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The lights strung over the dance floor cast gentle golden light and dusty shadows over happy faces. It seemed that for the moment, those lines between us all had been washed away, even if just for tonight. All was as it used to be. My family, my old friends. My girl up there on the stage.
And then there was me.
We were all a little older, but these faces were a part of me, a part of my past that I did my best to ignore. It was easy to pretend my past hadn’t happened from the other side of the country, surrounded by the crowd I associated with. But being here changed everything, me most of all.
Or maybe I’d just found a piece of myself I’d lost after so long.
At least that’s how I thought I felt. Lately, I wasn’t so sure.
The song ended and the crowd clapped, the Blums stepping back as Mike Stoeffel made his way on stage, waving like the applause was for him.
“Evenin’ folks,” he said into the center microphone, scanning the crowd. “I’m sure y’all have heard by now the outcome of the pie-eating contest, thus ending our Fourth of July mayoral race. And it’s time we crowned today’s winner—Miss Poppy Blum!”
Flushed and smiling, she stood and waved.
Mike waved her over. “Come on up here, Miss Blum, and say a few words.”
Gathering herself, she set her drumsticks on her stool and walked to the mic to a round of applause. She was so pretty there under the lights, her hands around the microphone stand. Her face was alight with amusement and joy, with a side of sarcasm for good measure. Her dark hair was up in a high ponytail, highlighting the length of her neck and her nearly bare shoulders. The sight of her in the dress she’d put on in the truck sent a flash of heat to my cock, and I spent a moment working out the differential velocity of the missile that was likely going to blow up my life and the amount of time I had before impact.
My calculation was not encouraging.
“Thank you, Mike,” she started. “Can we give Mike a round of applause for all his hard work today?” When the brief clapping died down, she looked over us all, her eyes catching mine for a heartbeat. “Truth is, it probably would have been a draw if Duke and I hadn’t made fools of ourselves in the watermelon race.”
“Because eating a pie in a minute and a half is so dignified,” Jo said from behind her, laughing.
“I’ve finished one of Bettie’s pies in less than that,” Poppy said. “But in all seriousness, I appreciate all y’all’s support, no matter whose side you’re on. Just get out there and vote.”
“What if we can’t choose?” someone called from the throng.
“Good question. Duke—would you join me up here on stage?”
I contained my shock, offering Poppy a quizzical look, but I did as she’d bid, not stopping until I was standing next to her.
When the applause died down, she took to the mic again. “Now, I know it’s not an easy choice to make. But the truth is, I know y’all will make the best choice for the town. Each of us has unique qualities that would benefit Lindenbach. Like, have a look at Duke’s baby kisser. I’m almost positive said babies end up blessed by God himself.”
I leaned toward the mic. “Thanks, Invisalign.”
“Today’s events proved that this town isn’t as broken as we feared. If Duke and I can call a truce, there’s hope for all of us.”
“How do we know it’s not for show?” a voice called from the back.
“If you think either of us are good enough actors to fake it, you give us too much credit,” she said.
“How about we prove it?” I said close enough to the mic so everyone could hear.
Her brow quirked. “What do you suggest?”
“We could always sing.”
The crowd went bonkers, and she gave me a laughing look, shaking her head.
“All right,” she said into the microphone, but to me. “It’s your funeral.”
We stepped back from the microphones, and I picked up Jo’s guitar to test the strings with unpracticed fingers.
“You sure you know what to do with that?” she asked, picking up her own guitar.
“We’re about to find out.”
She laughed. “What are we singing?”
I twiddled the strings. “Porter and Dolly?”
“We know theirs the best. But ‘Always, Always’ would be a little weird. You know, since we broke up.”
“I remember. What about ‘Just Someone I Used to Know’?”
She stilled, her eyes on her fingers as she pretended to tune her guitar, considering the lyrics, which circled around Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton’s reminiscing over their lost love. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”
“I dunno. I think they’ll eat it up. Especially since it’s honest.”
On consideration, she smiled. “Well, come on then. For old time’s sake.”
