stemmed from what her father had told her last summer when they’d gone to Seaside. Something she didn’t know how to deal with, how to bring up to her mother, a woman who felt more like a stranger to her now.
Daphne sighed. “You sure y’all can’t come? I think Clay and Law may stay for dinner. Josh can meet some of the guys you grew up with.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to leave next Thursday free.”
“This will probably be the last dinner for a while. I just enjoy seeing you.”
“You see me almost every day.”
“But that’s different.” Her mother sounded sad. Ellery felt guilt crawl around inside her. Her mother always made her feel guilty. Like she didn’t do enough to be a good daughter. But Ellery hadn’t been the one who’d decided to change. Her mother had done that when she decided to pursue a career. That decision had toppled everything in their lives, breaking apart all Ellery had known. And now her mom was selling their house and hadn’t even asked Ellery if she minded. Well, she’d asked if she and Josh might want to buy it, but that was it. Two weeks later she had a Realtor out, and a FOR SALE sign was hanging out front.
Everything felt . . . too much too fast.
“I bought some good wine today. I’ll bring it by before I head into work,” Ellery said, hoping her gift of wine would absolve some of the guilt for taking a shift on “family” night. Of course, her mother would probably insist on reimbursing her for the wine, which would make her feel like she couldn’t pay her way. Then again, Ellery could use the extra money. Damn it, adulting was hard.
“That would be nice. I’m happy to pay you for it.”
“Sure. Bye, Mom,” Ellery said, switching off the phone, wishing she could keep driving past Shreveport, past Louisiana, going anywhere other than where she was now.
CHAPTER FIVE
The corn bread hadn’t cooked enough in the middle. Still, it would have to do. Daphne didn’t have time to make another pan—something that bothered her. She didn’t cook as often as she once had, but she liked her final product to be perfect. Of course, the corn bread would taste fine with the purple-hull peas she’d bought at the farmers’ market. Last bushel they’d had for the season. Daphne had gotten lucky, since peas had been scarce all summer.
Daphne pushed open the screen door. Her decorator had gasped when she’d seen it. Soon the anachronism would be replaced by french doors. Even so, Daphne liked the old-fashioned screen door with its creak and ensuing thump when closed. Took her back to her grandmother’s house when there was always cold sweet tea and the sound of her granddaddy playing his guitar to an audience of field crickets.
The end of the day had brought her a cool breeze. Insolent fall was finally stepping in line. Headlights swung up the drive and Daphne checked her watch. Late, but not ridiculously so.
Bumping up her drive was the contractor’s truck. Please, Lord, let him have brought his brother. She squinted, praying to see the shape of Clay’s brother, Lawrence. Nope. Only one door opening.
Damn it.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Clay called, climbing out of the pickup. Hooked in two of his fingers was a brown wine bag. He slammed the door. “Where’s everybody?”
“Ellery’s working tonight. Which means Josh won’t be here, either. Is Lawrence coming?” Please say he’s on his way.
“Nah. He said to thank you for the invite, though.”
Clay stomped up the back steps. He’d recently showered, because the curls that brushed his ears were damp. He wore a gray T-shirt and a pair of jeans that were worn soft on the thighs. Cowboy boots completed his look, and the scruffy beard didn’t look unkempt but instead reminded her of lazy days in rumpled sheets. That beard would provide delicious friction against—
“I brought some wine,” he said, interrupting her really, really wrong thoughts. God, Daphne, chill out and stop going there, pervert.
Her mind zoomed to that stupid book—The Mystery of Female Arousal. Tippy Lou had cleaned out her shelves, and among the books on healing minerals and transcendentalism, she’d found that gem. She’d handed it to Daphne, who had just admitted she hadn’t missed having sex for the past two years all that much. Tippy Lou had been aghast and insisted Daphne read it and give her reports on each chapter. She’d also mentioned masturbation and recommended a site for sex