Georgie let out a sharp yelp and jumped to her feet. “I can’t believe I’ve sat here and told you my whole, unsolicited life story but haven’t offered you any food. I’m so sorry!”
“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll probably just freshen up upstairs and find somewhere in town to eat. I saw a fast food place on the road coming in. Maybe I’ll just go there since it’s getting so late.”
The screen door opened and Drew stepped out with a curly, dark-haired woman just behind him. She had the same caramel eyes as Georgia, though her features were longer and sharper.
“Tasha and I got your room all ready for you, but Ms. Pierce, may I be bold?” Drew asked.
“Call me Stella, but yes.”
Drew stepped forward and lowered his eyes to hers, his dark brows furrowing in concern. “Stella, you cannot come into our town and stay in our home and eat a fast food hamburger. Especially after such a long day.” Drew shook his head, dismissing the idea entirely. “It’s unacceptable, and I won’t stand for it. What kind of vacation is that?”
“I don’t mind, really. No one needs to go to any trouble for me. This isn’t really a vacation, anyway.”
The woman, Tasha, frowned. “Why are you here, then?”
“She’s just passing through,” Drew said. “Willow Beach was a forced detour on her way to Boston.”
Stella nodded in agreement. “Sam says my car will be ready tomorrow. I’ll be out of here and back on track as soon as I can, so I don’t want any of you to go out of your way for me.”
Suddenly, Georgia sidled up to her and looped an arm around Stella’s shoulders, drawing her close. “Lucky for you, showing off our little corner of paradise and being hospitable to our guests is customary and not out of our way at all.”
“It’s true,” Tasha said. “This is kind of what Mom lives for.”
“Plus, you aren’t off track, dear. The road may have taken an unexpected left turn, but your wheels are still firmly on the road, and I think you’re going to like what we have to offer.”
It was a nice thought, even if Stella couldn’t entirely agree. Paying thousands of dollars and subsisting on half of a granola bar since lunch certainly felt off track, but she was too hungry and tired to argue with the Baldwin family’s excitement.
“Okay. Then what do you all have to offer?”
“You go freshen up however you wish and meet us back here in fifteen minutes.”
Stella nodded, and Georgia began pushing her gently into the house. “We are going to make your time in Willow Beach equal to or better than anything Boston can offer, I promise you that.” She told Stella to head upstairs and into the first room on the left, but as she was going, Stella heard Georgia’s kids talking behind her.
“Detour, shmetour,” Tasha whispered softly.
And in a softer voice yet, Drew made a bet. “Twenty dollars says she never makes it to Boston.”
A couple of hours ago, those same words from Drew would have sent ice down her spine. Now, knowing him and the family a bit better, Stella suspected she might be in for something she hadn’t had in far too long: fun.
5
Fried chicken with gravy, flaky buttermilk biscuits, and creamed corn were piled on the plate in front of Stella. She suddenly wasn’t sure whether she had broken down in Maine or somehow made it to the Deep South. She hadn’t tasted cooking like this since she and Jace visited her great aunt Pat down in Georgia ten years earlier. Aunt Pat had died a year after their visit, but Stella could be convinced she was still kicking and working in the kitchen of the Duke Saloon because this was authentic Southern cooking if she’d ever tasted it.
“Y’all better be saving room for dessert.” A tall woman came out of the kitchen, an apron wrapped around her waist and a pie plate held aloft in her hands. “Pecan pie from Good Stuff Cupcakes. Katie makes a mean pie, and I wouldn’t dare try to upstage her.”
Georgia stood up and leaned across the bar to wrap the woman in a one-armed hug. “There she is! Stella, this is Alma. The owner of the saloon. Alma, this is our new friend Stella.”
Stella had no trouble believing this woman owned a saloon. Alma was tall and loud with a Texas drawl straight out of a John Wayne movie, and when she walked around the side of the bar, she revealed that she had a white flower tucked behind her ear to match her red and white cowboy boots.
Alma smiled warmly and slid the pie onto the bar between Georgia and Drew. Immediately, Drew reached his fork out for a bite, but Georgia swiped the fork out of his hand and shook her head, a look of shocked amusement on her face.
“Are you the same Stella who broke down on the highway?” Alma asked.
Stella had always heard news traveled fast in a small town, but she didn’t expect it to travel quite this fast. Especially since, according to Sam, he dealt with tourists’ cars regularly. Surely Stella’s story wasn’t special enough to be hot gossip. “Wow. News travels fast around here, I guess.”
Alma laughed and tipped her head to the far corner of the saloon. “Actually, a little birdie told me.”
Tucked away in a shadowy booth was Sam. He was spread out in his seat, one leg sticking out the side of the table, his arm draped across the back of the vinyl-covered cushion. He lifted a hand in a small wave when he realized everyone was looking at him.
“Sam is in here every Friday night for my fried chicken. Aren’t you, Sam?” Alma yelled across the room, though her normal speaking voice was already loud enough to be heard by everyone within county limits.
Sam tipped an imaginary hat. “The best grub in town. Heaven-sent, truly.”
Alma rolled her eyes, but it was obvious the compliment
