Sweet Tea At Sunrise

The suggestion that he might be anything like his daddy offended Travis deeply, but she had no way of knowing that. “I certainly do hold him up as an example,” he said slowly, holding her gaze. “Of what not to be.”

She blinked at the heat behind his words. “Okay, then. Good for you.” She stood up hurriedly. “Nice talking to you, Travis McDonald.”

“You, too, Sarah,” he said with more sincerity than she’d managed.

He watched her walk away, wondering at the fact that he was still fascinated despite all the complications screaming at him to stay far, far away.

Mary Vaughn Lewis couldn’t recall a time in her life when she’d been happier. When she’d married Sonny Lewis the first time, she’d been after respectability and security. He was the son of the town mayor and owner of a successful car dealership. Married to Sonny, she’d believed no one would ever look down on her again or bring up her less-than-respectable family.

They’d divorced because he’d tired of her taking him for granted. Or maybe because he’d tired of being second best to Ronnie Sullivan, who’d never even given her a second glance despite her very best efforts to catch his attention. It was hard to say just why Sonny had lost patience, but the divorce had been a shock just the same. She’d never envisioned Sonny leaving her. The one constant in her life had been his adoration from the time they’d been teenagers.

Only after they’d been apart for a while had Mary Vaughn realized what a treasure Sonny was. She’d found herself drawn to him in a whole new way. The passion that had been methodical the first time around had been rekindled into something that stunned her with its intensity. In their forties, they were like two kids who couldn’t get enough of each other.

As much as this new side of their relationship thrilled her, it was seriously cutting into her career as a real estate agent. She’d realized she was well and truly hooked on her new husband when she chose running home for a mid-afternoon quickie over showing houses or closing a deal. Her schedule, once packed with appointments she refused to change, was now subject to her husband’s timetable and the sudden impulses that might strike either one of them.

Which is why she was at home and breathless when she had a call from Travis McDonald inquiring about real estate downtown. Though she had no intention of stopping what she was doing, she couldn’t keep herself from listening to his message. Since moving a property on Main Street or anywhere in the vicinity was rare, she yanked the sheet up to her chin, pushed away Sonny’s roving hand and took notice, grabbing the phone out of its cradle before he could hang up.

“I have a few properties that might suit your needs,” she immediately told the man on the other end of the line. “When would you like to look?”

“How’s this afternoon?” he said, sounding eager. “I could meet you in a half hour.”

“A half hour will be perfect,” she said at once, ignoring Sonny’s resigned expression. She settled the details, hung up the phone and turned to her husband. “Five minutes to dress, another five to get there. That leaves us twenty minutes. You up to the challenge?”

Sonny grinned. “You ever know me not to be?” he said, already reaching for her.

A half hour later, Mary Vaughn’s hair was a bit more tousled than usual, her cheeks a little pinker, as she pulled her Mercedes to the curb. Even so, a glance at her watch told her she was right on time. Just one more incidence in her life when Sonny hadn’t let her down.

At the end of May there was a frenzy of speculation in Wharton’s when a SOLD sign appeared on the window of an empty space on Azalea Drive, just across the street from Town Hall and on the other side of the square from Wharton’s.

Once occupied by a small newsstand that had sold magazines, cigarettes and Coca-Cola in bottles out of an old-fashioned red cooler, it had been empty for several years. The dingy front window had been covered over with curling brown paper, the once-green door was now faded and the rolled up awning was so dry-rotted it would probably crumble if anyone dared to open it.

For once, no one seemed to be able to pry even a tidbit of information from Mary Vaughn, who was usually only too eager to tell the world about the local real estate sales, especially those she’d made herself.

“Sorry, I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” she told Sarah and Grace when they ganged up on her one morning when she stopped in to pick up a cup of coffee to go.

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” Grace grumbled with a huff.

Mary Vaughn didn’t take offense. “The buyer paid full price to keep my mouth shut. What can I say? Money talks.”

“Well, you’d think whoever it is would want to set off some free word-of-mouth,” Grace said. “Must not have much business sense.”

Mary Vaughn grinned at Sarah. “Maybe we should talk about something else. I’m hoping Rory Sue’s going to move back home. Maybe she could get together with you, Annie and Raylene sometime. I think once she sees there are some young people still around, she’ll feel more positive about settling in Serenity, instead of heading over to Charleston. Sonny and I are just sick, thinking about her so far away. And you should hear her granddaddy going on and on about it. Howard’s beside himself.”

As if Charleston were at the other end of the earth, Sarah thought. In her opinion, it wasn’t quite far enough. Still, she fibbed, “We’d love to see her.”

The truth was, Rory Sue had always thought she was better than any of them, Raylene included. It didn’t seem to impress Rory Sue in the least that Raylene was the only girl in town who’d had a full-blown debutante season over in Charleston, thanks to her well-connected maternal grandparents.

Like her mama, Rory Sue thought she was hot stuff because of her family, the most powerful one in Serenity. That Howard and Sonny Lewis were big fish in a very tiny pond didn’t seem to faze her. It had also apparently escaped her notice that her maternal grandparents—Mary Vaughn’s mama and daddy—were less than noteworthy. More like notorious for their frequent drunken brawls, if the truth be told.

“Then I’ll be sure she gets in touch,” Mary Vaughn told Sarah, picking up her coffee and heading for the door.

“Don’t be coming back in here till you have some news you can share,” Grace called after her, not entirely in jest.

“We’ll find out what’s going on soon enough,” Sarah consoled Grace when Mary Vaughn just waved.

“Not good enough. I pride myself on knowing things first,” Grace replied. “I don’t understand all this secrecy unless it’s going to be one of those shops that sells sex toys or something like that.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe porno movies, though we have an ordinance against that, I think.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “If it’s not something that’s going to cause an uproar, why would the owner want to keep it a secret?”

Sarah bit back a laugh because she knew Grace was serious. “I’m not sure there’s a huge market for selling sex toys in Serenity,” she said. “And if I were ever to consider such a thing, I certainly wouldn’t put the business right here in plain view in the middle of downtown, where it’d be bound to stir up trouble. There are plenty of back alleys where a place like that might be able to operate in peace.”

“Well, some people don’t have your good sense,” Grace grumbled. She stirred a straw around in her sweet tea, her expression despondent. Eventually she turned back to Sarah. “Maybe you could talk to Jeanette, see what she knows.”

“Why Jeanette?”

“She’s married to the town manager, isn’t she?” Grace said, clearly warming to the idea. “If anybody knows what’s going on, Tom does. He’s the one on this big campaign to bring new business into downtown Serenity.”

“Good point,” Sarah conceded. “I’ll ask her when I go over to The Corner Spa later.” Of course, Jeanette hadn’t been all that forthcoming about her husband’s cousin, even when directly questioned by Annie, so apparently she knew how to be more discreet than the typical Sweet Magnolia. They were all pretty quick to share everything.

“If you find out anything, you call me, you hear,” Grace commanded. “Don’t be waiting till morning to let me know.”

“I’ll call,” Sarah promised, then noticed Grace looking out the window again. Her expression had brightened considerably.

“Now that’s real interesting,” Grace said. “Just look across the street, why don’t you?”

Sarah followed the direction of her gaze. There, wearing yet another pair of snug, faded jeans and a tight black T-shirt, was her mystery man, Travis McDonald himself…and he was walking right into that empty storefront as if he owned the place.

Chapter Three

A hum of excitement stirred inside Travis as he walked into the space that would soon be Serenity’s own country music radio station. To be honest, the task of fixing up the space and creating a studio that would overlook the town square was a little daunting. Right now the whole place reeked of stale tobacco, and the yellowed linoleum floor was scarred with burns from idiots who’d just ground out their cigarettes wherever they stood.

The only thing in the place worth saving was the old red Coca-Cola cooler. It might not serve much of a function in a radio station, but he liked the thought of having an antique like that around. He could keep it filled with soft drinks—bottled the old-fashioned way if he could find them—for the guests he envisioned putting on the air during a morning show he’d decided to call Carolina Daybreak. It would be a mix of music and local news and talk, the first place people would turn to—aside from Wharton’s—to find out what was going on in Serenity.

Now all he needed, aside from a significant amount of elbow grease, was the right person to sit in here and chat with residents and business folks or with anyone important who might be passing through town. He glanced across the square and spotted the person he had in mind standing in the doorway at Wharton’s, staring right back at him. He waved, and the woman he’d now identified as Mrs. Sarah Price, single mother of two, ducked out of his line of sight like a scared little rabbit.

Yep, the minute he’d verbally closed the deal for the radio station, he’d decided to woo her away from waiting tables and turn her into a small-town celebrity. For days he’d watched her talking to the regulars in Wharton’s in a natural way that kept them laughing and made them open up. He had a hunch she could get people to spill secrets faster than a skilled detective…and make ’em enjoy doing it. She’d bring the friendly atmosphere of Wharton’s right into the studio.

Of course, the fact that she couldn’t seem to string two sentences together around him half the time gave him pause, but he was convinced that was an aberration. An intriguing one, in fact. For now, though, any thoughts of pursuing her for anything beyond her ability to charm potential listeners had to be put on hold. He had enough to do just getting this station on the air.

As soon as the paperwork was done and he’d finalized his plans and won the necessary approvals from the Federal Communications Commission for going on the air, he intended to sit Sarah down and have a serious conversation with her about how he could change her life.

Hopefully she wouldn’t get so nervous she’d dump a pot of scalding hot coffee all over him.

For now, though, he had a lot of work to do. He walked over to Main Street to the hardware store and filled a cart with cleaning supplies. He figured he’d come back again for paint, lumber, wallboard and flooring once the whole place had been emptied out and scrubbed down and he knew what he had to work with. Maybe Jeanette would want to help him pick the colors. He liked the way her home felt—cozy and inviting—and he wanted his radio station to feel the same way. Maybe with a little less of that flowery fabric, though. He had no idea how Tom lived with that. He’d probably been blinded to it by love.

When Travis set all his supplies on the counter, the man behind it looked over the purchases. “You must be the guy who bought the old newsstand,” he concluded.

Travis grinned at his assumption. “I did. Isn’t anyplace else in town that filthy?”

“Not much that I know of,” the man said. “I’m Ronnie Sullivan, by the way. My wife, Dana Sue, owns Sullivan’s, the best restaurant in the entire state.”