After retreating from the bank in defeat, Tish had spent the rest of the morning diligently job-hunting online and tweaking her résumé. She’d hoped to stay so busy that she wouldn’t have time to be mad at herself, but it hadn’t worked.

She shouldn’t have counted on the job at the bank. She shouldn’t have invested so much time and emotional energy in reading those stupid old letters. She shouldn’t have assumed that she’d be welcome in Noble. She probably shouldn’t have moved in the first place.

Now it was late afternoon. The mail truck had gone by already, but Tish decided she wouldn’t run outside for her mail until the truck made its return trip on the other side of the street. Pacing the living room, she kept one ear on the street and rehearsed what she wanted to say to her neighbor.

“Look, lady,” she said under her breath. “Don’t pretend to be nice. You hate me for being the idiot who gave that terrible Mel Hamilton a place to stay when her own parents wouldn’t.”

Hearing the mail truck, she cracked the door open to watch. The truck pulled up in front of the green house, paused for a few seconds, and moved on to the next house.

“Okay, snotty neighbor,” she said. “Stop avoiding me.”

Mel had told her the woman’s name was Mrs. Nair and she used to be the school nurse. That was all Tish knew, besides the fact that Mrs. Nair seemed to be allergic to contact with her new neighbor. Twice now, Tish had stepped outside to introduce herself, and the woman had nipped back inside as if she’d seen a ghost.

Mrs. Nair’s screen door opened, and she stepped onto the porch. Slowly, limping a little, she made her way down the steps and across her yard. When she was busy unlatching the gate of her white picket fence, Tish made her move.

Trying to be quiet about it, she hurried out of the house and across the yard. After a quick check for traffic, she jogged across the street, gaining the curb just as Mrs. Nair reached her mailbox. Perfect timing. The woman couldn’t retreat now, with her mail only inches away. Up close, her beaky nose and spiky hair reminded Tish of some exotic bird—in a lavender pantsuit.

“Hi, Mrs. Nair,” Tish said with forced cheer. “I’ve been hoping you’d give me a chance to introduce myself. I’m your new neighbor, Letitia McComb.” She stuck out her hand.

Mrs. Nair clasped it. “Annalee Nair, and I’m so glad to finally meet you. A couple of times when I was letting the cat in or out, I was too embarrassed to come out and say hey. Sometimes I’m up all night with my husband—he’s in poor health—so my days and nights get turned around, like a baby, and there I am, still in my pajamas in broad daylight.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “They’re scandalous too. About twenty years old and threadbare.”

Rapidly reassessing the woman, Tish could only laugh. “I have some awful pajamas too. They’re not threadbare, but they’re ugly. Pink with yellow duckies.”

Mrs. Nair whooped with laughter, a delight to Tish’s ears.

“Woo-hoo!” someone shouted. “Yeeeeeee-haw!” Mel charged up the sidewalk like a schoolgirl turned loose for summer vacation.

Tish took a quick breath. “I was just about to tell you I have a houseguest, and here she comes. Mel Hamilton.”

Mrs. Nair peered down the street. “Is that Mel? I don’t know how many children I knew in my forty-five years as a school nurse, but she’s one I’ll never forget.”

Mel was approaching rapidly, her face aglow and her hair a mess. “I got a job!” she yelled. “I got a job!”

“Congratulations,” Tish said. “Where?”

“George! George’s shop! He hired me.”

Great, Tish thought. She’d lost the bank job because Farris heard she’d taken Mel in. Now Mel had a job—with George, who didn’t need an employee.

Mel slowed her pace for the last few feet and drew up beside them. “Hello, Mrs. Nair,” she said, panting a little.

“Hello, Melanie. My, you do favor your mama.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Better her than—” She stopped short and flashed a grin. “Tish is awesome, Mrs. Nair. She’s really generous and everything.” She turned to Tish. “Now I can be generous too. I’ll have moneeeeeeeeey!”

“You’ll need to be careful with your money before you can be generous,” Tish said. “Once you know how much you’ll be making, I can help you set up a budget. And I can take you to the bank to open an account.”

Mel’s smile faded. “A budget?”

Calv’s blue pickup slowed in front of the house. He lifted a hand in a lazy wave and pulled onto the track that led back to the garage.

“Oh! I have to tell him about the job,” Mel said breathlessly. “Yee-haw, the job!” She raced across the street, her sneakers slapping hard on the pavement, and chased the truck around the house.

“My goodness.” The retired nurse reached into her mailbox for her mail. “So much energy. She’s a handful, that one, but I always had a soft spot in my heart for her. She wasn’t favored in school, you know.”

“She mentioned that, but I don’t know the details.”

Mrs. Nair started sorting her mail and sighed. “Well, I’m glad she found a job when jobs are so scarce. I hope it will work out well for both her and George.”

“Me too.” Tish said good-bye and walked across the street to her own mailbox. Junk mail, a magazine, and bills. Bills, bills, bills. She didn’t want to look at them, much less open them.

A quick glance at her next-door neighbors’ house confirmed that they weren’t venturing out for their mail. Sooner or later, she would meet them too. She headed inside, grateful for so much but worried at the same time. If she couldn’t find a job, she wouldn’t be able to pay her bills. She’d get behind on her house payment, and that would add to her reputation as one of those less-than-respectable McCombs. An unemployed McComb. A slouch. And a Yankee to boot.

She walked slowly up the stairs and lay across her bed. Calv’s laughter rang out, muffled by distance, and she imagined Mel out there in the garage, regaling him with her tale of landing a job the first day she started looking.

Closing her eyes, Tish revisited the day, starting with Mel trudging away that morning, looking defeated before she’d begun, and ending with the way she’d raced home, screaming that George had hired her. He could have played the just-protecting-my-business card, like Farris, but he hadn’t.

Tish smiled. “Bless you, George,” she whispered, suddenly smitten with him for taking a chance on Mel.

On the other hand, it was aggravating that Mel found a job when she was the reason the bank job hadn’t worked out for Tish.

Tish frowned, remembering her conversation with Farris, and before that, her encounter with Marian. The anger, the frustration, the pitiful attempt at peeling out of a parking lot in a Volvo. Well, none of it mattered now, at least for a little while.

She needed to come up with a celebration dinner for Mel. A cheap one.

Carrying the pizza box toward the garage with Daisy scampering beside him, George felt considerable trepidation about sharing his news. Several times during the afternoon, he’d nearly called Calv but chickened out every time.

He heard music long before he rounded the camellias. When the garage came into view, George had to grin. Calv had hauled so many amenities into the garage that it had started to resemble a clubhouse. His boom box was pumping out some Stevie Ray Vaughan, as usual, and now he’d added a large cooler, four sun-bleached camp chairs, and a giant oscillating fan, although the weather hadn’t even warmed up yet.

Calv was occupying one of the camp chairs and reading one of the old newspapers he swore by for their glass-cleaning properties. Looking up, he let out a deep sigh of contentment. “I just love readin’ about other folks’ troubles. They make mine look a little smaller.”

“When did you turn so hardhearted?”

Calv reached into the cooler and pulled out two dripping cans of Coke. “When did you turn so grumpy?”

Ignoring that, George got Daisy situated with her own dinner and water bowl in the corner, then took one of the camp chairs. His hands black with grease, Calv tore off paper towels to use as plates and napkins, then opened the box. The pizza seemed greasier than usual, and that was saying something.

George cast a furtive look into the yard, half expecting Mel to show up before he’d said anything to Calv. Or maybe she’d already told him. “I have a confession to make.”

“Sounds serious. You killed somebody? You stole something?”

“No. I’ve lost something.”

Calv regarded him in silence, took another bite, and waited while Stevie Ray’s guitar carried on. And on.

“My mind,” George said. “I’ve lost my mind.”

“Ah. What did you do this time, Zorbas?”

“At the shop, I … I hired Mel. Well, not officially. I told her we had to talk about my conditions, but she seems to think it’s a done deal.”

Calv’s smile was sly. “She sure does. She came running out here, screaming her fool head off. Said you gave her a job.”

“You let me suffer in silence when you already knew?”

“Yes sir, I think it’s good for you to stew in your own juices sometimes.”

George shook his head. “Speaking of juices, that’s disgusting.” He studied the paper towel in Calv’s hand, smudged with pizza sauce, pizza grease, and automotive grease. “Good thing the ladies aren’t around to comment on your table manners.”

“Or yours. No, the ladies went out to celebrate Mel’s job. Tish gave her a choice. Pizza or Bag-a-’Cue.” Calv frowned. “Mel wanted Bag-a-’Cue. She said pizza makes her think of Dumpsters.”

“Dumpsters?”

“And stray cats. And after she said that, she started squalling like a baby.”

“Crying, you mean?”

“Yeah, except she was laughing at the same time.” Calv shook his head. “I hope you didn’t hire yourself a crazy girl.”

“At any rate, it’s too late to change my mind now.”

“It was too late the minute you said anything to Mel.”

George nodded glumly. “I’m an idiot.”

“You won’t get no argument from me.” Calv laughed. “Actually, I see what you’re doing.”

“Hanging my head in despair?”

“No, you’re trying to impress Miss Tish with how kind and generous you are.”

George shook his head emphatically. “She hardly knows Mel, but she gives her a place to stay. I’ve known Mel all my life. I can at least hire her a few days a week.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s only on a trial basis, and I’ll give Mel some strict rules. If she can’t abide by my rules, she’s gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

Grease oozed from the pizza onto George’s paper towel, reminding him of Mel’s strange comment about Dumpsters and stray cats. “I wonder how my loyal customers will react when they find out.”

“Dunc won’t want his wife shopping with us anymore, will he? Just when you bought another big batch of Gone with the Wind garbage.”

“Collectibles,” George corrected. “Moneymakers.” He frowned. “You think he’s afraid Suzette will do the right thing and be nice to their kid?”

Calv shook his head. “She’s been under his thumb so long that she’s forgotten how to think for herself. No, I think he’ll order her to stay away to spite the both of you. You and Mel. Behind the Mr. Nice Guy act, he’s ugly mean. And sometimes I wonder about Stu.”

“Nah. Stu’s all right. He just needs to grow a backbone, if it’s not too late for that.”

“It’s never too late for a man to change,” Calv said. “Or a girl.”

George nodded, hoping he was right.