wondered if Rayford had ever changed. She was tempted to keep reading, but if she did, she knew she wouldn’t stop until she’d read the whole journal, and she needed to get some sleep.
“Wyatt and Rayford should be thrown in a tow sack with a few big rocks and shoved off into the Guadalupe River. They were born more than a century apart, but they prove that men have always been the same,” she muttered.
Is Mack Cooper like those two men? The question stabbed her in the heart.
“No,” she declared. “He’s not, and any woman would be lucky to have him in their life. If he falls in love a third time, I’ll take on Adam single-handedly, so he can’t come between Mack and his new lady.”
A shot of jealousy went through Lily at the very thought of Mack with another woman. She tried to brush it off as caring for him like she would a brother, but down deep she knew better.
Chapter Nine
For the past fourteen years, Lily hadn’t paid much attention to what was hanging in her closet. She worked in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black jacket when she was a counselor. If she didn’t have clients that day, she wore pajama pants and an oversize T-shirt. She had church clothes, a couple of basic dresses for funerals, and a few fancy things that she’d worn to the church Christmas parties.
It seemed fitting to start to work on a Monday. Begin the new week with a new job. So, what to wear when you work in a vintage shop? She finally decided on jeans and a bright red sweater. She swept her hair back up into a ponytail and put on a pair of gold hoop earrings. Maybe, she thought, she’d buy a pair of Granny Hayes’s special earrings to wear next week when she got her first paycheck. She and Holly could share them—unless her daughter decided over the weekend that she needed horseshoes or fancy cowboy boots dangling from her ears. Teenagers so easily swayed from one thing to the other, but Lily had faith that her daughter would find her own style—whatever it might be.
It was just after nine when she walked into the store, and the place was crawling with customers. Sally was at the cash register ringing up sales, so Lily stashed her coat and purse under the counter. She went to the nearest lady and asked if she could help her.
“I’m just admiring all the gorgeous glassware,” the lady said. “I collect it and have it sitting everywhere—one of those swan dishes is in my bathroom right now with little guest soaps in it.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Lily said. “What brings you to the store?”
“We’re on a little road trip,” the elderly lady said. “Our Sunday-school class does this every January.”
A different lady held up a hobnail milk glass vase. “Look at this, Nadine. Isn’t it pretty?”
“It would look real sweet sitting on your piano with a little bouquet of flowers in it,” Nadine said.
Lily made the rounds, but it was a slow process. Every one of them wanted to talk. When Nadine finally said, “If we’re going to make all the stores in Comfort by noon, we’d better be paying for our purchases and getting—” She sucked in a lungful of air. “Oh. My. Goodness! I must have one of these shawls. Virgie, come look at this. You should get the yellow one for Easter.”
By ten thirty they’d nearly all trickled out. Sally dropped into a chair behind the counter and said, “Thank God you came in when you did. I couldn’t keep up with the lot of them. I don’t think a senior citizens’ Sunday-school class would rob me blind, but if they did, I wouldn’t have known until inventory time.”
“Want something to drink? I can go across the street and get us something,” Lily offered.
“No need.” Sally shook her head. “That old Philco refrigerator in the back room still runs beautifully. It’s stocked with drinks and stuff to make sandwiches. I’ll take a diet root beer if you’re going that way. Oh, and there’s candy bars in the basket on top of the fridge.”
“Snickers?” Lily asked.
“Is there any other kind?” Sally chuckled.
Lily got two candy bars, a diet root beer, and a bottle of sweet tea from the fridge and carried it all to the front. “How often does that happen?”
“In the summer, it’s a daily thing. In the spring, maybe three times a month, yet