church.”
“That ought to be fun.” Dotty grinned. “Lucy will have you and Tucker both saved, sanctified, and dehorned before we finish eating. Dammit! I wish she’d showed up here tonight so I didn’t have to go to early-morning Mass on Sunday.”
“Why don’t you just tell her you aren’t goin’?” Jolene asked.
“Only way she’ll come to the inn is if we go to church first, so she can ward off that devil Tucker Malone. She thinks he might seduce her.” Flossie laughed so hard that black mascara streaks rolled down her cheeks.
Jolene laughed with her as she handed her a fistful of napkins to wipe her tears away. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” Flossie dabbed at her cheeks. “I’m leaving on that note. They say to always leave the crowd laughin’.”
“Well, you drive careful, and I’ll have the table set when you arrive,” Jolene said.
Flossie put on her coat and waved. “It’s been fun. See y’all Sunday.”
A lady staggered up to the bar. Her jet-black hair was styled even higher than Dotty’s, and what was left of her lipstick had settled into the wrinkles around her mouth. “Give me two Jack and Cokes, and would you please bring them to the table? See that stud over there? He’s goin’ to dance with me and take me home.” She slurred every word. “And then the real party starts.”
Jolene poured a couple of drinks and whispered to Dotty, “Should we take her keys and call someone to take her home?”
“No, she didn’t drive here. She came with a friend and she’ll leave with that man.” Dotty nodded toward the gray-haired cowboy at the table with the woman. “This happens about once a month. Same friend, but a different guy takes her home every time.”
“I wonder if she’s got a daughter at home waiting for her,” Jolene whispered.
“Reminding you of your mother?” Dotty asked.
Jolene nodded and headed down the bar to wait on another customer. She’d never followed her mother to a bar, because she had to work every night. And her mother had never dyed her hair black or worn it styled like that, but the story was the same. There had been a few times that she’d brought the same man home, but not often. When she did get involved for more than one night, it was because the man promised her the moon.
Staring between two men at the bar, she kept an eye on the woman. Jolene had been working a bar not so very different from the Gator for ten years, and she’d seen lots of women make complete fools out of themselves. So why did the memories of her mother surface that night? Maybe it was being back in the area where her mama was born. Or perhaps it was because Jolene needed to get closure.
Dotty touched her on the shoulder. “You okay, kiddo?”
“Fine, just old memories came haunting me,” Jolene admitted.
“It happens.” Dotty gave her another pat and went back to her end of the bar.
Tucker brought the picture of Melanie in from the trailer and set it on his bedside table. The antique lamp didn’t throw enough light to use for reading, but it lit the framed photograph up very well. He stared at it, remembering the day that it had been taken. They’d met at a Fourth of July party given by mutual friends, and the picture had been taken the next year when he proposed to her in that same spot. His eyes grew heavy, and finally he fell asleep, but she didn’t sneak into his dreams.
At three o’clock he sat straight up in bed, every nerve on high alert. Someone was in the trailer—no, the house. He was in his bedroom at the Magnolia Inn, not in the trailer. He eased off the bed, slipped into his jeans, and removed his pistol from the drawer