Crap! He’d missed his turn.
No wonder. The old Alamo Drive-in on the corner of Crocket Avenue had finally been torn down, and in its place was a Walmart, complete with a large, white marquee advertising a post–July Fourth sale in patriotic red-and-blue letters.
Which meant that Overton’s Department Store, which had reigned supreme on the city square since before he was born, finally had some competition. Jase smiled grimly. At least Overton’s blatant racism ended when Reverend Ed threatened Dolph Overton, this generation’s CEO, with a congregational boycott. You didn’t fuck around with the pastor of the biggest church in town.
Exiting at the next street, he circled back, driving through the crowded parking lot. A constant stream of customers entered the store through the sliding door on the right, slowing him down to a crawl. Another wellspring exited from the slider on the left, the adults carrying bags of merchandise and pushing grocery baskets while the children bounced red, white, and blue balloons on strings. He maneuvered carefully around a little boy dashing about in the near dark with a blue balloon tied to his wrist, U-turned, and eased out onto Crocket again.
How much time had he lost? The streetlights were glimmering now. Night was falling fast.
Chapter Two
Laurel stayed outside on her porch to watch the last of the dying sun dodge behind the English half-timber directly across the street. The early evening had dissolved into a humid, uncomfortable twilight, but she felt reborn. She’d been in a haze for six weeks, ever since she’d been laid off, but the scent of honeysuckle was on the breeze, Jase Redlander was back in town, and she was alive again.
Losing her job had been the ultimate shock after almost three years of shocks. First there was the business about Daddy, then the inevitable repudiation by their friends and neighbors, then the divorce. Through it all, Laurel continued driving across town every day to teach her music classes at Lynnwood Elementary. In fact, she had to—with Daddy unemployed, she was the family breadwinner.
She’d always enjoyed teaching, but as Mama’s health declined, her students became even more important to her. No longer was she a twinkle-toed fairy who danced through life with her feet scarcely touching the ground, no longer a two-dimensional representation of her saintly father and well-bred mother, but someone who brought the joy of music into children’s lives.
She sang with them, taught them rhythm instruments and recorders, explained elements of music theory, planned performances, stayed after school to teach basic piano to those who were interested. And all the time, she loved them, even the ones who didn’t love her—especially the ones who didn’t love her, because now she understood that they were the ones who needed her love the most.
So how in the world had she, a favorite of students and parents alike, ended up being laid off?
“The school board has chosen not to offer you another contract, Laurel,” her principal had told her. “I’ll give you a good reference, but I’ve been told there aren’t any other positions open for music teachers in Bosque Bend at this time.”
In other words, the Lynnwood residents, newbies to Bosque Bend, may have liked her, but the old guard wanted to sweep her under the rug. Betty Arnold knew the score. And Laurel did too—the good reference was a bribe so she wouldn’t get the state teachers union involved.
“So sorry, my dear.” Mrs. Arnold gave her a fake smile. “Have you considered relocating?”
Yes, darn it, she was relocating, and she hoped never to set eyes on this misbegotten little town ever again!
Now, Laurel, you’re not being fair.
The truth was that Bosque Bend had given her an incredibly idyllic childhood. As the daughter of the most respected man in town and the heiress to the Kinkaid fortune, she’d been everyone’s darling. Teachers had praised her scholarship and character, the city council passed a resolution every year wishing her a happy birthday, she was elected president of every school organization she belonged to, she had an escort to any function she chose to attend, and all the kids wanted to be her friend.
But now she was the town pariah.
The yard lights across the street switched on, stunning the cicadas into silence and illuminating the Bridgeses’ front lawn with the sharp brightness and harsh shadows of a nighttime carnival. Laurel tensed and clutched at a porch post as a tall woman, her hair catching fire under the artificial light, walked out the front door with a preteen boy. She had a ball in one hand and a leather mitt in the other.
This must be the week that Sarah visited her mother. If it were three years ago, she’d have crossed the street the second that red Mercedes SUV pulled into the driveway. But not now.