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to Caine, and chewin’ his ear off as we speak. You know, the man you’re not in an emotional tailspin over?” Em showed her the text in yet another obvious bid to take her licks. It only made sense she’d think the subject of Louella Palmer would be the straw to break Dixie’s back.
Everyone in town probably thought the subject of Louella was a sore spot for Dixie. The real sore spot belonged to Louella, though, and she had every right to it.
Louella had once been her right-hand, helping her lead the Mags as if they were the mob—Southern contingency. They’d been frenemies of sorts then, and in the end just before Dixie left town, bitter rivals. Not only was Louella currently the head of the Magnolias, she was almost as good at mob relations as Dixie had been.
On the outside the Mags were refined and decorous, and they considered themselves the epitome of Southern grace and charm, but upon Dixie’s harsh inner reflections these past few years, they were all nothing more than elitist snobs with Southern accents—and she’d been the biggest one of all.
Of course Louella was sitting with Caine. It gave her plenty of time to remind him anew how Dixie was spawned from the loins of the devil.
Caine was already here, too. Dixie’s heart sped up as though someone had revved its engine, but her next words belied the storm brewing in her stomach. “You know what, Em? I hope Louella reminds him just how silly he was to ever get mixed up with the likes of Dixie Davis.”
Take that. She would not bite on the matter of Caine Donovan or Louella Palmer. The whole town had witnessed their messy breakup with Louella smack dab in the middle, and in a town as small as Plum Orchard, people were sure to speculate about their eventual meeting after all these years.
It was only natural—expected even. So why was she so jittery about it?
Because what you did was unforgiveable, Dixie. Then you ran away without so much as an apology.
Em’s expression was astonished, her eyes full of some good ol’ Southern shock. “I can’t believe you’re not biting, Dixie. How can you even be in the same room with him after everythin’ that happened between you?”
“Technically, we’re not in the same room. I’m in here, and he’s out there in the foyer.” Right out there. “And I no longer bite,” she teased, snapping her teeth in jest.
“For two people who were gonna get married and had the biggest breakup Plum Orchard’s ever seen, in the middle of the town’s square to boot, you sure are calm and collected.”
Her spine stiffened. Em just couldn’t seem to choose to love or hate her, and while Dixie recognized it as her due, the reminder of her and Caine’s breakup was still like a knife in the gut almost ten years later.
There’d been rain, and thunder, and shouting, and accusations, and even a small fire and finally, the death of their preordained relationship, left splattered all over the whitewashed wood-stained floor of the gazebo in the town square.
Dixie shivered. She would not revisit that horrific night today.
“I bet your mother’s still crying over all that money wasted on your fancy engagement party. Caine’s mama, too.”
Poke, poke, poke. Dixie knew for a fact her mother, Pearl, was still crying. She’d told her so from her sickbed in Palm Springs when she’d made Dixie promise to pass on her condolences to Landon’s mother. Though, her tears always had crocodile properties to them.
Pearl Davis didn’t cry genuine tears over human beings. She cried over investments lost, bank accounts in the red, and the merging of two prominent Plum Orchard families lost to her all because of Dixie.
And Caine’s mother, Jo-Lynne? She still didn’t speak to Pearl. Regret, sharp and just as vivid as if their breakup had happened only yesterday, left Dixie fighting an outward cringe.
Dixie, Landon and Caine’s mothers were all best friends once—the belles of Plum Orchard’s hierarchy aka the Senior Mags. So it was only natural their three children were virtually weaned from the same bottle. Just over two years older than Dixie, Landon and Caine had been her protectors since birth.
While their mothers had played canasta every Thursday, planned church events at Plum Orchard Baptist, and been a part of every social organization a small town finds imperative to good breeding and proper social connectivity, they’d also planned Dixie would one day marry one of the two boys.
Either one would do as far as Pearl, Jo-Lynne, or Landon’s mother, Charlotte, were concerned. They were all as good as family, the women used to say. That hadn’t quite worked out as planned after Landon confessed to their families he’d only marry Dixie if she had male parts. And Caine’s male parts didn’t interest him in the least.
Caine and Dixie had always known their mothers’ plans were fruitless where Landon was concerned, but as it turned out, the plan wasn’t so far-fetched when Dixie and Caine’s relationship took a turn toward romantic upon their simultaneous returns to Plum Orchard.
“So has Miss Jo-Lynne spoken to Miss Pearl since the ‘incident’ or is there still bad blood after all this time?” Em prodded with a smile.
Dixie shot her eyes upward. “Look, Landon, who knew you weren’t the only busybody in Plum Orchard? Emmaline’s going to carry the torch in your stead,” she teased, warmth in her voice.
Em swatted her with her plastic fan. “Oh, hush, and don’t you worry. There’s still plenty of busy to be had from Landon, Dixie Davis. Plenty.” She shot Dixie a secretive look with her sparkling blue eyes.
The same look she’d given her when Dixie had mentioned the phone call she’d gotten from Landon’s lawyer, insisting she be at the reading of his will.
That phone call still made no sense, and it would definitely hold her up. Her plan all along was to get herself in and out of Landon’s funeral lickety-split because she desperately wanted to avoid running into Caine, and Louella and the Mags, junior or senior.
Avoid running into them like she’d avoid a venereal disease—or hitting a brick wall at full speed, driving a Maserati. A foolish hope, no doubt. She should’ve known Caine wouldn’t miss Landon’s funeral, even if he was living in Miami now. Of course, Caine deserved to pay his last respects to Landon as much as Dixie did. He’d remained one of the best friends Landon had long after she and Caine had fallen out of one another’s good graces.
I will not pretend like neither one of you exist, Dixie-Cup. You’re both my friends. Y’all will always be my friends, and that’s just how it’s gonna be, whether you like it or not. Landon had said those words with a sweet-and-sour delivery after dropping a fond kiss on her forehead.
She’d loosely maintained her friendship with Landon around Caine, as well. After Landon’s refusal to walk on eggshells, he relayed information on Caine’s life and exploits. While Dixie would never admit it, she ate the scraps Landon fed her like a hungry stray dog.
Dixie turned, folding her arms across her chest to find Em with expectant hope in her eyes. “Okay, this is me biting. Care to explain exactly what that ‘plenty of busy to be had’ means? You are Landon’s attorney’s secretary, so you must know something. You’ve been giving me the side eye since I got here yesterday.”
Em’s eyes snapped back toward the doors, connecting the mourning room to Landon’s viewing room. “I’m just a lowly secretary. I know nothing you don’t know.”
Suspicion pricked Dixie’s internal antennae, making her narrow her grainy eyes. “You do know something, Em. My spidey senses are dull from the long drive from Chicago and fraught with grief, so just spit out whatever it is that’s made you so full you’re gonna burst.”
“I assure you, there’s nothing.” Em crossed her heart with two properly gloved fingers, gazing stoically at Dixie. And she didn’t even blink. “Now, I think we should get a move on before we’re thrown outta here for loitering.”
Outside the door buzzed with activity