fine because she’d never been invited. To this day Granny regarded her disinterest in the social event of the year as slightly blasphemous.
As Jessica made the turn onto Tulip Street, her attention was drawn to a neon green flyer that had been taped to one of the streetlamps. The large-print headline stopped her in her tracks.
STOP THE DESTRUCTION OF LOOKOUT ISLAND.
Jessica pulled the flyer away and read the small print. Evidently, the Moonlight Bay Conservation Society was on the warpath, and Topher was in their sights. The flyer claimed that Christopher Martin, billionaire and friend to corporations everywhere, was planning to build a gargantuan eyesore on the island. The Conservation Society was determined to stop this rape of the land and invited concerned citizens to a town hall meeting at Grace Methodist Church next Saturday to discuss the efforts of State Representative Caleb Tate, who was ready to introduce legislation that would prohibit the development of Lookout Island in perpetuity.
“Damn him,” Jessica whispered out loud. She almost jumped at her own audacity in using that kind of language. But she was furious. This flyer felt personal. The house she planned was not a monstrosity, but more important, Topher wasn’t a callous billionaire. And no one was going to rape the environment.
Tate had to be behind this. The man must be desperate for cash, and he was squeezing Topher where it would hurt the most.
He was a despicable human being.
She folded the paper and headed off to Granny’s house. She was still out of sorts when her grandmother opened the door.
“Why do you wear pink?” Granny asked instead of greeting her like a member of the family.
Jessica squared her shoulders and looked her grandmother in the eye. “Because I like pink. It’s my favorite color.” Then she walked right past Granny, invading the older woman’s space as she made her way to the living room and the tea tray that awaited her.
She was suddenly weary of the role she’d been playing since her return to Magnolia Harbor. She didn’t want to be a nice, polite Southern girl. She wanted to be herself, warts and all.
She sat down on the camelback sofa and stared at the Lenox tea service, fighting the urge to pick up the teapot and hurl it across the room.
Granny sat down facing her, a strange, sly look in her eyes. “Darling, I am so pleased that you’ve come to your senses.”
“About what?” she asked as she picked up the teapot and started pouring, her hands surprisingly steady considering her state of mind.
“About Christopher Martin.”
This time Jessica didn’t slosh the tea, which she regarded as a minor victory. She calmly handed a cup and saucer to her grandmother.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.
“I’m talking about last Wednesday night, when your car was seen at Howland House well into the wee hours.”
She picked up her own cup and saucer, pot poised. She wasn’t surprised by this news. For once the gossips had their facts right. And she didn’t even care.
If people wanted to talk about how she’d slept with Topher, then they could just have at it.
“I hope,” Granny continued, “that this puts the whole Colton St. Pierre phase to rest. Because, really dear, he—”
“Stop. Not another word.” She put the teapot down without pouring herself a cup.
“But—”
“I don’t know what people are saying. But Colton and I were never a thing. And it’s time for you to realize that.”
“But, darling, when you came back home you said—”
“Yes. I remember what I said. And I lied to you. And you know what, Granny, that’s the first time I lied. All the rest of the time—you know, when you and Momma and Daddy wouldn’t let me come home—I was telling the truth. Colton has always been my friend. And if you can’t stand that, then I guess you’ll just have to sit on it.
“And as for Topher. I have no intention of trying to land that fish, as Aunt Donna put it.”
“Are you out of your mind? You could have that man if you wanted him. I know he’s not as handsome as—”
“Stop. Just. Stop.”
Something snapped inside Jessica, and a poisonous pool of rage flowed up from the deep well she’d been hiding for all these years.
She stood up. “I’m done,” she said, her voice calm.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m done coming over here every Saturday and enduring your endless criticism. If you want me in your life, you’ll apologize.”
“For what?”
Really? She didn’t even know? “Granny, you always