Laurel watched her hair ripple and fall back in place again. “This is great, Lolly. You really know what you’re doing. Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, I want you to look good when Dad comes to dinner.”
Laurel glanced at the clock on her dressing table. “He’ll be here any minute. We’d better check how the roast is doing.”
There were no pauses on the stairs to study the portraits this time, but once in the kitchen, Lolly insisted Laurel’s role be strictly supervisory. “You need to sit down and stay nice. I’ll lift all the lids and open the oven.”
Laurel couldn’t help but smile. Lolly obviously had a not-so-ulterior motive, but as long as it remained unspoken, she’d go along with it. Luckily, the only casualty was the tin of rolls, which had burned because the timer had been set wrong. Lolly dumped the tiny, pitiful lumps of charcoal into the step-on trash can, and Laurel stuck their backups in the oven. All she would need to do was delay everyone at the door for a minute or two for the replacements to finish baking. Or, if Jase and his aunt were a bit late, it would be even better.
Lolly took the chair next to her. “Those pearls you have on are gorgeous. Are they for real?”
Laurel reached up to the necklace. “Yes. They were my grandmother’s. Grampa gave them to Gramma when they were married, and Mama had them restrung for my sixteenth birthday.”
Lolly tilted her head in inquiry. “What was she like—your mother, I mean?”
“Mama? She was older than most of my friends’ mothers and rather conservative, but very sweet.”
“But what did she look like?” Lolly persisted, her voice quieting. “I can’t tell from the painting because her hair is mostly white. Was she dark, like you?”
Laurel shook her head. “No. I take after my father. He was tall and had brown hair, but Mama was fair and rather short, more your height.”
Lolly’s eyes widened and she sucked in a deep breath.
Laurel could have kicked herself. Her description had given Lolly wings to another flight of fantasy, and there was no way to take it back. But it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to keep the peace for what little time they had left. Jase would be here soon and Lolly would leave with him, and she’d probably never see either of them ever again.
*
Jase spotted a familiar intersection, signaled, and turned south, flipping down his sun visor against the relentless sunshine coming in from the right. Almost there. He’d know the way to Laurel’s house blindfolded.
The scent of newly budded roses wafted across the car, and he glanced over at the sheaf of blush pink that Maxie was holding for him. A gentleman brought flowers to a lady, especially if the lady had invited him for dinner, and he was determined to make a good impression on Laurel. Attitude, behavior, and self-control were the keys to success, he reminded himself. Reverend Ed had taught him that.
They’d been in the pastor’s small study off the front room, and Jase had just vented his anger at the world. “I hate my father and I hate Bosque Bend and I hate myself!” he’d said, banging his hand on Reverend Ed’s desk for emphasis.
He hated Marguerite too, but he wasn’t going to say it.
The good man hadn’t even blinked. Instead, his austere features reflected concern and sympathy. He’d laid a comforting hand on Jase’s shoulder.
“You’re angry, and you have a right to be, Jason—the world has dealt badly with you.” He’d stopped for a second, as if searching for the right words. “But be careful. Remember that you want to take a positive viewpoint, be honorable, and not let yourself be led astray. Hate will get you nowhere. In fact, it gives that person a certain…certain power over you. You need to free yourself of the past in order to plan for the future.” Then Reverend Ed had taken an old-fashioned fountain pen from his pocket and reached for a legal pad. “Now, let’s figure out some immediate goals for you.”
The future, not the past—wise advice from a wise man, advice Jase tried to live by. And not only had Reverend Ed pointed him toward a better life, but he’d also stuck by him when news of the mess with Marguerite broke. He’d even tried to persuade Charles Bridges, the district attorney, to file charges against Marguerite for statutory rape.
As if that would fly in Bosque Bend. Bert Nyquist, who had the ear of Dale Fassbinder, a school board trustee, was insisting that Jase had assaulted Marguerite. The school board’s reaction was to hush everything up by putting Marguerite on leave and running him out of town.
Nevertheless, he owed Laurel’s father a lot.