where that counter was after only owning the place and working here each and every day for the last ten years. “ You can just call me when it ’ s ready. ”
More whacking and rattling sounds answered her.
“ Okay, then. ” Dixie smiled, gave a wave, took a step backward.
Whap, whap, whap, whap.
She made a beeline for the counter, then plopped herself right down on one of the stools. Rushed, worried, and now falling further behind in her schedule.
For one fleeting instant she thought she ’ d bust out crying all over the “ Sights to See in Mississippi ” paper placemat in front of her. That darned combination of exhaustion and self- pity had crept up on her again.
Everything had changed so fast. A few weeks ago her life consisted of the best hotels in the South, a lavish expense account, closing big deals for the company, and only coming back to Fulton ’ s Dominion for holidays and a few weekends scattered through any given month.
At least she could take comfort that all that nonsense was behind her. She ’ d finally have a chance to settle down, to make a home for herself, maybe even find someone to love and have a family with. Daddy ’ s passing had brought her need for those things keenly into focus and deepened the ache inside her for all she had lost, all she ’ d never had.
“ Be back to get your order in a minute, hon. ” The waitress clunked down a glass of ice water with a paper-covered straw.
Dixie blinked, taking a moment to realize where she was and how she had come to be there. She slid a plastic-coated menu from behind one gleaming, silver napkin holder and flicked it open. “ Well, since it looks like I ’ m going to be here awhile, I guess no one could fault me for grabbing a little something to eat. ”
“ I ’ m not supposed to talk to strangers, ma ’ am. ”
“ Actually, I wasn ’ t... ” She spun ‘ round on the stool, stopping short when she caught a glimpse of who had spoken to her. “ Well, hello there. ”
The sweetest pair of big green eyes batted up at her. “ Aren ’ t you just a baby doll? ”
Instantly enchanted, Dixie laid her menu down and leaned forward over the empty stool next to her. “ Hope you don ’ t mind my saying it, but I do believe that accent of yours is bigger than you are. ”
“ I ’ m not supposed to talk to strangers, ” the little dark- haired girl drawled out again.
“ You ’ re not here all by yourself, are you? ” Dixie glanced around. No one at the counter. No one at the register. “ That is, there is someone who brought you in here, right? Maybe just went to the rest room or something like that? ”
“ I ’ m not supposed to— ”
“ Yes, I know, talk to strangers. ” Was that the only sentence this child knew? Dixie darted her gaze here and there over every visible place in the small store.
Who would leave a young child unattended like this? Even in a small town like Fulton ’ s Dominion, people just didn ’ t do that. They watched the national news here just the same as they did in Jackson and larger cities. Things happened to children left alone. Everybody knew that.
The child set her leg to swinging, the untied laces of one of her precious pink tennis shoes flapping back and forth against her white tights.
Dixie touched her mother ’ s pearl necklace, which she always wore, as if trying to draw on some inherent maternal guidance. Someone would come strolling up to claim the child any moment now. She was sure of it.
Her eyes glued to Dixie, the girl took her large paper cup and almost went blue in the face trying to draw one of the fountain ’ s famous extra-thick milkshakes up through a pencil- thin straw.
Dixie had to hold herself back from taking that straw away from the girl and handing her a spoon. If she wasn ’ t supposed to talk to strangers, she most certainly would not accept better dining suggestions from one, would she?
The girl gulped, but anyone could tell it was mostly air. She paused
More whacking and rattling sounds answered her.
“ Okay, then. ” Dixie smiled, gave a wave, took a step backward.
Whap, whap, whap, whap.
She made a beeline for the counter, then plopped herself right down on one of the stools. Rushed, worried, and now falling further behind in her schedule.
For one fleeting instant she thought she ’ d bust out crying all over the “ Sights to See in Mississippi ” paper placemat in front of her. That darned combination of exhaustion and self- pity had crept up on her again.
Everything had changed so fast. A few weeks ago her life consisted of the best hotels in the South, a lavish expense account, closing big deals for the company, and only coming back to Fulton ’ s Dominion for holidays and a few weekends scattered through any given month.
At least she could take comfort that all that nonsense was behind her. She ’ d finally have a chance to settle down, to make a home for herself, maybe even find someone to love and have a family with. Daddy ’ s passing had brought her need for those things keenly into focus and deepened the ache inside her for all she had lost, all she ’ d never had.
“ Be back to get your order in a minute, hon. ” The waitress clunked down a glass of ice water with a paper-covered straw.
Dixie blinked, taking a moment to realize where she was and how she had come to be there. She slid a plastic-coated menu from behind one gleaming, silver napkin holder and flicked it open. “ Well, since it looks like I ’ m going to be here awhile, I guess no one could fault me for grabbing a little something to eat. ”
“ I ’ m not supposed to talk to strangers, ma ’ am. ”
“ Actually, I wasn ’ t... ” She spun ‘ round on the stool, stopping short when she caught a glimpse of who had spoken to her. “ Well, hello there. ”
The sweetest pair of big green eyes batted up at her. “ Aren ’ t you just a baby doll? ”
Instantly enchanted, Dixie laid her menu down and leaned forward over the empty stool next to her. “ Hope you don ’ t mind my saying it, but I do believe that accent of yours is bigger than you are. ”
“ I ’ m not supposed to talk to strangers, ” the little dark- haired girl drawled out again.
“ You ’ re not here all by yourself, are you? ” Dixie glanced around. No one at the counter. No one at the register. “ That is, there is someone who brought you in here, right? Maybe just went to the rest room or something like that? ”
“ I ’ m not supposed to— ”
“ Yes, I know, talk to strangers. ” Was that the only sentence this child knew? Dixie darted her gaze here and there over every visible place in the small store.
Who would leave a young child unattended like this? Even in a small town like Fulton ’ s Dominion, people just didn ’ t do that. They watched the national news here just the same as they did in Jackson and larger cities. Things happened to children left alone. Everybody knew that.
The child set her leg to swinging, the untied laces of one of her precious pink tennis shoes flapping back and forth against her white tights.
Dixie touched her mother ’ s pearl necklace, which she always wore, as if trying to draw on some inherent maternal guidance. Someone would come strolling up to claim the child any moment now. She was sure of it.
Her eyes glued to Dixie, the girl took her large paper cup and almost went blue in the face trying to draw one of the fountain ’ s famous extra-thick milkshakes up through a pencil- thin straw.
Dixie had to hold herself back from taking that straw away from the girl and handing her a spoon. If she wasn ’ t supposed to talk to strangers, she most certainly would not accept better dining suggestions from one, would she?
The girl gulped, but anyone could tell it was mostly air. She paused
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