Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
It was overwhelming. I’d still thought of myself as the troublemaker, the scared and angry teen who’d hitched a ride to Stix’s salvage yard, the loner who tried not to be noticed as much as possible. But now here they all were.
For me.
Somehow along the way, I’d become a true Thicketeer without realizing it.
Mal and Brooks came up behind Ava. “You got this,” Mal said.
“Give ’em hell,” Brooks added gruffly.
Ian shot me a calm, reassuring smile. “You have a strong case, Diesel. Let’s go convince the judge you’re Marigold’s future.”
I nodded and strode forward into the courtroom, almost believing his words. He was smarter and more experienced than I was, so maybe he knew more than I did about my chances.
But as soon as I looked at the raised dais where the judge sat, my stomach fell. Ian shuffled me to our table as reality came crashing down.
The bailiff stood forward to speak. “All rise. The Honorable Sarabeth Kelly presiding.”
I stared at Miss Sara in the somber black robes of a family court judge.
Miss Sara, as in Parrish’s landlady? The woman who knew everything? The woman Parrish had confided in about the sham engagement agreement, the marriage on paper only, and the horrible way I’d treated him when I’d gotten scared? God, she even knew his past with Payne’s own custody situation had been real.
“Miss Sara is a judge?” I managed to squeak out under my breath.
Ian turned a concerned look at me. “Don’t worry. She’s more than fair. She taught my torts class at Vanderbilt years ago before she took the bench.”
“But… but she runs a B&B…”
He chuckled. “That was her husband’s pet project. I think she keeps it going to honor his memory, although how she manages to run it while she’s also working the family court circuit, I have no idea.”
I tried one more time. “She wasn’t our judge at the first hearing.”
He shook his head. “The judges rotate between here and a couple of other courthouses around the county. It’s the luck of the draw on who’s presiding on any given day.”
All the blood had left my face, and my body felt completely numb. The luck of the draw had just lost me my most precious girl, the only family I had left on this earth.
“Oh,” I said stupidly.
21
Parrish
I’d had it all planned out. It was going to be perfect. Perfect. Uncle Beau had discovered the holding company that owned the old Victorian behind Diesel’s place was actually owned by his friend Sammy Frye. I’d met Mr. Frye on several occasions at Beau’s country club when Uncle Beau had dragged me along and forced me to pretend to know how to golf.
“We just need to drive down there and convince him to sell it to us,” Beau had said to me over the phone. “We’ll zip down there, take him to breakfast, and then get you back to the Thicket in plenty of time for the hearing. Just think! You’ll ride in on your proverbial white horse with a brand-new home for your brand-new family. Why, it’ll be fan-spankin’-tastic.”
But I’d forgotten the most annoying thing about Sammy Frye.
Mrs. Frye and her “just perfect for you!” granddaughter Ophie, both of whom joined us for brunch. Ophie blushed and tittered at me, bless her heart, and Aunt Marnie asked me at full volume how my husband was. None of it mattered—Mrs. Frye spent the entire hour and a half trying to matchmake us, and Mr. Frye spent the entire hour and a half trying to get me to agree to a round of golf before discussing the house purchase.
I finally laid all my cards on the table. “Mr. Frye, I’m real sorry about this, but I have a very important court hearing to get to back in the Thicket. Would it be possible to meet you for that golf game another day? And maybe we could talk about the house then too?”
He flapped his hand and smiled. “Naw. I brought the paperwork for the house, so we can go ahead and get that out of the way as long as you’re willing to pay the appraisal amount. But I’ll hold you to the golf game, son. Don’t you worry about that. Then maybe after that, you and Ophie can go for a sandwich over at the soda fountain.”
He wasn’t kidding. Elliston Place Soda Shop had been restored to its former glory, and Mr. Frye’s dream of having his granddaughter meet up at the same place he’d most likely taken Mrs. Frye once upon a time was probably too good to pass up.
“Yes, sir,” I said, shooting Ophie an apologetic look even though she’d seemed as oblivious as her grandparents had been. “Maybe I can bring my husband and… our daughter too.”
The words were more of a wish than a reality, but I used them anyway. Aunt Marnie let out a sigh of happiness, and Uncle Beau had clapped me on the shoulder in support.