He glanced toward Sadie. “Sure.”

Mr. Sullivan scanned Miss Olivia’s list and then the contents of the box before declaring the order filled. He hefted the box. “Ruth, get the door for me.”

“Sadie’s right there,” Ruth said. “She can get it.”

Sadie grabbed the handle, knowing Ruth’s father would scold her afterward for her poor manners.

After Mr. Sullivan and Miss Olivia walked through, Sadie waited until Ruth approached before she released the door. It closed in Ruth’s face.

Ruth’s outrage tickled Sadie as she opened the trunk for Mr. Sullivan, who placed the box in the rear compartment.

“Mr. Sullivan, would you be so kind?” Miss Olivia asked. “I’d like you to take a picture of Sadie and me. She’s my first friend in America, and I think that should be documented.”

Mr. Sullivan did not hesitate, but Sadie saw the tension rippling through his body. Miss Olivia stood in front of the Pontiac and waved Sadie to her side.

Sadie came closer, eyeing the camera like it was trouble. She had had her picture taken when she was little, along with her mother and brothers. Her daddy had declined to be included. Sitting there had been no good reason for him to have a picture taken. The picture still sat on the mantel over the fire, but she did not remember who took it or where.

Miss Olivia straightened her shoulders and angled her body sideways. Sadie, too nervous to pose, stared at the lens. “Sadie, you look as if you’re facing a firing squad.”

“Feels odd to me, I suppose. My pa never saw a good reason to have his picture taken.”

“Smile,” Ruth coaxed.

The two women stared at the camera. Miss Olivia’s smile was wide, whereas Sadie’s reflected her unease. Mr. Sullivan gently handed the camera back to Miss Olivia.

As Miss Olivia took her place in the back seat, Ruth hurried up to the car. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Carter. You let me know if there’s anything I can ever do for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth,” Miss Olivia said.

“Sadie, hope to see you again soon,” Ruth said with a wave.

Sadie slid behind the wheel, ignoring the hollow farewell. She started the car, revving the engine a little to impress the Sullivans.

She pulled away, and neither she nor Miss Olivia said a word. They drove back to Woodmont in silence, and after Sadie pulled around by the kitchen, she hefted the heavy box.

“Can you get that?” Miss Olivia said.

“Yes, ma’am. My mother says I’m part plow horse.”

“Does she?” Miss Olivia opened the kitchen door for her and watched as Sadie carried the box to the kitchen table. “Mrs. Fritz can unload it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miss Olivia reached for the copy of Life magazine and the bundled dress. She handed both to Sadie. “This is for you.”

“Me?” She held the slick, glossy paper and the wrapped dress. “Why?”

“I think you might enjoy both.”

The pages were smooth and the edges sharp, and the four ladies on the front, dressed in sparkly dresses with hair tumbling gently down to their shoulders, looked like starlets.

“Ruth seemed a bit disappointed she wouldn’t get a chance to read the issue,” Miss Olivia said. “And if you decide to go to that dance, you’ll need a dress.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her voice sounded tight like a drum. “Thank you.”

Miss Olivia smiled. “Enjoy.”

OLIVIA

It had been raining for three days, and now on this fourth day, the downpour stopped. The clouds remained dark and foreboding.

Olivia had found she could not stand to be cooped up in the main house. She needed to be moving about and breathing fresh air blowing in the open windows of the car.

When the back-right tire hit a slick spot on the road, the Pontiac skidded and jerked to the right. If Sadie had been driving, she would have easily corrected it. This kind of thing happened all the time, especially on back roads.

But Olivia had been driving. And when the wheels jerked and slid, she did not know what to do. Sadie reached over and grabbed the wheel. She avoided some of the looming disaster, but the car skidded off the road with a hard jolt.

Sadie insisted immediately that they switch seats. When Olivia’s nerves had calmed, Sadie had left her in the passenger car and hiked the two miles back to Woodmont for help. Several of the men had come and pushed the car out of the ditch. No one had been hurt. The car had suffered minimal damage.

But that night Olivia had lost her baby.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LIBBY

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Woodmont Estate

Libby had enjoyed the dinner and smiled as she wiped lemon cake from Sam’s mouth. The boy sat to her right during the meal and Jeff to her left. She had enjoyed their company and found their rough-and-tough banter very charming. Several times, she and Colton had shared a laugh over something one of the two had said.

“So, Libby, how do you know my mom?” Lofton asked.

Elaine’s daughter, the newly minted lawyer, had been studying Libby from the far end of the long table. She sat to her mother’s left, directly across from her dad.

“Like she said, I was shooting Ginger’s wedding here at Woodmont.”

Colton laid his napkin beside his plate. Though he remained silent, something in Lofton’s demeanor seemed to catch him by surprise.

“And you two must have hit it off?” Lofton asked.

Elaine’s smile dimmed, and she shifted her gaze to her daughter, as if she were waiting for a storm cloud to dump its rain. “Lofton, would you like another glass of wine?”

The young woman smiled at her mother. “No thanks, Mom. I guess I’m curious because it’s not like Mom to invite outsiders to family dinners.”

Colton, sitting to Libby’s right, shifted forward in his seat. He said nothing but did not take his eyes off Lofton.

“I grew up in Bluestone,” Libby said. “In fact, your dad took you to see my dad when you were a sick baby. My father was Dr. McKenzie.”

“He fixed you right up,” Ted offered. “You had a raging ear infection that could have cost you your hearing if gone unchecked.”

“What were we doing in town?” Lofton asked.

“Your great-grandmother Olivia had passed,” Elaine said. “We were here for the funeral.”

“But you and my mother had never met before the wedding?” Lofton continued.

“Correct.” Libby had attended a female boarding school and knew when she was being sized up. “Is there a point to these questions, Lofton?”

“I worry about my mom,” she said.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” Elaine said.

Lofton smiled, swirling her half-full glass of wine. This was her third, and the wine was beginning to talk.

Ted sat glaring at his daughter.

“That’s okay, Ted. I don’t mind Lofton’s questions. I’m an open book. Lofton, is there something you want to get off your chest before I leave?” Libby asked.

“Maybe,” Lofton quipped.

“Lofton,” Elaine warned. “She is our guest.”

“I’m sorry if you felt offended,” Lofton said.