Page 10 of Sweet Southern Heat

Resentment clawed at my throat as I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It would’ve been nice to have her here to lean on, to talk to about my nan, and reminisce over the good times, but Mom had never been great with providing comfort and emotional support. I’d always had Nan for that, but now she was gone, and I had no one.

“She’s doing alright,” I answered finally. Honey noticed the catch in my voice, and her gaze softened with understanding. Tears welled in my eyes. Honey always saw more than anyone else, especially when it came to issues with my mother.

“Oh, Livy. Where did she go this time?”

“Bahamas,” I replied with a sniffle. Mama always went on a “retreat” when things got tough. She was good at running from her problems.

Just like me.

Tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear, Honey wrapped an arm around my waist and led me back toward the display case.

“Why don’t we have a coffee and catch up before it gets busy in here?” It was that lull between the morning rush and lunchtime. Soon folks would stop in for their after lunch sugar fix and I wouldn’t have time to think, let alone talk, even with Mina coming in soon to work the afternoon shift.

“Okay,” I agreed, grabbing two cookies from the case and placing each on a small plate and handing her one. With a carafe of freshly brewed coffee and a bowl of sugar and creamer situated between us, we talked for the next thirty minutes about all we’d missed in each other’s lives over the past few years. Aside from that, it was as though no time had passed. We laughed about our dating mishaps and failed attempts at finding meaningful relationships outside of Magnolia Grove. I got up a few times to serve customers, but we picked up right where we left off, and before we knew it, Mina was there ready to start her shift, signaling the impending rush of customers we always expected just after noon.

“I better get going. My grandparents are probably wondering where I ran off to,” she said as she stood from her chair.

I grabbed a box and threw in a couple of her grandparents’ favorite treats. “Tell them hello for me. They’re so busy, they rarely make it in here, but I remember exactly what they order when they do.” I offered her the box with a genuine smile. She wrapped me in another quick embrace.

“Thank you. They’ll love this,” she offered before walking out the door. I watched her go, already missing her. It was fortuitousshe returned home when she did. My time home had been full of grief and heartache. She was a bright spot in this moment of darkness. If I decided to stick around, I hoped she stayed too. I heard she was home for good, but one could never take the town gossip as gospel, and I hadn’t wanted to ask while she was here. So many people had inquired about my plan to stay, and each time I felt the pressure to make a decision grow heavier on my shoulders. And I didn’t want to do that to her. I did, however, want her to feel welcome.

A plan began to formulate in my mind. I wouldn’t be the only person ecstatic to have Honey Beaumont back in Magnolia Grove. She needed a welcome home party. And I knew just the place to have it.

I surveyedmy deck where Honey and I had sunbathed and giggled over boys all through high school. It was a little worse for wear, but nothing a good power washing wouldn’t fix. My grandmother had neglected it since I'd moved away. That much was clear, but surely it was sound enough to host a party. The patio furniture would need refreshed, and I could string up some lights to liven up the place.

My toe caught on a wooden plank jutting up from the deck, and I stumbled. I crouched to inspect the offending deck board. It curled slightly and was discolored as though it had begun to rot and warp. On closer inspection, I noticed a few more boards that looked like they’d seen better days. Tentatively, I reached out with my foot and prodded the boards. They had more give than they should have and most likely needed replaced.

I cursed under my breath, letting my head fall back in frustration. Heaving a deep breath, I dug my phone out of mypocket and dialed Dean Sullivan’s number. It rang several times, and I thought my call would go to voicemail, but he picked up at the last second.

“Olivia,” he greeted cheerily, “what can I do for you? Everything going

okay at the bakery?”

“Hey, Dean, everything’s fine at the bakery. It’s coming along nicely.” To my surprise, the project was ahead of schedule. That was probably only because Landon wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. He didn’t want to spend any more time in my presence than absolutely necessary. “I’m actually calling to see if you had anyone who could come look at my deck. It looks like some of the boards are rotted and need to be replaced.” Dean hesitated, and my hope withered away.

“My schedule is plum full, and a lot of my guys are working overtime to finish what we already have on the books,” he offered apologetically.

“I understand,” I replied, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “I just wanted to have a welcome home party for Honey Beaumont since I planned on opening the pool this weekend.” This threw a major wrench in my plans. I supposed I could see if the community center was available; though it was usually booked out months in advance for birthday parties and baby showers.

“I heard that Honey was home. I bet her grandparents are thrilled,” Dean said.

“They sure are. I’m happy she’s home too. It makes being back here a little easier.”

Dean sighed, and I heard the sound of shuffling papers on the other end of the line as though he was flipping through a planner. “Hmm,” he said, and I held my breath, waiting to hear when his next opening would be. Even if he couldn’t get someone out here in time for a party, I hoped he had an openingbefore summer was over so I could use my pool without having to worry about falling through the deck.

“I’ll tell ya what,” he said, and the shuffling stopped. “I’ll come by this evening and have a look. If it’s something that can be fixed in a day or two, I might be able to get someone out there on Saturday.”

“Really?” I asked, a lilt of excitement in my voice.

“I can’t make any promises, but sometimes my guys will take on extra work on the weekends.”

My stomach soured. The last time he got someone to do a last-minute job for me, he'd sent Landon. Surely, he wouldn’t put me through that kind of torture twice. Then again, I’d made no complaints about Landon’s work. I had none to relay to his boss other than him being a grump, which I was certain Dean already knew. If I asked him not to send Landon, Dean might think Landon was doing a poor job and would pull him off the bakery project. Then I would have to wait who knew how long to get someone else in there to finish the renovations. The last thing I wanted to do was cause Landon trouble or cost him a job. It would be one more thing for him to hold against me.

So I swallowed down my request and pasted on a smile even though Dean couldn’t see me. I would just cross my fingers and hope the universe was on my side for once.

“That would be great. I really appreciate it.” We hung up, and I offered up a silent prayer that Dean wouldn’t send Landon. Turns out, I should've asked a little more loudly.

Chapter 12

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