“A bikini isn’t immodest. Neither is a little nightgown.” Kalista rolled her eyes. “It’s not like it’s see-through.”
“It’s too short and leaves too little to the imagination.” Viv crossed her arms. “I don’t want you to embarrass Bo if he drops by. There are also men working outside and getting the property ready for Saturday.”
Although Viv’s tone was kind, Kalista scowled anyway and slipped on the frumpy housecoat. Her skin recoiled at the polyester fabric, the pattern straight out of the seventies—large yellow flowers on an avocado green background. “Where did you get this thing?”
“It belonged to Bo’s mother.” Viv shut the door. “It’s vintage, by the way. Don’t be so condescending.”
Kalista put her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t have worn this a few years ago.”
Viv faced her. “I’ve grown up since then. Do you want sausage gravy with your biscuits?”
“Ew, carbs.”
Viv sighed. “Suit yourself,” she said, and walked out of the room.
Kalista plopped down on the edge of the bed and folded her arms over her chest. Viv had picked her up from the airport in Little Rock yesterday, and they had caught up during the drive to Clementine. But it wasn’t long into their conversation that Kalista realized Viv was different. When they got to Bo’s house where Viv was living until they got married, he’d already gone to bed in something called a bunkhouse. Kalista was still trying to comprehend that Viv was engaged to an almost fifty-year-old farmer who’d never been married before.
Then there was the house—a fifties-era cottage with only two bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen with linoleum flooring, and a small living room that featured a TV on a stand. How could anyone live in a place so small, even if they were single? When Viv and Daddy were married, she decorated their massive LA house in the latest style, and everything was expensive and chic, not country bumpkin. The woman had gone allLittle House on the Prairie.
She reached for her phone and checked for any texts or voice-mails. She’d let her friends know she was leaving “on vacation” but didn’t tell them where—just gave hints that it was somewhere tropical and expensive and that she’d be gone awhile. Huh. Not a single call or message, not even from Ryan. She thought about calling him, then remembered it was way too early. Her friends rarely stirred until noon.
Scratching her arm, she felt the polyester fabric again and jumped up from the bed. Her skin didn’t need this kind of abuse.She opened one of her Louis Vuitton suitcases and searched for something to wear to her interview. Finally deciding on a crimson off-the-shoulder dress and sandals, she got dressed, then squeezed into the minuscule bathroom and peered at her reflection. Ugh, the humidity was already frizzing her blond hair, so she swept it up in a long ponytail to hide the state of it.
“Kalista, breakfast is ready!” Viv called from the kitchen.
“Be there in a minute.” She needed to do her makeup and apply a generous amount of hairspray to the flyaways that were already escaping her ponytail.
“Kitchen’s closing in ten minutes,” Viv said. “You eat now, or you don’t eat at all.”
“What a crabby patty,” Kalista muttered. She didn’t remember Viv being so militant either. Oh well, she’d scarf down a piece of bacon, finish getting dressed, then find a decent coffee shop for a much-needed cappuccino. Surely there was one in downtown Clementine.
Viv was at the kitchen sink washing dishes in a white apron with a frilly red hem. She turned and tilted her head toward the round table. “Help yourself... Wait.” Viv dried her hands and faced her. “You’re not wearing that to your interview.”
“What’s wrong with this?” First, she’d criticized her nightwear, and now she was fussing about her cute outfit. It was certainly modest enough. There was nothing indecent about a bare shoulder.
“You look like you’re going to a cocktail party.” Her expression grew soft. “You’ve never been to a job interview before, have you?”
Kalista lifted her chin. Until now, she’d never needed to. What was the point of having an über-rich father if she had to work for her money?
Viv pulled out a chair. “Let’s have breakfast first. Then we’ll look at the clothes you brought. Surely you have something suitable.”
“Thisissuitable,” she muttered and sat down.
Viv placed a small plate with one boiled egg and two pieces of bacon in front of Kalista. Then she poured two cups of coffee and joined her at the table. Kalista had just picked up one of the bacon strips when Viv took her hand.
“We pray before our meals,” she said softly.
Kalista set the bacon down. Viv closed her eyes and prayed silently while Kalista stared at her plate. She’d never prayed or gone to church in her life. Her daddy always played golf on Sundays, and her other stepmothers always slept in.Like I should be doing.
When Viv finished, she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “Bo’s coming over for supper tonight. He’s eager to meet you. We’re having pork chops, baked potatoes, and salad. Would you mind going to the Piggly Wiggly after your interview and picking up a few things?”
“The wiggle what?”
“Piggly Wiggly. That’s our closest grocery store, and there’s been so much to do lately I haven’t had time to stock up for your visit. I’ll give you a list and some money. Feel free to get what you want to eat too.”
“Do they have a sushi bar?” She bit into the bacon. Wow. It was delicious.
“Ah, no.”
