He’s leaving the library when Jazz sneaks up behind him, tugging on his shirttail. When he turns around, she leaps into his arms, and he twirls her around a few times before setting her back down. When she wobbles, he holds onto her until the dizziness passes. He will definitely miss Jazz. How can a kid with such a pure spirit come from a rotten soul like Naomi?
“Are you having a good time, kiddo?” he asks.
“Yes! Come see the magician!” Taking him by the hand, she tries to drag him down the hall.
“I’m working right now, Jazzy. You’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow.”
She sticks out her lower lip. “Okay.”
He offers a fist bump, and she reluctantly touches her tiny balled fist to his. Tossing a wave over her shoulder, she stalks off in the solarium's direction.
The kid needs a dad. It makes Everett sad to think she might never get one. Naomi’s already run off one husband. No matter how beautiful she is, no man in his right mind would marry her.
As he hustles from bar to bar, Everett rehearses his speech in his head. In a few short hours, he will tell Presley everything. The burden of his lies has weighed him down since he arrived in Hope Springs, but even more so in recent weeks as his feelings for Presley have deepened. He hopes she’ll be understanding. If not, while he may lose his chance at happiness with her, he’ll at least be able to live with himself again.
Everett is so engrossed in his own thoughts, he doesn’t believe his eyes when he sees Presley talking to Carla and Louie out by the bonfire. He blinks hard and rubs his eyes. What on earth are Carla and Louie doing here? Wait a minute. Is it possible? Memories flash back and he finally connects the dots. He met the fisherman from Atlanta, Turkey Neck, at Blue By You one night. Carla introduced them. “Meet my uncle, Mack Lambert.” Only he isn’t Carla’s uncle. He’s her neighbor, her father’s best friend.
Everett imagines the conversation between Mack and Carla at a neighborhood barbecue. “I ran into your buddy, Rhett. He’s working as a bartender up in the mountains of Virginia. He’s going by the name of Everett. Claims he’s from North Dakota. But I swear he’s the guy I met with you at Blue By You. What’s his deal? Why’s he in hiding? Is he wanted by the police or something?”
Presley’s conversation with Carla and Louie appears to be cordial. They haven’t stirred up any trouble yet. Maybe they don’t know about his relationship with Presley. His gaze shifts slightly to the right, to Naomi, who is staring straight at him with a grin so smug he wants to smack it right off her face.
She tried to warn him. I just got off the phone with your friend from Atlanta. He booked two rooms for this weekend. I convinced him to stay through Sunday to attend the party. Everett had assumed that by friend, she meant the fisherman from Atlanta.
Everett pushes his way through the dwindling crowd to Presley’s side. “What’re the two of you doing here?” he says to Carla and Louie.
Carla loops her arm through his, leaning possessively against him. “We came to see you, silly.”
“Correction! Carla came to see you. I came to give you this.” Drawing back his hand, Louie punches Everett in the eye. Everett stumbles backward, and Louie tackles him to the ground. “You stole my money, your rotten a-hole, and I want it back.”
Carla squeals, “Stop!” as she kicks at them with her pointy-toed boot.
They roll around on the ground until Everett wrestles his way on top and begins pummeling Louie with his fists. He manages several hard blows to Louie’s face before Martin, the head of security, jerks Everett to his feet and sets him down in front of Stella.
Stella’s face is beet red, and her nostrils are flaring. Her arm shoots out, finger pointed at her cottage. “Come with me! All of you! Now!”
Martin takes Louie and Everett by their collars and marches them down the narrow road to the caretaker’s cottage. Everett feels as though he’s on his way to the guillotine with Queen Stella leading the procession and her attendants—Naomi, Carla, and Presley—bringing up the rear.
Their party of seven packs into the tiny living room. Presley remains by the door, with one hand on the knob as though preparing to bolt. Carla uses her brother’s body as a shield, as though she needs protecting from the man who impregnated her. Everett’s eyes travel to her swollen belly. Damn, she’s still pregnant.
Louie, who is bleeding from his nose and a cut above his eye, catches Everett staring. He takes another swing at him, but Martin holds Louie off.
Stella stares Louie down. “If you go after him again, I’ll have you arrested.” She turns to Everett. “What is wrong with you? This is beyond embarrassing for me to have one of my employees cause such a scene at a party we’re hosting. Start talking, Everett. What’s this about?”
“Everett?” Louie snorts. “Where’d you come up with a fancy name like that?”
Stella’s jaw drops. “Your name isn’t Everett?”
Louie answers for Everett. “I’ve known him all my life. Ain’t never called him nothing but Rhett.”
Stella’s eyes still on Everett, she says, “So these people are friends of yours from North Dakota.”
Louie barks out a ha. “North Dakota? The three of us are from Georgia. Born and raised in Atlanta.” Louie takes Carla by the arm and jerks her forward. “This here’s my sister, Carla. Rhett knocked her up
