“Hey, any woman who can cook biscuits without burning them is a star in my book.”

She opened up a plastic container and handed him one. “Don’t judge until you’ve tasted it.”

“Mmm.” He made appreciative noises at the first bite. “Amazing. You are now invited to go with me every Saturday that you want. I’ll even throw in an extra cantaloupe for the breakfast.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” she said. “But don’t pencil me in for every Saturday. The ladies could need me to drive them somewhere, and I sure wouldn’t want to take Cricket’s job.”

They ate in silence all the way to the market, where Rick backed his truck up to his regular stall. Jennie Sue was out of the vehicle and had the tailgate down before he could join her.

“So we put some of each on the table and then keep it replenished as the day goes on, right?” She was already filling one of the small baskets with tomatoes.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?” He picked up two huge watermelons and set them at the back of the wooden shelf.

“Nope, but I loved going to the market with Mabel when I was a little kid. I used to play farmers market at home after we’d been. This is going to be a fun day,” she told him.

Why oh why did she have to be so perfect in every way and so determined to leave Bloom? They were becoming friends, and there was a possibility that could lead to more.

Maybe.

Chapter Eight

Dill sat across the booth from Jennie Sue in the Main Street Café. They’d both ordered the chicken-fried steak special that Sunday afternoon. She didn’t mind the silence between them, yet with her father’s expression and the way he kept sighing, it wasn’t hard to guess that he had something on his mind.

“Spit it out, Daddy.” She pushed her empty plate back. “You’ve got something on your mind. So let’s clear the air and then go on to more fun things to talk about. I’m dying to tell you all about the farmers’ market and how much fun I had at the book club on Friday night.”

His gaze locked with hers across the table. “Your mother is mortified about what you are doing.”

“And you?” Jennie Sue asked.

“It’s complicated.”

She shook her head. “You don’t get to use that. It’s my generation’s go-to, not yours.”

He laid his paper napkin on the plate, picked up a half-empty glass of sweet tea, and took a sip. “But in this case, it’s the only word that describes the problem. Everything about your mother is complicated.”

“And you?”

“The same.”

“From the beginning?” she asked. “Were you both this complicated when you first got married?”

Dill nodded. “My grandfather Eugene Dillard Baker founded the Baker Oil Company, and it did very well in the days of the oil boom here in Texas.”

“So I get a history lesson?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You get the undercurrent of what it really means when I say it’s complicated. Listen and learn. So Gene turns over the company to my father, Robert Dillard, your grandfather Bob, who died when you were a toddler. The bottom fell out of the company, and we were struggling to keep afloat about the time that I finished college. The Wilshires stepped up and were willing to plow a lot of money into the company, but there was a catch—I had to marry your mother. With the marriage, she would retain eighty percent of the company.”

“I didn’t know they did that kind of thing thirty years ago.” She could hardly believe her ears.

“Honey, even these days they still do,” he sighed.

“Percy? Did you pay Percy?” That would explain a lot.

He nodded. “Not me. I was against it. I kind of liked that boy you brought home from college, but your mama said that she wasn’t havin’ a son-in-law that was constantly trying to analyze her with his psychology stuff, and besides, she thought you could do better. So Charlotte met Percy at some fund-raiser and pushed him toward you with the promise of investing in his sagging diamond business. She lost a good chunk of money when he took off.”

“She gave him money to marry me?” Jennie Sue’s voice sounded like her mother’s, even in her own ears.

“Not exactly. She kind of pushed him toward you, and then when he started to back off, she had a talk with him and—dammit, Jennie Sue, I wouldn’t have any part of it. But he said he wanted to support you in the style you were used to, and so your mother wrote him a check to buy into the diamond partnership with his cousin.”

Dill looked absolutely miserable.

“So basically, when you get right down to brass tacks, they came to an agreement. Did he propose before or after she gave him the check?”

He hesitated.

“It can’t get much worse. I guess somewhere down deep in my heart, I knew all along that something wasn’t right. Tell me,” she demanded in a shrill voice.

“After it cleared the bank,” Dill said. “In Charlotte’s defense, she wanted to be sure you were taken care of properly. Don’t be angry.”

“Oh, the naive ship already sailed, Daddy. I’m really, really mad, and I don’t know when I’ll be over it,” she said. Tears welled up, but she’d be damned to hell before she’d let anyone see her cry. Not over this pile of crap. For the first time in her life, Jennie Sue felt like throwing something at a nearby wall.

Dill had trouble looking her in the eye. “You shouldn’t know it now, but maybe it will help you understand the way things are.”

“Did you love Mama when you married?”

“I did.” Sadness peeked around the edges of his smile. “She was so beautiful and full of life. Those first five or six years were amazing. The business was good, and we had you and built our dream house.” He stared out the window as if he were looking back into the past.

“And then James came home from the service,” Jennie Sue said.

He jerked his head around so fast that she heard the bones crack. “Who told you about him?”

“When a person gets out of the glass bubble called the Baker house, they find out all kinds of things. So what happened when James came home?” Her father had been right when he said it was complicated. This whole thing had more layers than a big Vidalia.

“We hit a rough patch that never got smoothed out.” His voice cracked. “Our bubble burst, and we’ve—evidently you’ve figured out the rest.”

“I refuse to live like y’all have, Daddy. That’s not the life I want,” she said.

“Don’t expect you to, but it will take a miracle to ever get your mother to come around to your way of thinkin’, darlin’ girl.” Sadness filled his words. “Maybe I should just go.”

He should for real, but she couldn’t tell him that. Another layer of guilt lay on her shoulders. She’d blamed him, and even now, he wasn’t totally in the clear because he could have made the choice not to cheat. But at least she was beginning to understand both of her parents’ underlying motives.

“Stay,” she said. “Daddy, I don’t think I ever had real friends before now. Not in school, where I tried so hard to be the daughter Mama wanted. Not in New York, where I was just arm candy for Percy.”

“And you think you do now?” he asked.

She nodded. “I really do, and I don’t think they care about this Wilshire thing, but I’m not planning to stay here. If you won’t give me a job, I’ll go somewhere else. At my age, I need to start building seniority, to have benefits and all that. I need a fresh start where no one even knows me. But I’ve got a feeling the friends I’ve made this week will always keep in touch.”

“You hang on to them, darlin’. That kind of friendship isn’t easy to come by,” he said wistfully. “And forget the Wilshire curse.”

“I heard about the beginnings of the Wilshire and Clifford feud,” she said. “So, did Flora have sex with my great-grandfather at the bachelor party?”

“Have no idea. It was a he said/she said situation, but you know how the rumors go in this town. And call your mama in a few days. She’s got a hot temper, but she cools down after a while. In addition to everything else, she’s going to be fifty this fall, and it’s really tough on her to age.” He scooted out of the booth and bent to give Jennie Sue a kiss on the forehead. “Do you need anything? Can I take you home or to your apartment?”