Page 17 of Blue Jean Summer

“What’s for dessert?” I pressed.

His jaw worked from side to side. “What will make this seem the least like I’m trying to get on your good side?”

I smiled as I slid my knife through the chicken. “Answer the question, Hayes.”

He slowly chewed his first bite, dabbed his mouth with the linen napkin, then leaned back in his seat. “Peach cobbler.”

“Fine. It’s not a coincidence. It’s a conspiracy,” I said. “Did she make cinnamon ice cream with it too?”

Hayes winced. “I’m coming on a little strong, aren’t I?”

I picked up my wine and tipped it toward him. “Lucky for you, I’m easily motivated by food. And unlike Hallie, I can be bribed.” I took a sip. “What’s going on? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love being wined and dined. Especially when Hallie is cooking. But you could have just called.”

Chapter 6

Catherine

Hayes took a thoughtful bite, giving us both time to reassess our positions in this battle of wits. “Hallie told me your mom passed not too long ago. I’m sorry to hear that.”

The change in conversation made the lovely flavor in my mouth turn sour. I reached for my wine to wash it down, but it tasted bitter. “It was unexpected, but I was able to be with her for a few weeks before she died.”

“How are you doing now?” Hayes’s eyes drifted to the freshly covered burial plot. “It’s a lot to handle.”

I knew he understood exactly what it felt like, but that didn’t make rehashing it any easier. “I’ve gotten through the worst of it, I think. Working through the mess of canceling phone plans, ending subscriptions, and closing out bank accounts is a nightmare.”

“Are you selling her house?” he asked.

“She rented. I have until the end of the month to finish moving out.”

“How’s that going?”

I twirled my fork, making a little nest of pasta. “Almost over, thankfully. I put the sentimental things into storage and sold or donated the rest.”

“What’s next for you?”

I paused, staring into my wine. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Hayes’s sharp eyes turned tender. “Life goes on whether we want it to or not.”

“It does,” I agreed. “I haven’t quite figured out what’s next yet. I was working for a nonprofit, but it went under around the time my mom got sick. I took it as a sign that I was supposed to be with her. Sometimes blessings come in disguise. It sucked in every possible way, but time off is hard to come by. I’m grateful I was able to spend every second I had with her.”

“How does being Miss Virginia factor into everything?”

“I’m only Miss Virginia for six more weeks. I’ve finished most of my appearances and commitments. I hope to make more headway with my social initiative, but after that…”

After that, I had no idea what I was doing with my life.

Hayes cocked his head, patiently waiting me out.

“After that, I’ll pass on the crown to the next Miss Virginia and hopefully have a new job.”

But hope didn’t cut it. I needed a new job yesterday. Death was not cheap. My mom had a little in her savings for a rainy day, but her medical bills had been obscene, so it vanished in a flash. Along with my savings. I took out personal loans to keep things going, but the payment demands came faster than a new job.

Selling my mom’s car, the appliances, and some of the big pieces of furniture had kept me afloat temporarily. But my life raft was quickly losing air and I was about to go under again.

“Tell me about your social initiative,” he said, immediately pivoting. “What is it?”

“This feels a lot like an interview, Mr. Wilder,” I said, teasing him the way Hallie had. “If there are open positions at the Wilder Foundation, I’d love to throw my hat into the ring.”