Chapter 30
Emmaline
I was in dire need of a nap. Between the ungodly early hours I kept for the bakery—up at four to have fresh bread ready by opening—and the new husband who had thrown my historically rigid sleep schedule into delightful chaos, my butt was dragging.
Not that I was complaining about the reason for my exhaustion, but I’d reached that particular stage of newlywed bliss where multiple orgasms weren’t going to serve as a sustainable energy source.
My body was sending up white flags of surrender.
I’d sold out by a quarter to four today—a delightful miracle that had left me grinning like a fool as I flipped the sign to closed.
Business had been picking up since I’d reopened, and I was starting to hope this kind of day might repeat itself with some regularity.
The thought of consistent sell-outs made my nerdy accountant’s heart sing almost as loudly as my baker’s pride.
Sell-outs meant I could eventually afford to take on some part-time help.
I’d locked up early and headed home with some vague notion of tackling the mountain of laundry that had been breeding in the bedroom, but now that I stood in the living room, I reconsidered those priorities.
If I stretched out on the couch right now, I could squeeze in almost two solid hours of sleep before Bodie finished his shift and came home looking for dinner—or decided to have me instead and suggested a frozen pizza after.
The temptation was almost overwhelming. Better yet, I could stretch out upstairs on that big king-sized bed and cuddle with Bodie’s pillow, falling asleep to the scent of him.
Lured by the irresistible prospect of some much-needed shuteye, I was already halfway up the stairs when the sharp knock echoed through the house.
The sound made me pause mid-step, frowning down at the front door.
Bodie wouldn’t knock on his own door. And we didn’t have random drop-bys these days, unless it was one of his family members.
Even they had developed the courtesy of calling first, though, owing to our very obvious newlywed status and the understanding that interrupting might be. .. awkward.
Sighing at my vanishing nap, I reversed direction and headed back down the stairs.
My cousin Roxie stood on the front porch with a covered dish balanced in both hands, her dark hair pulled back into one of those messy knots that somehow looked effortlessly stylish on her but would make me look like I’d been caught in a windstorm.
She wore a sundress that had seen better days but was clean and pressed, and her expression held that particular mix of determination and nervousness that usually meant family business was about to rear its complicated head.
When I only blinked at her in surprise, still processing her unexpected appearance, she flashed one of those quick, uncertain smiles that reminded me of when we were kids and she was trying to talk me into some scheme that would probably get us both in trouble.
“Hey there, cuz.” She shifted the dish to get a better grip. “Brought you some of Mama’s banana pudding before my brothers could polish off the whole pan. You know how they are—like a pack of locusts when it comes to dessert.”
I let out a startled laugh that was part amusement, part genuine surprise.
“Well, that’s... that’s awfully neighborly of you, Roxie.
” The words came out more cautious than I’d intended, but I couldn’t help it.
I wasn’t sure I wanted anything from Aunt Karen, but I had to admit she did make the best banana pudding in the entire extended family.
Mostly because she was one of the few people left who still made the custard from scratch instead of taking shortcuts with instant pudding mix. It was about the only thing she made.
“Hot as it’s been lately, we all need something cold and sweet,” Roxie said, tilting her head toward my front yard. “Your hydrangeas are looking real good, by the way. Mine about got cooked to death last week when the temperature hit ninety-five three days running.”
I resisted the automatic urge to point out that they were technically Bodie’s hydrangeas, inherited along with everything else when I’d moved into his house.
The correction felt petty and unnecessary.
“Yeah, I’ve been having to soak them twice a day to keep them from wilting.
This false fall weather’s been tricky. We get these nice, cool mornings that fool you into thinking autumn’s finally here, but then the days still turn into absolute scorchers.
” I stepped back, opening the door wider.
“Come on in before we both melt out here.”
She trailed me into the house, her eyes scanning the living room the way visitors always did when they entered someone else’s space.
I found myself wondering what she saw. Probably not much evidence of me, if I was being honest. The furniture was all Bodie’s, chosen with a bachelor’s practical sensibilities.
The walls were still the same neutral beige they’d been when I moved in, and most of the decorative touches bore his stamp rather than mine.
Bodie had been after me to change things, to make the place feel more like ours instead of his with a few of my belongings scattered around the edges.
We’d even made tentative plans to go pick out some paint colors when we could manage to find some overlapping free time in our schedules during hours the hardware store was actually open.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked as Roxie settled the pudding on the kitchen counter. “I’ve got sweet tea, coffee, or I could make some fresh lemonade if you’ve got the time.”
“I’d love a glass of that sweet tea if you don’t mind.”
I poured tall glasses for both of us, adding extra ice to combat the lingering heat, and we settled ourselves at the kitchen table.
For the next several minutes, we performed the expected social dance—a little complaint about the weather and how the heat was hanging on longer than usual, some grumbling about the detour everyone had to take because the county still hadn’t gotten around to fixing the bridge that had washed out in the flood, and a shared moment of commiseration about how the cicadas had been so loud they could drown out the TV even when you turned the volume all the way up.
It was comfortable, familiar territory, the kind of easy conversation that reminded me why I’d always liked Roxie better than some of my other cousins.
But I could sense an undercurrent of purpose beneath the pleasantries, a tension in the way she held her shoulders that suggested this wasn’t just a social call.
Then she leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table, and her expression shifted into something more serious. “I went up to see Wes last weekend.”
My heart gave a sharp thump against my ribs, and I tried my best to keep my voice casual despite the sudden spike of anxiety. “Yeah? How’s he doing?”
“Better than I’d expect, considering the circumstances.” Her voice carried a note of surprise, as if she’d been bracing herself for the worst. “He asked after you, like he always does. Wants to know how you’re holding up, whether you’re taking care of yourself.”
I pressed my palms flat against the smooth surface of the table, using the solid contact to ground myself. “What’d he say about… everything?” I braced myself, preparing to hear how angry and betrayed he still was over my marriage to Bodie, how much he resented the choice I’d made.
Roxie’s expression softened, and she smiled a little.
“Same thing he always says about you. That you’re the steady one in the family.
The one who shows up when it matters, who keeps her word no matter what.
He knows you’ve had his back all this time, through everything.
” She paused, her voice dropping a little.
“But I won’t lie to you—he’s hanging a lot of hope on this upcoming hearing. We all are.”
Relief and gratitude flooded through me so hard that I had to blink back the sudden threat of tears.
So Wesley hadn’t spilled the truth about our business arrangement to the rest of the family.
He hadn’t told them that my marriage was primarily about securing my inheritance.
I hadn’t even thought to warn him not to mention it—hadn’t considered that other family members would be making their own visits to the prison.
It said something that he was still protecting my secrets and covering for my choices, even when he was upset about what I was doing and how I was going about it.
I swallowed hard around the tightness in my throat. “Yeah, he mentioned the hearing to me too.”
“We’re all doing what we can to help.” Roxie leaned forward with growing enthusiasm.
“Uncle Ray and Aunt Viv have been writing character reference letters, and so have most of the cousins. We’ve even managed to line up a proper place for him to stay if he gets approved for early release.
Aunt Viv’s basement apartment is sitting empty right now, and she’s more than willing to let him use it.
Plus, it’ll keep him well clear of Mama and Marla’s constant drama and nonsense. ”
I had to drop my gaze to the tabletop, afraid that Roxie would see how much her words meant to me.
For months now, I’d been carrying the weight of feeling like I was Wesley’s only advocate, his sole source of support in a family that seemed determined to either forget about him or hold his mistakes against him forever.
To hear that others were working on his behalf, that he wasn’t as alone as I’d feared…
it mattered more than I wanted to admit, even to myself.
“That’s really good news,” I managed, my voice a little thick. “He’s going to need that kind of support system when he gets out. Having family in his corner will make all the difference.”
Roxie reached across the table and gave my hand a quick, warm squeeze before letting go.
“He’s not alone in this, Emmaline. Not by a long shot.
Not everybody in this family is carrying around old grudges and looking for reasons to stay mad.
Most of us just want him home safe and settled, ready to start over. ”
The knot of anxiety and guilt that had been living in my chest for months began to ease, just a little.
For so long, I’d been bracing myself like it was me against the entire world, like I was the only person who still believed Wesley deserved a second chance.
To discover that others were pulling for him too, working behind the scenes to help him rebuild his life, was like discovering I’d been holding my breath without realizing it.
Roxie leaned back in her chair, exhaling like she’d been carrying a weight of her own and was finally able to set it down.
“And since I’m already here, laying my cards on the table, I’ll just say this plain: I’m genuinely glad you decided to say to hell with this ridiculous feud.
Most of us younger Maddoxes have been over it for years now.
It’s really just Mama and Marla who keep dragging the whole thing up like it happened yesterday instead of over a century ago. ”
I laughed, surprised at the sound coming out of my own mouth. “You mean the Great Potato Salad Showdown of ’92 doesn’t still haunt every single family gathering?”
“Oh, it absolutely does.” She rolled her eyes.
“They bring that stupid incident up like clockwork every time we’re all in the same room together.
Like Elsie Gibson somehow rigged the state fair so her recipe won the blind taste test?
The rest of us have taken to hanging out in the kitchen, making bets on how long it’ll take before one of them starts spitting nails about ancient history. It’s ridiculous. Always has been.”
Warmth spread through me at her refreshing bluntness. Maybe I hadn’t lost all of my family connections after all. Maybe there were more people on my side than I’d dared to hope.
After another comfortable stretch of conversation, Roxie pushed back her chair and smoothed down her sundress.
“I should probably let you get back to your evening before Bodie gets home expecting some kind of civilized dinner.” She hesitated when we reached the front door, her voice dropping to something more serious and confidential.
“Just keep your eyes open around town, okay? Mama and Marla have been way too quiet lately. Suspiciously quiet. And you know as well as I do what that usually means when those two are involved.”
I forced a steadying breath past the sudden tightness that had returned to my throat. “I was really hoping they were just tied up with dealing with Gran’s house and all the estate stuff.”
The look Roxie gave me made it clear that I knew better than that, and she knew I knew better.
She stepped closer and wrapped me in a quick hug that was all genuine affection and fierce protectiveness.
“If I hear anything specific, anything at all, I’ll make sure to let you know ASAP.
I love you, cuz. Watch your back, okay?”
The front door clicked shut behind her with a soft, final sound, and I stood there alone in my kitchen, hyperaware of the mechanical hum of the refrigerator and the way it seemed unnaturally loud in the settling silence.
For the first time in months, I could feel the warm flicker of genuine support from my own blood family, people who knew me and cared about my wellbeing regardless of the choices I’d made.
But Roxie’s parting warning lingered in the air like smoke from a fire that hadn’t quite been extinguished, and I couldn’t shake the growing certainty that she was right to be concerned.
In my experience, prolonged quiet from Marla and Karen had never once meant they were ready to let sleeping dogs lie.
It usually meant they were planning something.