by Herron, Rita
A month later, Daisy had returned home, thirty pounds lighter, and had turned her hobby of baking and eating into baking and selling. But Daisy’s self-consciousness had stayed with her like a splinter embedded too deeply to be dug out.
Three years later, when Daisy had graduated and was taking cooking classes, Izzy was a senior, and Caroline was attending cosmetology classes—she’d been a whiz at French braiding Izzy and Daisy’s hair—Blake Kincaid had ridden into town with his sexy swagger and trampled on their lives forever.
The moment Izzy had seen those tight jeans hugging his butt and the way his muscles had bunched when he’d roped a calf, she’d lost her head.
Daisy had baked desserts for a party the town had thrown in Blake’s honor after a personal appearance at the town hall, and the moment Blake had complimented Daisy on her fried pies, Daisy had been lost in love.
Only Izzy had been certain Blake was meant for her and had done everything she could to win his attention. After all, Caroline had her sports trophies and Daisy her culinary awards.
Izzy had nothing but her mama’s bad seed in her. She’d seen the wrong side of Principal Hatchett’s office so many times he’d named a seat in her honor.
Hands suddenly sweaty from the memories, she shifted into gear and drove through town. Was Daisy still mad at her for sending pictures of her at that camp to Blake Kincaid?
The sign for the Matrimony Gazette banged against the post in the wind as she drove past.
And then there was Caroline—Caroline, who’d been the soccer star and spelling-bee champ. Caroline, who’d quietly nursed her own infatuation with Blake. Caroline, who’d seduced Blake in the stall at the rodeo.
The night Izzy had snuck into the stable and seen them, she’d cried till she was blue in the face. Later, the anger had set in, and she’d found Caroline’s diary and read her darkest, deepest secrets.
Jealous of Caroline, she’d donated pages of the diary, pages that detailed Caroline’s undying love for Blake, to Miss Nellie’s “Naughty in Matrimony” column.
Had Caroline forgiven her for humiliating her like that?
Had Aunt Dottie?
Tamping down the guilt that grated on her like a bad hemorrhoid, she studied the town as she drove. Christmas lights adorned the storefronts, although the buildings desperately needed paint and remodeling. She coasted through the single stoplight, noting that half the businesses were empty now. The bed-and-breakfast was deserted, the library was gone, and the drugstore no longer boasted homemade malts.
She hadn’t expected Matrimony to have progressed enough to have a gourmet coffee shop, but it looked desolate. No flower shop, no boutiques, no bridal shop, no jewelry store, not even a bakery. Thankfully, Lulabelle’s Diner still stood, although the parking lot was virtually empty.
Even the sheriff’s office looked deserted.
A laugh bubbled in her throat. The town probably hadn’t needed a sheriff after the Sassafras sisters left.
She veered down the side road that led to Aunt Dottie’s Victorian house, her nerves fluttering. Aunt Dottie had been so disappointed in her and her sisters the night of that brawl in the Dairy & Donut Delite that shame filled Izzy.
Of course, she’d lived with shame all her life because of her mother’s incarceration.
The first Sassafras scandal that had rocked the town.
Rule number one: Stand up straight and tall, Aunt Dottie had told them. Act like a lady and people will treat you like one.
Only she and her sisters hadn’t exactly been ladies.
Still, after the fiasco with Blake, she’d been determined to make something respectable of herself. But she’d fallen for the easy way out—guys who paid her compliments and flattered her. Men like Ray, who promised her love and a seat in society.
Her aunt Dottie’s pink Cadillac sat in the drive, her aunt’s only concession to her wilder days.
Two other vehicles were parked beneath the oak trees—a Jeep Wrangler and a minivan.
Maybe Aunt Dottie had called her friends from church to stop by and pray for her because of Izzy’s visit.
The kitten purred, and she cradled it close to her as she parked and climbed out. A cool winter breeze sent the ferns on the wraparound porch swaying and the shutters flapping, making her nostalgic for her childhood days when dreams seemed possible, and she still believed in love and men.
Except for a low light burning upstairs, which was coming from her aunt’s room, the house looked dark. She climbed the steps to the porch, memories flooding her. She and her sisters swinging on the tire swing hanging from the oak tree. Catching lightning bugs in jars, chasing butterflies, and running through the sprinkler. Listening to rock music and daydreaming about what they would do when they left Matrimony as they sat on the porch swing overlooking the yard.
A handmade wreath hung on the front door, garland draped the porch rails, and red bows decorated the windows.
But she didn’t see any twinkling lights through the front window. Hadn’t Aunt Dottie decorated a Christmas tree yet?
She took a deep breath, knocked gently, then let herself in, the familiar scents of home welcoming her: the rosewater-scented candles Aunt Dottie kept in the bathroom, the scent of cinnamon rolls wafting from the kitchen, and pine from the garland on the staircase.
The house seemed eerily quiet as she entered, but she immediately noticed her aunt’s collection of Santas on the table in the entryway and in the den by the fireplace. The antiques, crocheted doilies, and figurines dressed as carolers made her heart tug. And then there was the silver tea service sitting on the tray on the coffee table.
Memories of her aunt teaching her and her sisters how to be a lady over tea and shortbread cookies suffused her.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this place.
Ray had thought collecting Santas and antiques was ridiculous. He’d only wanted showy chrome and glass.
A quick glance in the living room and she did see a tree, although it wasn’t lit and held no ornaments. Aunt Dottie must have injured herself before she could decorate.
Photos of her and Daisy and Caroline lined the wall leading up the steps, documenting their childhood.
Izzy at five learning to ride her bike with Caroline pushing her. Caroline had doctored her boo-boos with princess Band-Aids, let her and Daisy crawl in bed with her after nightmares, helped them buy their first training bras. She’d hand-stitched clothes for their dolls and costumes for the shows Izzy had invented.
Another photo showed her and Daisy covered in flour in their aunt’s kitchen. Daisy had baked cupcakes and cookies for their school events and birthdays. She’d also built a lemonade stand to sell her treats and tacked flyers all over the town inviting people to Izzy’s one-act plays.
More photos captured Izzy as a boy in the school play—with her figure as straight as a stickpin from Aunt Dottie’s sewing basket, no one had known she was a girl. Another captured her in the belly-dancing costume she’d worn for the halftime show at homecoming. Daisy, a wannabe cheerleader who had never made the squad, had loved home ec. She had entered the Miss Teenage Chef contest and won for her cheesecake balls. The crushed Oreos she’d sprinkled on top of them had cinched the title.
Caroline, the soccer player and athlete, had been dubbed the player who would most likely donate her body for the game. She could take out another girl without flinching.
Izzy had admired her toughness until she’d given her a black eye that night . . . of the scandal.
When she reached the landing, voices echoed from the bedroom. She knocked on her aunt Dottie’s door and pushed it open, not surprised to see a hatbox on her aunt’s dresser. Aunt Dottie had a thing about hats.
The antique wardrobe that held her aunt’s ballroom gowns still stood by the bed, reminding her of playing dress-up with her sisters.
But her breath stalled when she saw Daisy and Caroline sitting by her aunt’s bed.
C
HAPTER TWO
Izzy clutched the kitten to her as if it might save her from her sisters’ wrath. Had they known she was coming?
She narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious. Was her aunt’s leg injury some kind of sneaky ploy to reunite the sisters?
“I’m so glad you’re finally here,” Aunt Dottie said.
Izzy steeled herself in case her sisters pounced. Daisy and Caroline looked exactly like they had when she’d last seen them ten years ago. Well, except that Daisy’s fiery-red hair was straight now instead of wavy, and Caroline’s brown hair was long and flowing over her shoulders instead of the short bob she used to wear.
But a thick silence filled the air, almost smothering. Both her sisters looked . . . angry.
No. Sad? Worried?
Aunt Dottie propped herself against a half-dozen pillows. “Just like always, you brought home another stray.”
Izzy placed the kitten in the rocking chair in the corner, where it snuggled up to one of Aunt Dottie’s shawls. Her stomach tightened with nerves. Her sisters were watching her as if they expected her to erupt into a raging lunatic any minute.
She always had been the drama queen, she supposed.
Izzy gestured toward the crutches. “How are you feeling?”
Normally, her aunt didn’t have a devious bone in her body, but something about this scenario seemed fishy.
In fact, she looked deathly pale. Was that white powder on her face?
“I’m fine, I’ll just be laid up a few days,” Aunt Dottie said with a grin.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in the hospital?” Daisy said, still holding their aunt’s hand.
“No, all I need is you girls home.”
Her statement fell between them like an ax slamming into a wall.
Caroline’s brown eyes flickered with emotions Izzy couldn’t quite define as she plumped another pillow for their aunt. Caroline had always been the motherly one. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you the way you took care of us.”
Aunt Dottie rubbed her temple and yawned. “I appreciate you all coming, but I need to rest awhile. Now go on downstairs and catch up while I take a nap.”
Daisy stood. “Just call us if you need anything.”
Caroline gestured toward the little bell on her aunt’s bedside table. “Yes, Aunt Dottie, ring the bell and we’ll come running.”
Daisy and Caroline traded wary looks as they started toward the door.
“Oh, girls,” Aunt Dottie said, “I also need you to finish decorating the Christmas tree. The ornaments you made are in your keepsake boxes in the den.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be here that long,” Daisy said.
“Me neither.” Caroline frowned. “I can only stay a couple days.”
“Please, girls, I’m just not up to it right now.” Aunt Dottie began to cough, and Izzy handed her the teacup from her tray.
“Fine, we’ll do it,” Daisy said, her face panicked at the sight of their aunt’s frail demeanor.
The teacup rattled as Aunt Dottie took a sip. “Caroline?”
“Of course,” Caroline said. “But you have to promise to stay in bed and get better.”
Aunt Dottie offered a small smile. “I promise.”
Izzy inched closer to examine her aunt. “You are okay, aren’t you?” Izzy whispered as soon as her sisters closed the door.
Aunt Dottie fluttered her hand over her face. “Yes, I will be. Now that you’re all here.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue,” Aunt Dottie said. “It’ll be the perfect time for y’all to settle your differences. This feud has gone on way too long.”
Izzy wanted that more than anything. But how could she face her sisters when she was the failure they’d always thought she’d be?
“All right, Aunt Dottie, but while they’re here, I’ll stay at the B and B in town.”
Aunt Dottie looked stricken. “No way. In fact, I have something you can help me with. There’s an empty space next to the antiques store in town. Ruby and Faye, my Zumba buddies, had an idea about making it a consignment shop.”
Aunt Dottie did Zumba now?
“They found some old wedding dresses in their attics,” Aunt Dottie continued. “Belonged to their grandmas, you know. Ruby suggested using them to start a secondhand bridal shop.”
Izzy’s interest was piqued. “Brides on a budget. That might work.”
“Good. Will you take care of setting up the shop? I left the keys on the kitchen counter, and I’ve already mentioned it to Caroline and Daisy, and they’re going to help.” Aunt Dottie massaged her leg. “That would be a big favor to me, dear.”
“Of course.” How could she say no? Especially if her sisters had already agreed. Then she would look like the ornery one.
Besides, she had nothing else to do, except mourn the death of her marriage. And burn the box of memorabilia she’d brought with her from Texas.
But she’d leave it in the trunk for now. She didn’t want her sisters asking questions.
“Good night, Aunt Dottie. Feel better.”
Aunt Dottie patted the quilt covering her. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be better in a couple days.”
Izzy could have sworn she saw a twinkle in her aunt’s eyes, but then her aunt curled on her side to go to sleep. Izzy kissed her cheek, then headed down the steps, still debating on whether to sneak out to the B and B.
But Caroline met her at the bottom of the staircase with Daisy behind her. “What are you going to do, run again, Izzy?”
Izzy stiffened, her quick temper flaring. Aunt Dottie said she’d inherited that devil’s spark from her mama. “I thought it might be best if I stayed in town.”
“Listen,” Caroline said. “None of us like the fact that we’re in the same house, but we’re worried about Aunt Dottie. After all she sacrificed to raise us, we can’t leave her now, she needs us.”
“She is getting older,” Daisy said. “And we do owe her. She could have traveled the world instead of staying home to raise us.”
Izzy chewed her bottom lip. True. But this was supposed to be her reprieve from Ray. Her time to figure out what to do with her life.
“So,” Caroline said. “I suggest we stay and help her, but we steer clear of one another. Deal?”
Daisy tugged her sweater around her, but gave a little nod. Daisy was always the peacemaker, the bridge between them. “Deal.”
Izzy remembered their spit sister handshakes. But this time none of them made a move to repeat the tradition.
Still, Aunt Dottie had taken them in. And she had asked Izzy for a favor.
She couldn’t disappoint Aunt Dottie again, so she murmured, “Deal,” then hurried outside to retrieve her bag.
She’d set up the secondhand bridal shop, then leave before her sisters discovered the truth about her and Ray.
Levi left his two brothers in charge of the repairs to the Silver Dollar Ranch, and tracked Izzy Sassafras across three states.
In the past ten years since she’d left North Georgia, she’d been a busy woman.
“So what happened between you and Izzy?” he asked Stanley Norris, one in the string of boyfriends she’d accumulated after she’d left Matrimony. This guy lived in Mobile.
“I met Izzy when she first left home,” Stanley said. “She stayed over for a few weeks to make some money to fund her road trip to Texas. She was hot in love with this rodeo star from Austin. She claimed they were meant to be together and were going to get married.”
Blake Kincaid was not the marrying kind. Levi had heard about him from the boyfriend in Abilene and another in Baton Rouge. Kincaid had earned numerous championships—and was a notorious player on the rodeo circuit.
“You and Izzy were . . . friends?”
Stanley shrugged. “We hooked up, but Izzy had big dreams.” He gestured around the hardware store. “This business has been in my family for generations. I couldn’t leave Mobile.”
“Have you heard from her the past few days?”
“No.” Stanley looked worried. “Why? Is she in trouble?”
Levi debated how much to tell the man. “Her husband claims she’s missing. He’s concerned about her.”
“Izzy does have a way of attracting trouble.”
Same comment the other boyfriends had made. Levi laid his business card on the counter by the bowl of Christmas candy. “If she calls or you think of someplace she might go, let me know.”
Levi’s phone buzzed as he strode outside to his SUV. It was his ex-partner, Elsa Firestone, with the police department in Austin. The partner he’d let down when he’d botched that last case.
All because of a woman.
“Levi, I got a hit on the Beetle you asked me to track down.”
“Yeah? Where is it?”
“Georgia. A traffic camera caught the vehicle speeding through a red light in Atlanta.”
Levi straightened. Ray LaPone hadn’t thought Izzy would return to her hometown, but Atlanta was only a couple hours from the North Georgia mountains.
He started his engine and sped toward the interstate. He could be there in a few hours. And if he found Izzy, he’d have that money Ray promised him by tomorrow night. Then he could pay his brothers his share to fix up the ranch. They couldn’t let the legacy of the Silver Dollar die with their father.
Then he could forget about Izzy Sassafras with the mesmerizing eyes and the sweet-talking mouth, who’d left a trail of men in her wake.
The next morning, Izzy woke with a crick in her neck. She’d dreamed that Ray was chasing her with a hatchet, and that she managed to jump over a ravine. He’d tried to catch her, but he’d fallen in, and all her problems were solved.
Then she was standing in front of the mangled WELCOME TO MATRIMONY sign without a penny to her name, and debt collectors were snapping at her heels. Her sisters were also waiting and pummeled her with the handmade Christmas ornaments they were supposed to hang on the tree.
They obviously still hated her.
Although that wasn’t a dream—that was reality.