“Mama, stop. I don’t need an inventory. I see myself every morning in the shower. Can we talk about something else? How’s your Moo Goo?”
“Cold.” Mama picked up her plate for the microwave. “What’s going on with you and Tom Junior?”
“Nothing.” A low warmth crept across Ginger’s cheeks. At least she had the treasure and memory of his touch.
“Are you sure?” Mama’s tone lightened, her words lilting and teasing. “He was mighty handsome as a young man.”
“Mama, no, come on.” The bit of rice Ginger scooped into her mouth went down sticky and dry. “I’m no more right for him than you were for his daddy. Even if Tom Senior wasn’t married, Mama, you never cared about serving your own daughter let alone serving others or being a woman of faith.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about how I failed you.”
“I didn’t. I don’t.”
“Look, Ginger, just because I messed up with Tom Senior doesn’t mean you can’t like his son. If there’s something between you, then—”
“Is it seven o’clock already?” Ginger scooted away from the table, downing the last of her tea. “I need to run. The shop’s books await.”
“Ginger, don’t deny your heart.”
She snatched up her purse, a Hermès Birkin clutch gifted to her by Tracie. Styling for celebrities had its perks. “I’m not denying my heart. Tom Wells is not for me.”
If she said it enough, her heart would believe it.
“Listen to me.” Mama grabbed her by the shoulders. The only touch Ginger allowed without flinching. “I ruined things with your daddy because I was young and stubborn.”
“He left you, Mama.”
“But he wanted to come back and I wouldn’t let him. Thought I wanted something better. How did that work out for me? All these years later and I’m alone.”
“No, Mama, you’re not alone.” Ginger drew her into a hug, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You have me.”
“And that is a true gift.” Mama stepped back, her eyes glistening. “Now go on, get your books done. How’s that cute apartment of yours?”
“Good. I like living above the shop.”
“Thanks for dinner,” Mama said.
“Thanks for the truth.”
Ginger made her way down the concrete steps to her car, tossing her bag into the passenger seat, glancing up to the pale light outside Mama’s door.
Tonight she’d discovered a few things about her own heart. She appreciated Mama more than she realized.
And she learned to never make the same mistakes. Which meant loving the wrong man. Ginger marked an X on the image of Tom Wells drifting around her soul. He was officially off-limits, no matter how much she yearned for his tender touch.
On Thursday evening, Tom stepped out of the Rosebud Gazette office and inhaled the smooth fragrance of an Alabama winter, feeling rather pleased. His interview with Riley Conrad had gone well.
Her questions were thought-provoking and interesting. They laughed and reminisced about Rosebud traditions, recalled old names and faces. Including his father.
“Can you tell me? Did he leave town in disgrace? Did he have an affair?” Riley said.
“No, to both counts. He did have some issues to work out and along with my grandfather and mother’s wisdom and support, he resigned his church, took a job in Atlanta, at which he became very successful, and fixed the things he needed to fix in his life. Look, being a pastor doesn’t have to be a lifelong call. My father came to the end of that season in his life.”
“But it took an outside situation to force him to make a change.”
“Doesn’t it for almost everyone? You left Rosebud, Riley. Why’d you come back?”
She gave him a wicked grin. “Outside situation.”
Tom paused on the corner of Main and Alabaster, the glow of a street lamp on his shoulders. Riley’s piece would be this Sunday morning’s feature and hopefully inspire Rosebud’s citizens to check out Encounter Church.
So, now what? Tom glanced left where Alabaster curved around into Park Avenue, ending at Mead Park. To his right was Main Street and downtown.
He’d parked his car in front of Sassy’s Burgers, where he’d eaten every night this week. Most of the shops were open late on Thursday and their golden light fell across the sidewalk in large squares.
Including Ginger Snips. The main window glowed with a string of white lights. Was she there? It was after seven. Tom brushed his hand over his slightly gelled hair, wishing he needed a trim. Wishing he had an excuse to stop by the shop.
But did he need one? Couldn’t he pop in to say hi? He’d told Ginger he wanted to be friends.
He stepped off the curb, ducking in front of a car turning left, and took long strides to Ginger Snips before he changed his mind.
He found the front door open, paint fumes scenting the breeze.
“Well, looky what the cat dragged in again.” Ruby-Jane spotted him. Tom took a cautious step over the threshold. “What brings you here on a Thursday evening, pastor?”