He finished the banana and pushed the chair back. “That is the last step, right? You’re not going to make me eat a toad when I get out of the shower, are you?”

“Never thought of that. It might put more drunks on the wagon than my remedy,” she said. “But to answer your question, yes, that’s the last thing on the list. You can have coffee when you get out. Our ladies will be here with our Sunday dinner in an hour, and believe me, you’ll be hungry by then.”

“We’ll see.” He headed toward the bathroom.

He turned on the water in the shower and laid his clothing on the edge of the sink as he removed each item. By the time he was ready to pull back the curtain and get into the cramped space, the water was hot. He adjusted it, wondering the whole time just how warm he should leave it. So far that crazy remedy of hers was working pretty good. His headache was gone, and he didn’t have a bit of nausea.

Once he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped up to the mirror that covered a medicine cabinet above the sink. After he’d shaved, he poured a little Stetson aftershave in his hand and slapped it on his face. Then he combed his dark hair back.

“Time to get it cut or else start wearing a ponytail,” he said. “I’ll be damned! That crazy routine works. I feel good.”

He peeked out the door and made a quick little jog to his bedroom, where he threw off the towel. He put on a pair of jeans that could’ve used a good pressing and found a clean shirt in his duffel bag.

“You think it’s time to bring all my stuff from the trailer, Sassy?” he asked the cat, who’d come back to the extra pillow on his bed.

She opened one eye and then closed it slowly.

“Not even a little meow? I got a partner who can cook and who knows how to cure a hangover. That’s pretty damn good.” Tucker vaguely remembered telling Sassy about his feelings the night before. No wonder she was pissed. She’d been Melanie’s pet, and she sure wouldn’t want to hear about another woman in his life—even if Jolene did let her lie on the kitchen table.

He left his boots behind and carried a basket of dirty clothing through the foyer and the dining room and was headed across the living room floor when he noticed tears running down Jolene’s face. The basket made a thud when he dropped it.

“Is it your aunt Sugar?”

She shook her head and turned her back as she wiped at the tears. “No, just a song on the radio that . . .” Her voice cracked.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. “What song? What memory?”

She pulled her phone from the hip pocket of her jeans and hit a few buttons. “It reminds me of my mama. She was in a hotel room when she overdosed, and this was playing on her phone when they found her—over and over again. I should’ve cut her some slack, but I was just a kid and I didn’t understand the darkness or the sadness.”

He drew her close and held her as they listened to Sarah McLachlan sing “Angel.” His sadness was very different from Jolene’s or the singer’s, but he could relate to the pain that it caused, because the end result was the same.

“Songs speak to me,” she whispered. “They always have. They get down into my heart and strike emotions so deep that I wonder where they come from.”

“Me, too.” He had to swallow several times for the lump in his throat to disappear.

She took a step back and his arms felt empty.

“What song reminds you of the Magnolia Inn?” he asked.

She drew the tail of her T-shirt up to wipe her eyes. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Hey, we listened to music all the time when I was on the police force. You’d be surprised what songs bring back memories to me.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he couldn’t even listen to Jamey Johnson sing “Lead Me Home,” because that’s what they had played at Melanie’s funeral.

“Aunt Sugar would dance around the dining room with Uncle Jasper to Mary Chapin Carpenter singing, ‘I Feel Lucky.’ When I hear that song, I think of how much they were in love and they didn’t have to go outside this inn to . . .” She paused for a breath. “And I’m not sure how to explain.”

“Maybe the inn really is magical.” Tucker reached for her phone and brought up “I Feel Lucky,” laid it on the counter, and held out a hand. “Can I have this dance, Miz Jolene?”

She put one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. She was a very good swing dancer. When he spun her out and brought her back to his chest, she didn’t miss a single beat. By the time the song ended, they were both breathless, and there wasn’t a tear in her eyes.

In that moment, he realized that Jolene was more than a partner. She was his friend, the first one he’d made since Melanie died. With sideways glances, he studied her. She was definitely what they talked about when they said dynamite came in small packages. She’d endured so much at such a young age, and yet she was kind, sweet, and the hardest-working woman he’d ever known. She and Melanie would have been good friends for sure.

“I bet Uncle Jasper and Aunt Sugar have been dancing like that all over. I haven’t done that in a long time. That was fun,” she said as she sat down at the table.

“Yes, it was,” he said. “We’ll have to do it more often.”