Jolene sighed. “Then don’t tell her anything, and maybe she really will come on back to Jefferson. As far as me and Tucker, we’re partners. That’s all. I can’t get involved with him, Dotty, not unless and until he unloads all that emotional baggage, and even then it’s iffy.”

“Life’s too short to be carryin’ around heavy burdens. You both need to get rid of the past. Treat it like it’s a material possession. Like Sugar did. She gave you everything that wouldn’t fit in an RV and drove off with Jasper like a couple of newlyweds,” Dotty said. “I wish I’d really sold the bar, got me an RV and a feller to drive it, and gone with her. God, I miss that woman. She was the most levelheaded one of us.”

“It’s not too late. I bet you could catch up to them in a week, but I’d sure miss you,” Jolene said.

Dotty patted her cheek. “I can’t leave you now, chère. I promised Sugar that I’d look after you until you were settled. Got to get back to my end of the bar, now.”

Jolene was glad that Dotty had shifted spots, but now Tucker was on her mind. She wondered if he would stick around after the remodeling was done. Or if he’d get bored with a B&B, move his trailer back to Marshall, and just collect the money from the place.

Tucker waited until Jolene left for work that evening, and then he and Sassy made a couple of trips back and forth, bringing in the rest of his things from the trailer. He put everything away and laid out his date-night outfit—starched jeans, ironed pearl-snap shirt, polished boots—just like Melanie liked for him to wear on Saturday night. After a quick shower, he got dressed, told Sassy that she was in charge until either he or Jolene got home, and headed for the bar. Only this time he didn’t turn north to go to the Tipsy Gator, but south instead. He’d been to a little dive in the backwoods down near the interstate, and that’s where he planned to go.

“Don’t matter if we go to a steak house or get tacos from a wagon and eat them in a park as long as we’re together. I’m not letting go of her,” he said out loud. “I will not forget that Saturday is date night.” He turned on the radio to his favorite country music station and kept time to the music with his thumbs on the steering wheel.

He always thought about Melanie as he drove to the bar on Saturday night. It was his time to replay highlights of their years together. It might be every detail he could remember about their wedding or their first fight or just crazy incidents that had happened during their five-year marriage. But that night it was about their last night together.

They’d sat out by the lake on a quilt, talked about starting a family, but decided to wait one more year. After all, midthirties wasn’t too old to be a mommy and daddy, and it still gave them time to have the children they’d always talked about. The stars had been bright that night, and the moon was full. If only he’d known that in twenty-four hours his world would fall apart, he would have done things differently.

When he reached the bar, finding a parking spot wasn’t a problem, but getting inside the bar was a different matter. There was a note on the door that simply said the place was closed and for sale.

I want tacos, not beer or Jack and Coke, Melanie said so clearly that he could’ve sworn she was walking beside him.

“Not tonight, darlin’. I need a few drinks to sharpen my memories of you. I’m enjoying being around Jolene entirely too much,” he said as he got back into the truck. “If I’d waited a few weeks, I could have owned a bar instead of a bed-and-breakfast,” he grumbled as he headed to the Southern Comfort. The drinks were more expensive and the crowd a little high-class for his taste, but maybe Melanie wouldn’t fuss about tacos if she saw he was taking her to a fancy place.

Everything happens for a reason.

“You’re in my head again. Dammit, Melanie, the way you pop in and out makes me dizzy.” He caught the interstate going west.

Let me go. You can only keep the memories if they don’t destroy you. And it’s okay if you have feelings for Jolene.

“I should have gone to the store that night,” he said.

He listened intently, but she was gone. A song came on the radio that brought back a memory of the two of them dancing in their bare feet in the backyard one night when they’d taken their burgers to go and spent the night at home. He smiled and waited. Still no Melanie.

The parking lot at the Southern Comfort wasn’t as crowded as the Tipsy Gator always was on Saturday night. He found a spot not far from the door and headed inside. There was a barstool open away from everyone else, which was a good sign.

It’s a fancy place, a club, so don’t fuss at me, Melanie.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

The kid hardly looked old enough to be pouring drinks. He was dressed in skintight pants and a knit shirt. A lock of blue hair hung down over one eye. There was live music—a piano player, who had a fantastic voice if a person liked that kind of music.

Tucker didn’t. He wanted classic country music coming from a jukebox and some boots stomping on the hardwood floor.

“Double shot of whiskey, neat,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Want me to start a tab?”

Tucker took a bill from his wallet and laid it on the bar. “No, I’ll pay as I go.”

The bartender flipped his blue hair to the side. “You’re almost a dollar short.”

Tucker put two more dollars on the bar. “Keep the change.”

He sipped at the drink for more than half an hour as he thought about what he planned to do the next morning while Jolene slept.

“Another?” the kid asked. “Or would you like me to make you something different?”

Melanie had stopped talking to him, so evidently she didn’t like this place.

“No, thank you,” Tucker said as he slid off the stool. “You have a good night.”

The kid answered with a wave.

Tucker got into his truck and pointed it toward Jefferson. He intended to go straight to the Gator, but with his mind on Melanie, he suddenly found himself parked outside the inn.

“Dammit!” He slapped the steering wheel. “This is one sorry date night when we get home at eight o’clock.”

Everything happens for a reason. Her voice singsonged in his head.

“Is that all you are ever going to say to me from now on?” he asked.

Nothing. Not a single word or aura answered his question.

“Okay then, ignore me. I proved last week that I don’t need a bar.” He stormed into the house, poured two fingers of whiskey, took a drink, and carried it to the living room. “Easier on the wallet, anyway.” He kicked off his boots and sat down in the recliner. “And more comfortable.”

He took another sip and set the glass on the end table. Without finishing his drink, he left it behind, wandered upstairs, and leaned against the doorjamb of the room he’d been working on. It was going to be a really nice room when they finished. Sassy wove around his legs, but when he ignored her, she went into the bathroom, jumped into the tub, and curled up. With a sigh, Tucker picked up his tool belt and began to cover the new bathroom with drywall. Sassy slept right through it all.

He didn’t even hear Jolene coming in or walking up the stairs until he felt her presence behind him. “What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s after three in the morning,” she answered. “Why are you workin’ now? I thought you didn’t do anything past your four hours on Saturdays.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“I’m surprised. Last Saturday night you were still out when I got home.” She yawned.

“No, I wasn’t. I got home about two thirty that night. I was passed out in my bedroom when you got home.” He removed his tool belt and laid the nail gun to the side. “That was the last piece. After it’s bedded and taped, we can set the rest of the fixtures in here and put up the tub enclosure.”

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Yep. I’ll get washed up. We got any of them doughnuts left that we bought a couple of days ago?”

“They won’t be fresh, but we can throw some butter on the top and give them twenty seconds in the microwave,” she said as she started downstairs.

He went to the bathroom at the end of the hallway and washed his hands and forearms.

He noticed on his way down the stairs that the railing was loose near the newel post and made a mental note to get that fixed. Sassy caught up with him in the foyer, and he bent to pet her.

“It feels strange to be sober on date night,” he whispered.

The cat meowed at him and led the way into the kitchen, where he poured out a dozen of her special treats. “That’s payment for helping me get things done tonight,” he said and then turned to Jolene. “You made hot chocolate?”

“Just the kind out of a package. I like doughnuts dipped in it,” she said.

So had Melanie, he thought. And cookies and even peanut butter sandwiches. Sounded terrible, but it wasn’t so bad.

“Guess who came to the bar tonight?” She didn’t give him time to answer, but went right into the story of Lucy and Everett.

He was relieved that she didn’t ask why he hadn’t dived into the bottle that night, because he didn’t have an answer, and he sure didn’t feel talking about it.

“Sounds to me like those old gals could hang out a shingle for therapy. Lucy has been cured, and according to Dotty, they took care of her problem a long time ago.”

“Therapists keep you coming back so they can make a living,” Jolene said. “It’s easy to talk to a stranger who’s bound by law to never breathe a word of what you told them. You can tell them anything, and they just nod and ask you how you felt about it. They never tell you how to fix it. You’re supposed to figure that out on your own.” She put two doughnuts on a saucer and put them in the microwave.

“Sounds like you’re speakin’ from experience.”

“I went to one a couple of times.” She took the doughnuts out and set the plate on the table.