I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. What was the appropriate way to greet the day that had the potential to change my life for better or worse? Before I could consider the answer, my phone rang. My heart leapt into my throat, and I said a silent prayer that it was McKenzie. But my hopes were squashed when I saw my realtor’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hey, Darcey,” I answered.
“Luca,” she drawled. “Sorry to bug ya this mornin’. But I heard back from the homeowners, so I wanted to call you right away.”
“You did?” I asked, holding my breath.
“I’ve got good news, hon. They want to take your offer.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” she replied. “And since you’re paying cash, we can get this show on the road pretty much whenever you’re ready.”
“Right. Yes. Okay. So, how does this work since I’m staying here and their stuff is still in the house? Do I have to leave until we close on it?”
“Actually, no. The owner said they weren’t attached to anything in the house. It was mostly stuff they bought used to furnish it as a rental property. They said you could keep everything, or they’d have it hauled off to Goodwill.”
“No,” I answered. “I’ll keep it.” The quirky treasures hidden within the walls of the hobbit house were part of its charm. It made me think of McKenzie and her penchant for loving thrifted items because of the stories they held.
“Well, they’ll be pleased as punch to hear it, I’m sure,” she said in her syrupy southern accent. “Listen, I know you’ve got a big day ahead of you. Everybody’s talking about the interview.”
My stomach lurched. Knowing it was news was one thing, but hearing it put so plainly was sobering.
“How about you touch base with me Monday and we’ll set a date?” she suggested.
“Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea,” I said. “Thanks, Darcey. I appreciate it.”
“And sugar, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe you’ve been given a fair shake. Not that what I think amounts to a hill of beans, but everybody has a past. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” She snickered, then dropped her voice low. “Heavens to Betsy, don’t you dare ask me about the Miss Tennessee Iris pageant of ’91. I definitely said some things about Miss Hickman County that I regret. Oh, and let’s not forget the Ex-Lax Iaccidentallylet slip into Putnam County’s Diet Coke.”
I stifled a laugh as she continued.
“Now, let me tell you, the good Lord humbled me real quick. I didn’t even place in the top three,” she said. “What I did ate me up inside for months, but my mama, God rest her soul, she told me something that stuck with me. First, she told me to quit my cryin’ because I was gonna give myself premature wrinkles. But then she told me this gem. She said, ‘Darcey, every day you wake up is the chance to be someone else. Someone yester-you would be proud of.So you can sit here bellyaching about what you wish you could change, or you can go out there and change it.’”
The corners of my mouth tugged into a smile. “I like that.”
“I don’t know how much of this nonsense is real, and if you ask me, that Tate McCreedy fellow looks like a clout chaser if I ever saw one,” she said. “But even if every bit of it is true, honey, you can start over. You ain’t gotta be who you were yesterday.”
My throat tightened. “Thank you, Darcey.”
“You’re welcome, hon. I’m gonna go on, but I’ll get with you Monday so we can buy you this house.”
“Thanks again,” I said, ending the call. My throat tightened, a surprising wave of emotion crashing over me. I was in the bedroom of my new home. The hobbit house was going to officially be mine.
Darcey’s call and her words of wisdom, though unexpected and a little strange, felt like a sign that no matter how the day ended, I’d been given a chance at a new beginning. And I was going to take it.
“How are you holding up?”Grace asked as a woman with a nose ring fluttered around where I sat on the couch, using some sort of device to check the lighting in my living room. The camera crew had rearranged the furniture so it faced away from the fireplace, turning the space into something reminiscent of a late-night talk show set. There were giant lights set up everywhere and a dozen people I didn’t know buzzing around the place. It was completely unnerving.
“Um, honestly?” I answered. “I’m kinda freaking out.”
“You’re gonna be great,” she assured me as the tech pretended she wasn’t listening to every word of our conversation.
Grace grabbed my tattooed wrist and turned it so the ink faced me. She’d noticed it earlier in the day and asked me about it.
“Remember, your story deserves to be told,” she said.
I nodded and swallowed hard as I looked up to see all of my friends enter the room. Antoni had come bearing a couple of shopping bags, having taken it upon himself to find me something suitable to wear for the interview.
Cash stood at my side and squeezed my shoulder. “You ready for this?”
