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“When do you see Judge Griffin?” Adelia asked when the tale was finished.
“Monday morning. I’ll have to close the shop for a few hours.”
Adelia nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything. That made Maddie anxious. She knew full well that her grandmother and Judge Griffin were friends. Before her grandpa died, they’d all played golf and vacationed on the Gulf together. She shouldn’t have to piece all this together for her grandmother.
Cookie, the woman who ran the kitchen at the Chamberlain mansion, arrived just then with a platter. She sat it on the edge of the desk. “Evening, Miss Madelyn. It’s good to see you.”
“How are you, Cookie?”
The plump older woman grinned at her. She was eternally pleasant, which Maddie could never understand. As a child, Cookie had been Maddie’s favorite person in the world. She’d let the oldest Chamberlain daughter into her sacred kitchen and taught her to bake. It’d changed Maddie’s life and for that, she would always be grateful.
“I’m doing well,” Cookie said as she poured two cups of tea. “I’ve got a lovely roast in the oven if you’re staying for dinner. Just be sure not to eat too many of these shortbread cookies or you’ll ruin your appetite.”
Maddie’s eyes widened as she noticed the delicate china plate filled with her favorite cookies in the whole world. She would never admit it to another living soul, but Cookie’s shortbread was her Waterloo. No matter how many times she attempted to make them or how many times Cookie went over the recipe with her, she could never get them to turn out just right.
“Oh, Cookie, you know how much I love these. It’ll be hard to stop eating them.” Especially when she was desperate for caffeine and sugar.
Cookie grinned. “Let me know if you need anything else, Miss Adelia.” Without another word, she slipped from the room and disappeared into her tiled domain.
They both took a moment to doctor their tea with various sweeteners and cream. Maddie had eaten three shortbread cookies and nearly emptied her teacup before she worked up the nerve to press her grandmother about her predicament.
“So, do you think you can talk to him for me?” Maddie finally pressed.
Her grandmother’s white brows went up curiously. “Talk to whom, dear? Emmett?”
“No,” Maddie frowned into her teacup. She could hardly imagine her grandmother giving Emmett a second glance, much less hold down a long discussion with him. “To Judge Griffin. Before my court appearance.”
“Oh, yes. Of course I will,” Adelia said with a comforting smile and a soft pat on Maddie’s hand. “I’ll speak to him tomorrow after church.”
Maddie felt a rush of relief wash over her. With that tension easing from her body, she felt the last of her strength leaving with it. She’d operated today on pure adrenaline and now the magic had worn off. There was no amount of tea that could perk her back up. She was exhausted.
“You know,” her grandmother said, “it’s Saturday evening. The bar is going to be loud again tonight and you’re not going to get the rest you need.”
Maddie closed her eyes and inwardly groaned. “I know. I need to get that whole house soundproofed.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen in the next hour, so why don’t you sleep here tonight? The way you look right now, I’m worried you’ll end up in a ditch somewhere on your way home. Stay for dinner, get a good night’s sleep, and spend tomorrow with the family, since the bakery is closed. Then, you’ll be well rested for your hearing with Judge Griffin on Monday morning. I’ll have Winston put fresh linens on your old bed.”
It sounded wonderful, and Maddie was too tired to argue. She felt like she could sleep from now until church the next morning. Even as she set down her teacup, she could feel her body start to sway in her seat.
“You poor thing, you’re not even going to make it to dinner. Go upstairs right now and I’ll have Cookie bring you a sandwich to nibble on in bed.”
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Maddie nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
Standing, she made her way out of the library and up the stairs. She didn’t even wait for Winston to make up the bed for her. Kicking off her shoes, she collapsed facedown on top of the comforter and passed out.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Not the bar—Woody’s was rarely quiet and tonight was no exception. This evening it was filled with the typical sounds of a Sunday afternoon—professional football and the occasional group cheer or groan depending on how the game was going.
Things were going fine, and yet, Emmett kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. When the cops didn’t come Saturday night, he’d almost called the station to make sure the officer they sent over hadn’t gotten in a wreck on the way.
Perhaps the brush with the law had cooled Maddie’s guns. It certainly hadn’t thrilled Emmett, but the less it seemed to bother him, the more it irritated her, so he played it off like it wasn’t a big deal.
It actually bothered him that she seemed to think being arrested was commonplace for him. Apparently, in Maddie’s universe, poor people were the same as criminals. And of course she presumed he was poor—why else would anyone toil in a run-down old bar if they had another option? Surely he must’ve spent more than one night on the wrong side of iron bars.
The door opened and Maddie’s brothers Grant and Blake slipped inside. Emmett waved, expecting the brothers to find a table in front of the television, but they came to sit at the bar instead.
