about the wisdom of calling a total stranger and was still not convinced she should do it.
She was hot and too tired to go looking for a new bank. For a day that had started out good, then gone bad, then sort of leveled itself back out, she was ready for it to be over.
Tonight, she would cook. And she would hang up her new clothes, take a long, soaking bath in her tub, and sleep without fear. And that's all she would ask of this day.
She stopped at a drive-through on the way home to get a Coke, and by the time she pulled into the garage, she had cooled off, and the Coke was gone. She punched the remote, watching as the door went shut behind her car, and then grabbed her bags and went inside, announcing herself as she went.
"I, Gracie, am home!"
The place pleased her. Old velvet, hardwood floors, cool and clean, with a faint, but lingering scent of lemon oil.
She dumped all of her purchases on the bed, glanced up at the cuckoo clock she'd already hung on the wall. She changed into old clothes then began hanging up the new stuff and putting away new shoes.
She sat down in the easy chair beside the window to braid her hair, and as she did, looked up, then blinked. Just for a moment, she'd forgotten where she was and had expected to see the dry landscape and rusty corrals beyond the old farmhouse.
Her view, instead, was neatly clipped hedges, freshly watered flower beds, and huge trees casting long shadows upon the newly mown grass. And it was beautiful.
She finished braiding her hair, and then got her phone to check her balance at the bank. She hadn't spent a lot of money, but until she had a job and a paycheck coming in, spending anything felt like a risk.
To her shock, the twenty-one thousand plus balance that she'd had upon her arrival, was now a little over thirty-one thousand dollars.
"Oh my God," Gracie mumbled, unable to believe what she was seeing.
It never occurred to her than any of her siblings were responsible. She was just grateful for the added security, which gave her the leeway to find the right job.
She flipped the braid off her shoulder and headed for the kitchen. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, and all of a sudden, she was starving. She made herself some iced tea, then got out a skillet and a little package of pork chops. It had been such a long time since she'd had the luxury of cooking that it felt strange. But the familiarity of a lifetime of kitchen skills soon kicked in, and she was banging lids and turning the perfectly browned chops like a pro.
Chapter Twelve
The dishwasher was running, and Gracie was in the living room, kicked back in the blue velvet chair with her feet up on the matching hassock, watching TV.
The mindless luxury of no longer being responsible for Mama, or answering to anyone else, had become her reality. The weather alert for this area called for thunderstorms. Where Gracie came from, rain was money falling from the sky.
Then she remembered John Gatlin. She wanted to hear his voice again and ran to get his card, then called the number.
He answered so abruptly, she wondered if he'd actually been waiting for her to call.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hi, John. This is Gracie Dunham."
"Gracie! I'm so glad you called. I've been hoping you would. Have you had your dinner?"
"Yes. I'm full of pork chops and watching TV."
John chuckled. "We both went the pig route tonight. I had smoked ribs, and I'm watching two deer eating my grass so I don't have to mow it."
She had an immediate image of forest. "You don't live in the city?"
"No. I have a log home just outside of Branson. It's off the main road, back up in the trees. It's all green and peaceful here."
"That sounds amazing," Gracie said.
"It is. I'd love to show it to you sometime...if you'd like." Gracie was suddenly silent, and her hesitation was just enough to warn John not to move too fast. "So, how did your interview go?"
Gracie realized her silence had been taken as a no, but it was too late to go back and explain how rusty she was in the dating scene. His question was the perfect shift she needed.
"Using one of my daddy's favorite sayings...it was nothing less than a shit show."
John laughed, and then immediately apologized.
"Oh, God...sorry. I wasn't laughing