Charmingly Yours (A Morning Glory #1) (24 page)

“That sounds really cool, Mr. Odom. I’m looking forward to seeing his Boy Scout patch collection.”

“And don’t forget to ask him about all the World War II stuff. The man could open a museum with the things he has in that old barn,” Fred Odom said, not even registering that Sal looked as if he might pass out from the heat and humidity. “Oh, here she is now. Rosemary, this young man has been looking for you.”

Rosemary waved her thanks and then had to wait as three cars went by. She jogged across the street. “Hi, Mr. Odom.”

“Hello, Rosemary,” Fred said, digging in his bag. “I was just about to deliver your mail to you and now you can save me the trip.”

“Oh, well, could you take it to the shop, please?” she said, waving off the stack of mail.

“Course I can. Hey, did you see Rita Harmon’s new gazebo?” Fred asked, leaning close. “Told everyone in town she special ordered it from some fancy place in Jackson, but everyone knows she got it at the Big Lots.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen it. Uh, can you excuse us, Mr. Odom? I need to talk to Sal privately.”

“Oh sure. I’ll see you in church on Sunday.” Fred ambled away, leaving her and Sal standing in the middle of downtown Morning Glory.

Sal panted. “It’s like really hot, Rosemary. How do you people do it? I might be having a heatstroke.”

“Come on,” she said, taking his elbow and heading toward her store. She’d taken her lunch break at the Lazy Frog, and Lorraine, the lady who worked with her, needed to take hers. That should give her and Sal some much-needed privacy.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To my store. You need water and air-conditioning.”

“You want to call me a pansy New Yorker, don’t you?” he joked. He acted like he hadn’t flown down to Mississippi. Or driven. Or whatever. He acted like it was any other day.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He stopped by the bench she often sat on to eat lunch when the temperature wasn’t near one hundred degrees. “What do you think I’m here for?”

She turned, thankful they at least stood in the shade of a huge oak tree. Sal’s face resembled a beet and his shirt was damp. Of course, that was a good thing, because it clung to his chest. “I don’t know.”

“I’m looking for real estate.”

Rosemary felt her heart drop into her stomach. She clasped her belly beneath her thin navy dress. “What?”

“I did a little research and found out that the only pizza places y’all have are national chains. Did I use ‘y’all’ correctly?”

Rosemary blinked a couple of times and then she shook her head. “Wait, you’re looking for . . . you are opening a pizza place? Here? In Morning Glory?”

He nodded. “Sal’s Downtown Pizza. Or Sal’s New York Pizza. Not sure. What do you think?”

Rosemary sank onto the bench, mostly because her knees finally buckled. “I think I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“What’s not to understand? I fell in love with the most amazing woman and I’m unwilling to be a thousand miles away from her.” He looked around. “I like your town. The weather? Not so much.”

She glanced up. “You’re moving here? Because of me?”

He dropped down beside her. “Rosemary, I’m not in a relationship with that Italian witch. I never have been. She and my parents had an agenda that contained her, the deli, and, I don’t know, a mortgage and kids. But that’s not what I wanted. For a while, I thought I should go with it. I’ve never had a great a track record with things working out in my life, but I met you and . . .” He spread his hands out.

“You’re a New Yorker.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, a wry grin appearing. “But I’m thinking I’d like to give the South a try. I’ve been practicing my y’alls, and Mr. Odom has already invited me over to his neighbor’s house to see some Boy Scout stuff. Oh, and the lady at the gas station right outside town already invited me to visit her church. I think I’m going to fit right in.”

Rosemary started laughing. Because Sal with his Brooklyn accent and Bronx bar T-shirt collection would never fit in. “You’re going to visit a church.”

“Sure. Of course, I’m Catholic and it was hard enough on my parents when I told them I was moving here. I had to get a map of the US to show them where it was. So I’m not sure if I can go Baptist on them or anything.” His smile was like Manhattan. Blinding. Seductive. The most exciting thing she’d ever experienced.

Rosemary shook her head.

“What?” he said, spreading his hands. “I can fit in. I’ll get some plaid shorts and knot a sweater around my neck. Oh, and some cowboy boots. And a spitting cup.”

Rosemary laughed harder. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t got a tattoo on my ass, do I?”

“Shh!” Rosemary said, pressing a finger against his lips and looking around. A bit of a crowd had formed. Lorraine had come outside Parsley and Sage, and her friends, Sassy, and the Crabtrees stood pressed against the Lazy Frog’s window.

“Okay, but what I’m trying to say, Rosemary Reynolds, is that I love you and I will go wherever you go. If this is where you belong, it’s where I’ll belong.”

Rosemary’s laughter turned to tears. “You’re serious.”

“You’re damn right I am.”

She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. “This is—”

“How love works. You roll the dice, you take the chance, and you hope like hell it pays off.” He paused, his brown eyes pleading. “Is it going to pay off?”

Rosemary swallowed and shook her head. Emotion overwhelmed her at the thought of this man giving up his life in New York City so he could move to Morning Glory . . . so he could love her.

“’Cause I gotta tell you, it’s gonna be uncomfortable with both of us living here. I read there’s only six thousand people, so we’re gonna run into each other at the market sometimes and I can’t be responsible if I follow you around and cry and stuff.”

“Sal, I can’t believe this,” she said, reaching out to touch his sweaty face. “You love me?”

“More than I ever knew I could love anything. This past week away from you was hell. Not to mention I had to tell my parents I’m leaving Brooklyn and that’s why I needed the map. My ma cried, but I promised to bring you up for Thanksgiving or something. Then I cleared out my apartment, packed my junk, and bought you a car.” He dangled a set of keys. “I was going to go with an engagement ring, but then I saw this perfect car outside Jersey.”

He pointed to a pink Cadillac convertible and then he got down on one knee.

Rosemary stood up and looked at the car. “Is that a 1959 Series 62 in Elvis pink?”

“Yep.”

“You bought me the Elvis convertible?” Her voice reflected how stunned she was at what sat across the square from them.

“Yep. Now I know a ring is a typical engagement gift, but when I saw this, I knew this was perfect for my old-fashioned Mississippi girl.”

“You bought me a pink convertible?” she repeated, looking at the vintage beauty gleaming in the sun. How she’d missed it before she didn’t know. Probably because all she could look at was the gorgeous New Yorker planted in the middle of her world.

Sal made a face. “Damn it. I told you I’m not great with decisions. I should have—”

Rosemary launched herself into his arms, knocking him back onto the very green grass, and then she kissed him in front of God and Morning Glory.

He started laughing as she covered his face with kisses. “I’m hoping that’s a yes.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” she shouted, rolling onto her back and laughing.

Then Rosemary heard Lorraine start yelling, “Someone help Rosemary. That man is attacking her!”

Rosemary sat up and waved her hands. “No, no, Lorraine! I’m fine. I’m more than fine! I’m getting married!”

And that’s when she heard Eden and Jess whooping and hollering. Her nosy besties had cracked the swinging door of the Lazy Frog and had been listening.

Nothing like making a spectacle of oneself in the town square. Rosemary figured her mother would be aghast, but she didn’t give a good damn. She’d never been so happy in her entire life. Sal loved her.

Sal. Loved. Her.

Sal sat up and blinked. “Not even been here two hours and someone is trying to have me arrested. Nice welcome,” he said with a smile.

Rosemary took the keys from his hand. “I’ll drive the getaway car.”

“To where?”

“Well, it’s time to introduce you to southern living. Hmm . . . you ever been skinny-dipping?”

“Yeah, I’m a New Yorker,” he said, puffing out his chest.

“In a pond with gators?”

“Now that sounds like a challenge.”

Rosemary leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you for loving me this much. I promise to spend the rest of my life making it worth your while.”

He pulled her into his lap. “Oh, baby, it already is.”

And as Rosemary kissed Sal, she could have sworn she smelled Lacy’s signature perfume—Beautiful. Which was crazy, but maybe not. After all, Lacy had set all this in motion. Her last gift to her friend had been something way more than taking an art lesson or experiencing being a SoHo girl for a few weeks. No, Lacy did things big. She’d given Rosemary a love of a lifetime.

Acknowledgments

A warm thank-you to Phylis Caskey, Jennifer Moorhead, and Winnie Griggs for their support and advice. Also, I’d like to thank my talented editors—Kelli Martin and Melody Guy—along with the Wisconsin wonder, Michelle Grajkowski. I’m surrounded by strong, intelligent women who have big hearts. What a blessing you all are.

Sneak peek at

Perfectly Charming

The New Morning Glory Novel from Liz Talley

COMING IN FALL 2016

Chapter One

Jess Culpepper, formerly Jess Mason, stared at the envelope sitting in the center of her table and then slid the final documents inside, sealing them with the double prong. In her craptastic handwriting, she scrawled “Divorce Papers” across the front. There. They were now ready to be added to the filing cabinet beside her cramped desk, filed somewhere between business receipts and federal income tax returns. Just another chapter in her life relegated to a file.

“That’s it. Finished,” she said to the apartment she’d occupied for the past six months. Her austere apartment didn’t answer back. She’d never added any homey touches to the place, preferring the white walls and utilitarian carpet over anything that might look like she gave a damn. She hadn’t wanted to live here anyway. Sky Oaks Condominiums. A romantic name for a bunch of boxy, plain apartments.

She picked up one of the salt and pepper shakers Lacy had brought back from New Orleans when they were fourteen. A comical gift typical of her late friend. The pepper shaker was a frog groom; the salt was the bride. When lined up properly, the pair kissed.

Silly like Lacy.

Her friend had laughed and said they reminded her of Jess and her boyfriend, Benton. Lacy had wiggled her eyebrows.
Maybe he’ll kiss you finally.

No one had thought it strange that Jess had used the cheap ceramic shaker set atop her wedding cake. She even had a cute picture of her and Benton kissing behind the cake, mimicking the frogs. People had loved the personal touch, the fact that two childhood sweethearts had married each other. Till death do them part.

Or rather, until someone changed his mind and screwed their florist.

The doorbell rang, the door opening immediately after. “Yoo-hoo?”

Eden.

“Hey,” Jess said, rising from the table, catching the swish of Eden’s black pageboy from the corner of her eye. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

Eden scooted inside the apartment and shut the door. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, Jess.”

“We live in Morning Glory. The biggest crime wave we’ve ever had was when those high school kids came over from Jackson, knocked down mailboxes, and left a dead cow carcass on the high school football field.” Jess went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of white zinfandel and waggled it. “Vino?”

“God bless you,” Eden said, tossing her flip phone on the coffee table and dropping onto the plush couch, toeing her sneakers off and wiggling her toes. “I’m not sure how much longer I can work at Penny Pinchers.”

Jess smiled. Eden said that every day. Seriously. Every day. The woman had been working at Penny Pinchers since she was sixteen. She was now the manager at twenty-eight. “Youngest manager in Mississippi,” her regional manager liked to crow as he ogled Eden’s boobs. “So quit.”

“You know I can’t,” Eden said, accepting the glass of sweet, cold wine and curling her feet beneath her. “Mama’s with Aunt Ruby Jean. We had the annual Voorhees reunion at the church today. Honestly, we’re lucky lightning didn’t strike when we stepped in the place. It was a potluck and Aunt Ruby took Mama home and gave me the evening to pretend I’m a normal person.”

Eden Voorhees had been Jess’s first friend, smiling at the new girl who was tall, skinny, and slightly bucktoothed as she balanced her lunch tray and looked desperately around for someone to sit with that first day back in fourth grade. Eden had patted the round stool attached to the lunch table and told Jess to sit down. Jess had adored the shy Eden ever since.

Her friend wore her crappy life like a backpack, strapped on and never complaining. Well, at least not much. Bless her pea-pickin’ heart. Since her mother was a stripper/crack addict and her stepfather was in prison for armed robbery, it was a bloomin’ miracle the girl had blossomed into the kind, hardworking, beautiful woman she’d become. Eden liked to credit her surviving hell with the friendships she’d made with Jess, Rosemary, and Lacy early on. But Jess knew goodness such as Eden possessed didn’t fade away under the duress of hardship. Goodness like Eden’s was a flower in a bed of weeds, stretching up toward the sun, refusing to be choked out.

Presently, Eden worked at the local Penny Pinchers and took care of her now handicapped mother. She’d missed out on frat parties, keggers, and beach trips to stay home and mark down cheap crap from China and change her mother’s diapers. Eden deserved a medal. Or at least more than what she’d been handed.

“So it’s final. Are you okay?” Eden asked, eyeing Jess with concern.

“I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jess said.

“Why would anyone be suicidal over that jerk face?” Eden responded, picking up the remote control. “You talk to Rosemary yet?”

“Yeah, but she’s busy having fun in NYC. I don’t want to piss in her punch,” Jess said, frowning when Eden settled on reruns of
Bones
. She was so not in the mood for gore. But then the idea of rom-com made her want to hurl.

“She’s never too busy for you. You know that. But I’m so glad she’s met someone fun. She got a tattoo,” Eden remarked, hooking an eyebrow inquiring about her programming choice.

Jess shook her head. She didn’t want to watch TV or talk about the fun Rosemary was having with a certain Italian guy in SoHo . . . even though she was truly happy for her. And she damned sure didn’t want to look at that envelope sitting on the table like a knot on a log. And she didn’t want to drink last night’s wine.

No, Jess wanted to forget about the reality that was her life.

“Let’s ditch the flesh being dumped in a tub of worms”—she gave a shudder—“and go to the Iron Bull.”

Eden blinked. “I’m not exactly dressed for a bar. I’m wearing tennis shoes.”

“So? You look cute.”

“I look like I work at Penny Pinchers.”

“I’ll loan you a shirt. And some hoop earrings. Hoop earrings always make a gal look stylish.” Jess rose and walked toward her lonely bedroom. It looked like the rest of the apartment—uniformly uninteresting, the antithesis of the three-bedroom cottage she’d shared with Benton for six years. Their house had been adorable. Everyone said so. Three months after Benton left, she sold it to a man who worked for the paper mill. The new buyer was divorced and had let the flower beds go to weeds. She could barely bring herself to drive by the place.

“I don’t have big enough boobs for your shirts,” Eden called out.

“I have some clingy things that will work,” Jess said, opening the closet, feeling determined to do something about the depression she’d been courting for almost a year. So Benton didn’t want her anymore? So he’d divorced her? Said he needed to experience life . . . whatever. So did she. The divorce was done. Over.