"No, ma'am. I can find what I need, but if you'd have a dressing room ready in about thirty minutes, I would appreciate it," I said.

I expected Billy Lee to groan at the idea of thirty minutes, but he just smiled.

The clerk was coolly polite. "I'll be right here in this section. You come on back and find me when you're ready, and I'll be sure you get right into a dressing room."

She didn't give me a brilliant, I'm-going-to-make-a-thousanddollar-commission smile, but, hey, she didn't slap a hanky over her nose, either. I was wearing a pair of jeans with a bleach spot on the knee, a knit shirt with Donald Duck on the front, and stained white tennis shoes. Billy Lee wore his usual bibbed overalls and a chambray shirt. Sell us a pitchfork, and we could rival Grant Wood's artwork.

I gathered clothing, and Billy Lee sat in a plush chair outside the dressing room.

I went into the dressing room with a ton of clothes draped over my arm, and not one thing fit. I was relieved when the salesclerk asked from the other side of the door if she could be of assistance.

"Thank you so much," I said. "Everything I've picked up is too big. I've worn a sixteen women's petite for ten years. Have they changed the sizing?"

"Not that I know about. Throw everything over the door, and I'll find you the same things in a fourteen."

I began tossing an enormous number of three-hundreddollar dresses and slacks suits over the door. I'd intended to buy one pantsuit and maybe two dresses for church, but everywhere I'd looked, something else had caught my eye-and none of it was black.

"I took the liberty of bringing a few more items. You have such lovely skin and beautiful eyes and hair that I thought you'd look good in a clear red"

I stuck a hand out and hauled in a dozen hangers. She was a smart cookie. Flattery would get her a nice commission that day.

"What size shoe do you wear? I could look for something that would go with the outfits for you, so you can see what they'd look like," she said.

I'd just acquired my own personal gofer-clerk. I'd had them before but had never appreciated a single one until that moment. "That would be wonderful. Size seven and a half. B width."

I picked out red slacks and a matching top, a lovely floral summer skirt and mint-green cotton short-sleeved sweater, a nice Capri set in bright yellow, two Sunday dresses, and shoes to match each of the outfits.

She carried the whole pile to the checkout counter and flinched slightly when I pulled out my checkbook.

"That's an out-of-state check, so I'll need to see some ID"

I could read her mind. She was thinking that she'd spent two hours with me, and now I was about to write a check that could bounce all the way to the moon.

I flipped open my wallet to show her my new driver's license-short hair and all-and my bank card. "I realize this is a big sale and I'm from out of state. Please feel free to call my bank if it will make you feel better. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble.

She swallowed hard, trying to decide whether to offend me or take a chance.

I smiled brightly. "Go ahead and make the call. Phone number for the bank is right there in small print."

It was worth the wait to see the look on her face. By the time she hung up the phone, she was almost singing. "Thank you for being such a good sport about this. I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting. My name is Desiree. Be sure to ask for me next time." She carefully hung the clothing in garment bags.

Billy Lee carried the bags when we left the store and waited until we were completely out into the mall before chuckling under his breath.

"What is so funny? Did you not like what I bought or the top dollar I paid for it?"

"You looked lovely in all the outfits. I liked it when you came out and let me see you in them. And I wouldn't care if you'd paid double what you did for the clothing. I don't even care if you need it or just want it. It made you smile, so it was money well spent"

"Wow," I muttered.

"That was fun," he said.

"Fun? You had to sit there and watch me try on clothes for two hours, and you call it fun? I don't know another man in the world with that much patience."

"Didn't take patience. You want to shop some more?"

"No, I'm finished," I said. "How about you? You want to visit another lumberyard or hardware joint?"

"Only thing we need is lots of paint remover and sandpaper. We can get that in Tishomingo and not haul it all over the country. Hungry? We can grab a burger or have lunch anywhere you want"

"How about just a plain old McDonald's burger and then on to our B and B? Do we have reservations?"

"We sure do," he said.

Except for boasting more two-story homes that were in beautiful condition, the little town of Jefferson, Texas, didn't look all that different from Tishomingo. All the same, I felt like a sugared-up six-year-old on Christmas. Freedom surged through my veins as I tried to see everything at once.

Then Billy Lee parked the van in front of an antebellum home, and I saw that there was definitely something in Jefferson that Tishomingo didn't have. Looking at that gorgeous place practically made me hyperventilate. I know it raised my blood pressure twenty points. The sign out front said it was Scarlett O'Hardy's Bed-and-Breakfast, but it looked like Scarlett O'Hara's Tara. I'd read Gone With the Wind when I was fifteen and once a year since. It's my favorite book, and sitting there in front of a replica of Tara was like a dream come true.

"It's gorgeous. Can we tour it?" I whispered.

Billy Lee got out of the van and opened the door for me. "I made reservations for you to have Miss Scarlett's room. I'll be staying in the general's room."

"We're staying here?" I asked breathlessly.

"I thought you might like it, but there are other options."

"Oh, no! I want to stay here. Really, I do." I hopped out of the van and walked beside him up to the porch. The reverence in my heart was akin to what I felt walking into church on Sunday morning. This was Tara rebuilt. Scarlett's spirit probably lived on in the walls, along with Rhett Butler's.

I didn't drool all over the front of my shirt when we walked up onto the porch, but that was an absolute miracle. If I'd had to speak or stand in front of a firing squad, I would have put the blindfold on and said my last prayer. We were met at the door by a man dressed like an antebellum butler who took our luggage straight up the stairs. As we followed him, I noticed green velvet drapes like Miss Ellen's po'teers at Tara in a sitting room.

The butler swung open the doors to Miss Scarlett's room and stepped aside. Billy Lee leaned on the doorjamb and watched me make a complete fool of myself. I squealed like a little girl and didn't care if Mamie rose from the grave and scolded me for acting like a heathen. I was right in the middle of a copy of Scarlett's bedroom.

"Cammie King slept here many years ago. She played Bonnie Blue in the movie," the man said.

"Like it?" Billy Lee asked.

"Oh, Billy Lee, I love it. It's absolutely wonderful. I feel like a southern belle."

"I'll show you to your room now," the man said to Billy Lee.

Before I could say another word, Billy Lee and the man were gone, and the door was shut. I shut my eyes and turned around slowly. I opened them to see a room filled with antique furnishings, including a plush bed with an elegant headboard, a fainting couch in the bay window, antique light fixtures, and an oak mantel. Wallpaper with Scarlett-red background covered the walls, and the bathroom had a grand tub plenty big enough for two people.