Mary London’s tinkling laugh blasts my ear. “’Course I’m okay, darlin’. I’m fixin’ to take you to lunch today. How’s Burgers & Blessings sound at one? A couple of my friends will be there and I want to introduce you around.”
I grimace at the offer—not that she can see it. Silas chuckles from right beside me where he’s shamelessly listening in on my conversation. I twist away from him and try to come up with an excuse.
“Oh, that’s so…nice. But I’m working straight through lunch today.”
“It’s all good, storm cloud. I can cover for ya,” Silas says loudly.
I twirl around to glare at him, which only makes him laugh.
“Oh good! See you there at one, darlin’!” Mary London hangs up before I can come up with yet another excuse.
I shove the phone in my purse and flip off Silas with both hands. “I don’t want to go to lunch with a bunch of chicken-fried Southern girls!”
Silas isn’t fazed in the slightest. He just hands me some go-backs and tells me the list of things we need to accomplish today. When he’s done, I’m still pissed.
“I could get a lot more than that done if I wasn’t gallivanting off to lunch today,” I growl.
Silas shakes his head, patient smile in place. He really does look nice in that button-up. It’s a slate blue, which matches his eyes. “The Betsy Mae I know isn’t capable of gallivanting.”
“Exactly!”
He puts his hands on my shoulders, which seems to be his favorite method of getting me to simmer down. “It’ll be good for you to make some friends, Betsy. Just smile and keep your thoughts inside your head. Oh, and don’t, under any circumstances, flip any of them off.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the fluttering in my belly with him leaning in so close, muscular forearms in my direct line of sight. “This is going to be hell.”
His grin is so bright I feel it down to my toes. “Nah, honey. This is Heaven.”
“You’re here!” Mary London squeals, jumping up from her chair at a large rectangular wooden table at the burger joint. I see trays of food already delivered and wonder if I’m late even though it’s one on the dot. She pulls me into a lung-squeezinghug and then releases me. “Girls, meet Betsy Mae. She’s Betsy Sue’s granddaughter.”
That’s one thing I’ve had to get used to here in the South. Everyone is introduced by who they’re related to, not their job or where they’re from.
Three women sit around the table, all with beaming smiles and two with various children hanging off of them. One woman shoves a chair out from the table in invitation, a throw over her shoulder and a lump in her arms. I realize quickly she’s breastfeeding a little one under there. I take the seat gratefully but try not to stare. What’s the etiquette for talking to a breastfeeding mom? Do I make eye contact or is that inappropriate with a human being attached to your nipple?
“Hey, Betsy Mae. I’m Darby Kate.” The woman sitting across from me saves me from shaking the baby’s foot in greeting or some other awkward move that’ll have them disliking me already. She isn’t breastfeeding, nor is there a child attached to her hip. She holds out her hand and I shake it over the table. “I’m Birdie’s grandniece.”
“Oh!” My face brightens. “Yes, I met Birdie at Nana’s the day I got here. She got me my job actually.”
“Darby Kate owns Blessed & Dressed,” Mary London interjects helpfully.
Our server, a cute blonde teen, comes over and asks if I need more time. I glance at the menu on the tabletop and just ask for a cheeseburger. They have every type of side you could want, including a few I’ve never heard of before (hush puppies?), but I choose the sweet potato fries. I thank her and turn back to Darby Kate.
“I’ve heard of your shop. You’ll be participating in the Battle of the Boutiques, then?”
Her painted lips stretch into a warm smile. She’s gorgeous, just like Mary London, just with different coloring. Her longdark hair is clipped back on one side with a sparkling clip and the caramel highlights throughout her hair are exquisite. She must pay a fortune to keep them looking so fresh.
“You bet! I can’t wait for the runway show. I have every little ol’ lady in Heaven locked in to walk for me.” She points at me. “Betsy Sue even said she’d show off some game day outfits for me.”
Nana didn’t tell me about that, but then again, we have so much to catch up on since I rarely saw her growing up. “I guess I should ask Silas if he’s picked out his models.”
“If I can get this baby weight off in time, I’ll be one of your models!” The mom next to me shifts closer. “I’m Palmer Collins, by the way.”
Mary London gasps, dabbing her napkin at her mouth. “I’m so sorry! Palmer, this is Betsy Mae.” She then points to the other woman at the table, the one with a toddler in her lap, mixing salt and ketchup together on a small plate. “And this is Anna Claire with her gem of a daughter, Ruby.”
I wave hello to both women feeling as awkward as I feared. As much as I want to brush this all off as silly, Silas is right. I should try to make some friends. I intend for Heaven to be my new home for the foreseeable future. Though I don’t trust men right now, I should open myself up to making true friends. Doesn’t hurt to have someone in your corner when you’re homeless and need a shoulder to cry on.
Mary London looks wistfully at Ruby as she forgets about the mess on the table and kisses her mama on the cheek. Tears fill Mary London’s eyes, though she blinks rapidly and tries to hide behind a smile. I’m getting the sense that she wants to be a mother herself. She’s gorgeous, sweet, and a successful boutique owner. I can’t fathom why she hasn’t married by now, but I also feel like we’re not close enough for me to ask that question. Maybe if we become friends, I can gently pry for specifics.
I look over at the breastfeeding mom, staring somewhere around her collarbone. “I don’t think you need to lose the weight. I’m sure Silas would be grateful for your services as a model.”
