Friend number one clucked her tongue. "Sure did. I heard it from Belle Cooper, you know she's Tucker's great aunt. She heard the whole story from Gloria."
"That poor girl. She was head over heels for him."
My face dropped as I set the tomato down. I thought of the pink ribbon in Magnolia's hair, the pink fingernails resting comfortably on Tucker's arm while I tried not to puke at the sight of her. Stupid, stupid family curse.
"Oh, I don't know about that. I think she's got just enough of her daddy in her, that she just doesn't like losing anything she didn't choose to lose for herself." The woman came right up next to me and gave me a polite smile. "'Scuse me, honey, can I reach for some of those tomatoes?"
"Sorry," I mumbled and pushed my cart out of the way.
They both eyed me curiously, without a single attempt to try and hide their conversation even though I was standing next to them.
"Well, you're probably right about that. Besides, there's probably a line of boys from here to Maryville who're half in love with Magnolia MacIntyre. She's probably conducting interviews for replacements already."
Her friend laughed. "Thank the good Lord above she got her momma's looks."
They tittered about that while I picked up a few Pink Lady apples and put them in a bag. I felt the weight of someone's stare on me as I did, and I looked over my shoulder, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Oh heavens, she's right there," one hissed in a low whisper. "Do you think she heard us?"
"Look at her, Lord have mercy, she's wearing leggings." Friend number two made a sad clucking sound. What was it with southern women and the tongue cluck? "That poor thing. She looks terrible."
My head whipped around, because she said the word leggings like it was a four-letter word you'd never say in front of your grandmother. That's when I saw her. Standing in front of the cheese section, hair wild and curly around her head, not a stitch of makeup on her beautiful face, a simple white shirt covering her torso, and her legs were, indeed, covered in black leggings.
But Magnolia wasn't looking at cheese. She was looking at me.
Then she started walking in my direction. No, not walking, marching.
"Ohhhhhhh boy," I whispered.
The two women looked between the two of us, back and forth, like we were swatting a tennis ball.
"I know you," she said.
I swallowed roughly. Maybe the ground would swallow me up. Somehow, I managed a nod. "We met the other night, I was getting ice cream."
There were dark circles under those mesmerizing eyes, and even with the smooth, golden color of her skin, she looked pale and exhausted. She sniffed and swept her gaze from the top of my head to the toes on my boots. "Grace, right?"
"Right. It's, uh, it's nice to see you again."
"Have you seen him?" she asked, voice catching on the last word.
Oh, a sinkhole would be so convenient. A really, really big sinkhole that went straight to fricken China.
"H-have I seen who?" I asked. I knew though, and I sent up a little prayer for the blatant lies I was about to tell if she asked me anything about her brand-new ex-boyfriend. The two women huddled by their carts, watching us with unconcealed interest. I glared at them over my shoulder, but it didn't register in the slightest.
When I turned my attention back to the hot mess in front of me, Magnolia blinked slowly, and I had the strangest urge to wrap my arms around her and take her somewhere around the corner where the town gossips couldn't see her.
"Tucker," she said. "Have you seen Tucker since yesterday morning? You seem to … you seem to be popping up everywhere lately."
But as I watched her, saw the way she wrapped an arm around her waist, like she was holding all her emotions inside with that one arm, I found that I couldn't lie.
I nodded slowly. "My brother and I saw him at Donner Bakery around lunch-time." I licked my lips and let out a slow breath. "But I didn't talk to him long. I went home."
Magnolia held my gaze steadily as I spoke, a human lie detector if I'd ever seen one. She must have seen the truth in my face, because she exhaled shakily, her eyes turning glassy as she blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I can't pull myself together."
The women parked by the tomatoes whispered, and I popped a hand on my hip and turned my head in their direction. "Don't you two have something better to do?"
Friend number two huffed, friend number one blushed, and if I'd ever seen someone push a cart haughtily, it was those two.
"Well, I never," number one whispered to her friend.
"There's a first time for everything, ladies," I called to their backs.
When they were out of earshot, I turned back to Magnolia, who was swiping at her cheeks.
"Thank you," she whispered, giving me a grateful smile.
I shrugged, a sharp, distinct feeling of discomfort unrolling through my body at her gratitude. This woman had no reason to feel any sort of thanks toward me. It was vain for me to assume that her current relationship status had something to do with me, even if she didn't realize it.
On the end cap by the tomatoes was a display of wine, and I leaned forward to grab a decent pinot noir. I looked at the label before handing it to her.
"Try this one. I think that the alcohol percentage is just about right for a breakup."
Magnolia exhaled a watery laugh. "It might be. I should probably grab two."
I handed her another one, and she set it straight into her cart.
"I'm sorry," I told her. There was no way she could've guessed why I was saying it, or the true reason. She might never. But it felt like it needed to be said, nonetheless.
She let go of her midriff. "You
