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Chapter One
Bobbi Jo Gallagher arrived in Belle Adair, Louisiana, at three in the afternoon on a hot, lazy Monday in mid-July. It was the kind of hot that baked the asphalt on the road until bubbles of tar appeared. The kind that made the air shimmer across the horizon and clothes stick to skin like paper on glue. It was, in fact, a kind of heat she’d never experienced before.
She pushed her way inside the B and B and glanced up at the clock over the fireplace to her right, which was how she knew the exact time of her arrival. She wasn’t feeling great on account of all that heat and was more than a little disappointed that the B and B wasn’t much cooler than the humidity she’d just escaped. She made her way to the reception desk on her left and waited while a woman, Mrs. Adelaide, conversed with another woman behind the desk. The receptionist looked like she’d rather be anywhere but standing where she was, nodding politely at the aforementioned Mrs. Coral Adelaide.
In the short space of time Bobbi stood there, the woman had mentioned her name at least twice (which was how Bobbi knew who she was) along with the fact that her people were the Adelaides from Charleston. It sounded impressive to be sure, but Bobbi had no idea who they were and hid a smile at the slight eye roll from the receptionist—Marybeth, according to her name tag. She had a dark brown bob shot through with silver, kind brown eyes, and was small in stature.
“I understand,” Marybeth murmured, nodding at Mrs. Adelaide. “And I’m quite confident you’ll enjoy the room we’ve given you.”
Mrs. Adelaide was dressed in a light cotton shirt of pale pink and cream-colored Bermuda shorts cut exactly two inches above her knees. Her silver hair was set in large waves that didn’t move at all as she spoke animatedly about the size of her room, and Bobbi sighed inwardly. All she wanted was to check in and have a nap. She’d been traveling for hours and was just about done with the heat and the waiting.
Restless, she took a step closer and exhaled just as her stomach rolled over. Her mouth watered. Sweat popped out on her brow. And at exactly two minutes after three, she threw up all over Mrs. Adelaide’s pink-and-white canvas shoes.
Now, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Mrs. Adelaide, of the Charleston Adelaides, was the kind of woman who enjoyed a scene as much as she enjoyed her impressive pedigree.
Mrs. Adelaide glanced down in horror, then narrowed her cornflower-blue eyes onto Bobbi like laser beams about to explode, as her bejeweled hands flew in the air with the kind of dramatic flair that, under any other circumstance, Bobbi would have found enviable.
“Oh my God,” Bobbi whispered, a hand over her mouth as she took a step back. “I’m so sorry. It’s the heat. I don’t know…” Mortified, she clamped her mouth shut, afraid she might add to the mess on the woman’s shoes, and took another step back just in case. She stared down at the ruined shoes, unable to move or utter another word, and began to shake.
What the hell was wrong with her?
“Oh my gosh, you look terrible. So pale.” Marybeth jumped from behind the counter and rushed forward with a glass of water. Her touch was gentle as she led Bobbi over to a chair in the corner. “Now you sit here and sip this water, and don’t you worry yourself one bit.” Those kind eyes were so soft, and Bobbi felt stupid because she wanted to cry, which was silly. But then, throwing up all over some stranger’s shoes was the kind of thing that most days would make someone like Bobbi Jo lose her mind.
It sure as heck wasn’t most days anymore. In fact, this life she led, this new landscape she traversed, was so foreign that the thought of it made her stomach roil again. Bobbi nodded in silence and grabbed the cold glass, dutifully sipping the water while she watched Marybeth deal with the woman, her shoes, and the mess on the floor.
By the time it was all sorted and Mrs. Adelaide had been escorted up to her room—not before sending an impressive amount of stink-eye Bobbi’s way—Bobbi felt better and got to her feet.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as Marybeth appeared once more. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Sweetie, don’t worry about it. You’re from the north, and this kind of heat isn’t for everyone. It’ll take some getting used to, but don’t worry yourself none. I’m sure you’ll be acclimated in a few days. And I do apologize on account that the AC is being a little difficult, but Marshall says he’ll have it up to snuff in no time.”
Bobbi attempted to smile, encouraged by Marybeth’s tone and the way her words rolled so softly underneath her Southern charm.
“Now,” Marybeth said, turning to the computer at the desk. “You must be Bobbi Jo Barker.”
For a second, Bobbi was silent. She’d forgotten that she’d made the reservation using her maiden name. “I am.”
“Is this your first time in Belle Adair?”
“It is.”
Marybeth smiled as she clicked her way across the keyboard. “I’m always curious to know how folks end up here.” She glanced up. “Has someone you know stayed before?”
