I changedout of my cleaning clothes and into a sundress, then Liza drove us into town in her old Buick that floated around corners like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade float. She squeezed into a parking space in front of a storefront under an orange awning. The sign in the window said Dino’s Pizza.
A few doors down was some kind of salon or barbershop, its brick facade painted a deep blue. An arrangement of whiskey bottles and cacti in clay pots created an eye-catching window display.
When we got out, a pair of bikers strolled out of the pizza shop, headed toward two Harleys. One of them shot me a wink and a grin.
“That ain’t Tina,” Liza bellowed.
“I know,” he called back. “How’s it goin’, Not Tina?”
Well, at least the fact that I wasn’t Tina was starting to sink in. But I wasn’t very fond of the Not Tina nickname. I waved awkwardly and pushed Waylay ahead of me toward the restaurant door, hoping that the Not Tina thing wouldn’t catch on.
Liza ignored the Please Wait to Be Seated sign and shoved herself into an empty booth.
Waylay marched after her while I hesitated, wanting permission.
“Be right with y’all,” the guy behind the counter called.
Relieved, I slid into the booth next to Waylay.
“So what do you think of Knockemout so far?” Liza asked me.
“Oh, uh. It’s very charming,” I said, perusing the salads on the menu. “How did the town get its name?”
“Don’t know if there’s an official answer. Just that this town has always settled its differences with a good old-fashioned fight. None of this dragging things out in court, getting hoity-toity lawyers involved. Somebody does you wrong, you ring their bell, and then you’re square. Simple. Quick.”
“That’s not how everyone solves problems,” I told Waylay sternly.
“I don’t know. It’s awful satisfying punching someone in the face,” my niece mused. “You ever try it?”
“Physical violence is never the answer,” I insisted.
“Maybe she’s right,” Liza said, addressing Waylay. “Look at my grandsons. Some things can’t be solved with a couple of punches.”
“Knox had Nash in a headlock,” Waylay said.
“Where is our server?” I asked no one in particular.
“Sounds about right,” Liza agreed with Waylay.
“What are they fightin’ about?” my niece asked.
“Those mule-headed boys are always fighting.”
“I heard it was about a woman.”
I jolted as the server leaned over the table to throw down napkins and straws.
“Now what woman would that be, Neecey?” Liza said.
“I’m just repeatin’ what I heard.”
“Seein’ as how everyone knows Knox hasn’t dated a girl from this town since high school. Remember Jilly Aucker moved herself to Canton just to see if a change in zip code would push him over the edge?”
“Yeah. Then she met that lumberjack and had his four lumberjack babies,” Neecey said.
I didn’t want to be interested in that particular information, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I’m just repeatin’ what I heard. It’s a damn shame neither of those boys have ever settled down.” Neecey adjusted her glasses and cracked her gum. “If I were twenty years younger, I’d end their feud by selflessly offering to share myself with both of them.”
“I’m sure your husband would have something to say about that,” Liza ventured.
“Vin’s fallin’ asleep on the sofa five nights out of seven every week for the past ten years. In my book, you snooze, you lose. You must be Not Tina,” the server said. “Heard you and Knox got into screaming matches at the cafe and Honky Tonk, and then he apologized, but you broke a chair over his head, and he needed six stitches.”
I was rendered speechless. Waylay, on the other hand, erupted into peals of laughter.
This town certainly loved its gossip. With rumors like that, it was no wonder I hadn’t heard anything from the caseworker yet. They were probably working on a warrant for my arrest.
“This here’s Naomi and her niece, Waylay,” Liza said, making the introductions.
“And I didn’t break a chair over anyone’s head, no matter how much they deserved it. I’m a very responsible adult,” I told Neecey, in hopes that she’d pass that rumor along.
“Huh. Bummer,” she said.
“Can I have a dollar to play some music?” Waylay asked, pointing at the jukebox in the corner after we’d placed our orders.
Before I could say anything, Liza shoved a crumpled five-dollar bill at her. “Play some country. I miss hearing it.”
“Thanks!” Waylay snatched the bill out of Liza’s hand and headed for the jukebox.
“Why don’t you listen to country anymore?” I asked.
That same look she’d had when Waylay asked her about the photo came back. Wistful and sad. “My daughter was the one who played it. Had it on the radio morning, noon, and night. Taught the boys to line dance practically before they could walk.”
There was a lot of past tense in that sentence. Spontaneously, I reached out and squeezed her hand. Her focus came back to me, and she squeezed my hand back before pulling free.
“Speakin’ of family, my grandson sure has shown some interest in you.”
“Nash has been so helpful since I got to town,” I said.
“Not Nash, you ninny. Knox.”
“Knox?” I repeated, certain I’d heard her wrong.
“Big guy? Tattoos? Pissed off at the world?”
“He hasn’t shown interest, Liza. He’s shown disdain, disgust, and malice.” He’d also shared an aggressive announcement that his body found my body attractive, but the rest of him found the rest of me revolting.
She hooted. “I bet you’re the one.”
“The one what?”
“The one who’s gonna have him reconsidering this whole bachelor deal. Bet money you’re the first girl he dates from this town in twenty-plus years. And by dates, I mean—”
I held the menu up over my face. “I understand what you mean, but you’re very, very wrong.”
“He’s quite the catch,” she insisted. “And not just cause of the lottery money.”
I was 100 percent certain she was messing with me.
“Knox won the lottery?” I asked dryly.
“Eleven million. Couple of years back.”
I blinked. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As a heart attack. And he wasn’t one of those buy-a-big-ass-mansion-and-a-fleet-of-foreign-cars winners. He’s even richer now than when he got that big check,” she said with pride.
The man’s boots were older than Waylay.
He lived on his grandmother’s property in a cabin.
I thought of Warner and his family, who definitely did not have $11 million, but acted as if they were the crustiest of the upper crust.
“But he’s just so…grumpy.”
Liza smirked. “Guess it just goes to show money can’t buy happiness.”
* * *