Page 62 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Meemaw held her finger up and pointed it at Dixie. “I’d rather not have you fornicatin’ anywhere, but if you’re gonna do it, I’d rather you be doing it under my nose.”

“I never took you as a voyeur, Meemaw,” Dixie said, restraining a laugh.

Meemaw’s eyes narrowed to pinpricks and I could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. I knew better than to stick around for this, so I bolted to my room at the back of the house and started rummaging through my dresser drawers for a pair of jeans.

Dixie appeared in my bedroom doorway five seconds later, grinning ear to ear. “I love it when I can best her.”

“You liar,” I said, “you may love it, but you never best her.”

“Maybe so,” Dixie admitted, “but I get closer and closer every time.”

Dixie and I changed into jeans and T-shirts, and we both made sure to get our work boots for walking through the fields. Teddy might have done the majority of the work around the farm, but Dixie and I helped from time to time.

We packed our original clothes in a bag so we could change when we were done out at the Brewer farm. It might be October, but the day was warm and sunny, leaving little doubt that we’d leave the property a hot, sweaty mess. I told Dixie we could go to Luke’s house and shower before we tracked down Chuck’s alibi, Tim.

But before we left the farm, we headed out to the overseer’s house so Dixie could see the progress. There were even more guys working inside than when I’d checked on the house the day before. The windows were open, and we could hear a cacophony of noise from the power tools inside.

We found Buddy in the kitchen with a caulk gun in his hand.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite PI,” he said when Dixie and I walked through the front door. He grabbed a towel out of his back pocket and swiped at the sweat on his brow. “Here for your daily update?”

“Dixie’s back in town, so I thought I’d show her around,” I explained. “So she can see for herself that we’ll be moving in next Friday.”

He released a hearty laugh. “It ain’t changed since yesterday morning. At this rate, I think you’ll be in by next Wednesday.”

Dixie’s eyes widened with excitement. “We’ll be cookin’ in this kitchen next week?”

“Sure will,” Buddy said, his gaze drifting over to the gas range, then back to us with a wobbly smile.

Uh-oh. This was the first sign of uncertainty I’d noticed since I’d issued the deadline.

Dixie didn’t notice as she was too busy surveying the room, and I could see how she would be awed. She’d only ever lived with Meemaw in the time capsule she called a house, and her parents’ mobile home…and the occasional live-in stint with previous boyfriends. But this was far nicer than anywhere she’d ever lived, Bill’s apartment in Atlanta included. She’d been excited before, but it had always felt like she was holding herself back. Like she didn’t believe it would actually happen. And now…now she could see a different future for herself. Even if it was just a renovated house.

“I want to see my room,” she whispered.

Wearing a huge smile, I swept my arm toward her bedroom, knowing they were finished with it. I was excited to see her reaction.

But she didn’t rush into it, as I might have expected. Instead she practically tiptoed, as though it would all change back to the run-down house it had been before I started the renovations. Not that her room had even existed before. It was part of the new addition.

She swung open the bedroom door and gasped. The room was painted a soft pink and had crisp white six-inch baseboards and thick crown molding. Buddy’s crew had already hung a gold-tone curtain rod over the wide windows, which were ready for the wood shutter installation early next week.

“What do you think?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

“I think it’s the most perfect room in the world.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding. “This is your home too, Dixie. It’s on Baumgardner land. I don’t know what you and Bill are planning, if you’re planning to move to Atlanta or…well, in any case, you’re always welcome?—”

She spun back to face me, confusion in her eyes. “I’m not moving to Atlanta.”

“But you spend so much time there now. And Bill, his work?—”

“I spend so much time up there because I can’t stand bein’ under Meemaw’s thumb. Once this house is done and we’re moved in, I’m hunkerin’ down and you’ll have to pry me out.” She grinned. “But Lauren would be plenty happy with that kind of drama for season three. I could make sure to put up a huge fuss.”

I laughed. “Well, the good news is that I’ve agreed to let Lauren include some shots of the house. It just might get us out of filming another disastrous family dinner.”

Her smile faded. “What do you think is up with the dinner tonight?”

I frowned. “I don’t know, but Meemaw was acting strange yesterday morning. Maybe she just wants to give us another lecture about the perils of livin’ in sin.”

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