Turn My World Around

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

TUCKER TIMED HIS VISIT to Dinner Belles when he knew Corinne wouldn’t be on shift. He chose to believe the fact that he knew this was simply due to his superior powers of observation and frequent patronage of the diner, rather than a slight edge toward stalker behavior. The Saturday lunch crowd was thinning. He scanned the restaurant, nodding at a few clients and former classmates. None of his friends were here, and thank God for it. He didn’t want any opining from the peanut gallery regarding what he was about to do.

Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the counter.

“Tucker McGee!”

His feet did an automatic redirect at the hail before he’d registered who the speaker was.

Aw hell. The Casserole Patrol. The trio of elderly women, who provided home-cooked sustenance to everyone in town in the name of joy, illness, or sorrow, were clustered in a corner booth. Empty plates with crumbs of pie crust were shoved to the center of the table, testament to the sugar fueling their current knitting session. Skeins of yarn spilled over their laps, needles clack clacking away, except for Betty Monroe, who’d paused to crook her finger in his direction.

“Afternoon Miss Betty. Miss Delia. Miss Maudie Bell.” Tucker nodded to each of the women in turn.

“Hear you’re dancing in this newfangled fundraiser Norah’s cooked up,” Miss Betty said.

Word traveled fast. He suspected Norah had done everything she could to make it travel faster. For a transplant, she’d certainly learned how to make the most of the local grapevine.

“Yes ma’am. You heard right.”

“Who’s your partner?” Miss Delia wanted to know. The Casserole Patrol’s favorite pastime was poking into everybody’s love life. He’d heard a rumor earlier this summer that they were trying to talk Norah’s old intern into teaching them how to blog so they could put in for a weekly column in the local paper. So far Myles was maintaining a firm “No” in his editorial capacity at The Observer, but Tucker only gave him another few months before they wore him down.

“Don’t know yet. I’m here to sweet talk Mama Pearl into joining the competition. Norah wants to showcase some of the major business owners in town.” The truth. It’s always safest to stick to the truth.

Miss Maudie Bell pouted. “When’s she gonna do a good bachelor auction? Got all these handsome, single men floating around town that need to find a good woman.”

“You just want to win the bid so you can have one of them work shirtless in your yard for your ogling pleasure,” Delia cackled.

“Well, why not get some fun out of things until they manage to find that good woman?” Miss Maudie Bell sniffed.

Tucker wasn’t sure whether to laugh or run. Schooling his face in neutral lines, he said, “That sounds like an interesting idea. Maybe you should take that to Norah directly.” And by the time they convinced her, maybe he’d be off the market.

“I do believe I’ll do that,” Miss Maudie Bell said.

Spying his quarry behind the counter, Tucker grinned. “Ladies, y’all have a good afternoon. I need to go have a chat with Mama Pearl.”

When he escaped the encounter without having his ass pinched, he decided he’d received his quota of miracles for the day.

Mama Pearl turned from where she’d slid a fresh pie into the rack. “What can I get for you, Tucker?”

He eyed the rack. “Is that coconut cream?”

“It is.”

His afternoon was free. He could squeeze in an extra workout. “A few minutes of your time. In private. Then a slice of that and a cup of coffee.”

If she thought the request odd, she didn’t show it. “All right then. Come on back to the office.”

Tucker skirted the counter and followed her through the swinging door into the kitchen. The scents of grease and sugar hit him like a fist, making his mouth water. Oh yeah, the workout would be worth it. At the grill, Mama Pearl’s youngest son flipped burgers with precision.

“Hey Omar.”

“Tuck. Usual?” he asked.

“Just your mama’s pie today. How’s it going with the lovely Simone?”

Ahead of him, Mama Pearl made a grunting noise. She clearly hadn’t made up her mind about Omar’s girlfriend, the new reporter for The Observer.

“Lay off, Mama,” Omar warned.

“What’s the matter, Mama Pearl? Marrying Vivian off this summer didn’t satisfy?” Tucker teased.

“Still got three more to go,” she said.

“Then focus your attention on Violet. She and Reuben are a lot closer to the altar than I am,” Omar suggested. “Simone and I are fine, just as we are.”

With a fulminating glance, Mama Pearl shuffled into the office. Tucker followed her inside and shut the door.

“I’m not going to insult you by asking if you’ve heard about Norah’s latest fundraising scheme,” he began. Mama Pearl was the undisputed queen of gossip in Wishful. If the Casserole Patrol knew, she definitely did.

“You wanna pull me in. How?”

He explained what Norah wanted to do.

“You want me to dance,” she repeated dubiously.

“People in Wishful would love to see that. Everybody loves you.”

“Doesn’t seem like the best exposure for my sponsorship. You may be good, but you can’t make these old bones move like young ones again. Don’t expect we’d last past the first week.”

“You would get more long-term exposure from a longer run in the competition. There’s no rule saying it has to be you. The diner is free to sponsor anyone it likes if you have someone else in mind.” Look at him being all blasé about this.

“Mmmhmm.” Those two syllables belied her bland expression. Mama Pearl was not a stupid woman. No judge Tucker had ever faced made him sweat like that single, raised eyebrow.

Before he could say anything to further his cause, the office door burst open. And there she was. Corinne Dawson, former Homecoming Queen, student body president, and head cheerleader. The girl who was wrong for him on every possible level. One fist shot into the air in a posture he’d seen a thousand times at pep rallies and football games when they’d been teenagers.

“I did it!” Her blue eyes sparkled until she realized Mama Pearl wasn’t alone. She dropped her arm and pulled back a bit.

He was sorry to see any of her happiness dimmed. Happy had never been Corinne’s default state and he wished boatloads of it for her.

“Did what?” Mama Pearl prompted.

“Oh, hey Tucker. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not interrupting at all. Good news should always be shared. What’s up?” He thanked God for all his hours in a courtroom and on the stage. It kept his voice from reverting to the awkward tremble he hadn’t been able to shake around her back in high school.

“I’m done. I officially passed all my nursing classes and finished my clinical hours. I am graduated!” Tucker hadn’t seen her smile like that since he handed over her bouquet of roses for the homecoming parade. The sight of it sucker punched him right in the gut.

“That’s awesome,” he said, and meant it.

He’d watched her clawing her way back to something since she’d come back to Wishful. She’d fought tooth and nail against less than friendly odds. It was good to see her finding some success.

Mama Pearl rose to hug her. “That’s wonderful, child. And there’s pie to celebrate.”

There was no such thing as a celebration in Wishful that didn’t include Mama Pearl’s pie.

Corinne squeezed her back, gratitude written clear on her face. “Thank you. But pie can wait. I’ve got tables.”

With a quick wave at Tucker, she was gone again.

He stared at the empty doorway as the last flash of her long, dark hair disappeared.

“Mmmhmm,” Mama Pearl said again.

Tucker pokered up, but not before she shot him a Look that made it clear she’d noticed him noticing Corinne. “So how about it? Will the diner be a part of the competition?”

After a long, assessing study that had him wanting to squirm in his chair, at last Mama Pearl nodded. “I’ll do it.”