CHAPTER TWENTY

Wrap Party

The members of Road Kill—plus Meg Brown—were on a tour bus rolling down I-20 East. Fred glanced up from the driver’s seat to survey the motley crew in his rearview mirror. “Two more hours and we’ll be in Skerry!”

From his seat by the window, Graham grunted. “Woo-ee. I can hardly contain my excitement at seeing Tom Brooks again.”

“And whose fault is that, you ‘redneck lothario’?” Pinky teased, then turned to wink at Meg. She looked up from the romance novel she was reading and beamed. “Aw, you read that in my new manuscript!”

“I keep telling you people, it wasn’t like that,” Graham protested. “I didn’t even get a good smooch out of the deal! And my jaw’s still sore where that man decked me on false pretenses!”

Meg glanced over her reading glasses. “Oh, please, Graham. I’m bettin’ there are husbands all over this country who missed their opportunity to take a punch at you! Tom just got lucky.”

“Okay, y’all need to hush. I got a new song comin’ together here.” Willard’s face took on a mournful cast as he did a quick tuning of his guitar strings and began to sing.

“Oh, our days on the road are ending, my friend;
we’re closin’ that chapter and door.

Who knows what adventures lie just ahead,
at Pinky’s Palace, forevermore.”

“How’s that strike ya?”

“Dead!” pronounced Bo. “You ever thought of a career in aluminum siding? ‘Cause you shore ain’t gonna make it as a poet!”

“It ain’t finished yet,” Willard growled. “But somebody needs to write a special song for this last gig. Dang, we been on the road together more’n two decades; this is a big change!” He sighed heavily. “I’m a little bummed, this bein’ our last road trip.”

Bo rolled his eyes. “We ain’t dying, Willard. We’re givin’ up the road to be a house band. We’re still gonna be playin’ together.”

“Five days a week and twice on Saturday!” Pinky quipped as he stood up and stretched. “The boys that pick together, stick together!” He leaned against the safety bar at the front of the bus and crossed one foot over the other. “I can’t tell y’all how tickled I am that I was able to pull off this deal in Pigeon Forge. Daddy always told me if I put aside at least ten percent of every paycheck I ever got, it’d pay off someday—and he was right! I got my bride at my side,” he winked at Meg, “my kinfolk helpin’ me run the place, and I’ve hired the best musicians in the business—who just happen to be my best buddies. I’m as happy as a fat, little, bald-headed fella can be!”

“You’re gonna make Jeff Bezos look like an underachiever before you’re through!” Meg gushed from behind her book.

“You’ve encouraged me every step of the way, sugar lips!”

“Good gosh a’mighty!” Bo exclaimed. “Willard, start singin’ again! I’d rather listen to your trash than theirs!”

“You got it,” Willard said, and strummed a chord. “I call this one, ‘Ode to the Road’.”

“I believe the other Willie’s already got that one locked up!” jeered Fred.

“Shut up, bus boy,” Willard said and began to play.

My buds and me are wild and free;
We’ve roamed this country wide.

But one among us screwed it up—
Went off and took a bride.

As Meg gasped and threw her book aside to lunge for Willard’s guitar, the musician scrambled out of the way and continued.

So now we’re speedin’ on our way,

To one last outdoor gig.

We’ll make a memory tonight,
At the pickin’ of the pig.

Oh, we’re settlin’ down in Pigeon Forge;
Our ramblin’ days are done.

Pinky’s Palace in the gorge
Is where we’ll have our fun.

Five nights a week, two matinees;

We’re finally off that bus—

A steady paycheck in our hands;

The girls now come to US!

This time, everyone on the bus cheered and clapped, and Fred gave two enthusiastic toots of the horn.

“Whoo-ee!” Pinky whooped. “Now that there is a song! How ‘bout you sell me the rights to that, Willard? I’ll make ya a fair offer and we’ll open the show with it every night.”

Willard grinned like a chimpanzee. “You really like it?”

“Like it? I love it! It’s perfect! And I mean it—I wanna buy it! Think about it and let me know.”

“Who’da believed Pinky Brown would turn into a music business mogul?” Graham declared as he laughed and shook his head. “How many of your relatives you got on the payroll now?”

“Thirty-four cousins, two uncles, and three aunts. Mama wouldn’t let me hire the trailer trash side of the family,” Pinky said with a chuckle. “But y’all remember—I’m the only Brown that can boss you around. Any of my cousins try to act like big shots, you tell me.”

“Or me,” Meg interjected, “‘cause I’m the manager.” She shrugged. “‘Course I’ll be spending most of my time writing. Pinky says we can sell my romance novels in the gift shop.”

“That’s right, baby doll. And you can autograph ‘em after every show.” Pinky blew a kiss and Meg pretended to catch it.

Amid the gagging sounds, Meg raised her voice. “Hey, did y’all hear what my pen name’s gonna be?” She paused a moment for dramatic effect, smiling beatifically at each band member, then closed her eyes. “Lola Midnight,” she whispered.

“She might wanna check out that aluminum siding job, too,” Bo cracked in Fred’s ear, and the bus driver upset traffic in six lanes as he guffawed and laid into the horn.

A carnival atmosphere filled the streets of downtown Skerry. The town square teemed with festival goers in a tangle of balloons and streamers. The high school band played a Sousa march as Miss Pauline’s Dancing Dollies performed on the main stage. The aroma of roast pork, funnel cakes, and cotton candy wafted in the air. The weather gods had smiled on the mid-autumn day; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was Indian summer at its best.

Amanda Brooks, Pig Pickin’ Festival Director, surveyed the scene from her perch atop the Chamber of Commerce balcony. She held three clipboards, and sported a bulging fanny pack around her slender waist. The walkie-talkie in her left hand squawked incessantly, but Amanda’s expression was giddy. Beside her, as yet unnoticed by the crowd, stood Hayley Swift and Jack Bisbee.

Hayley grinned at her friend in bemusement. “You certainly seem in your element, kiddo. Sure you wanna give this up?”

“Why do you think I’m smilin’?”

“I thought maybe it was because Tipsy offered to take your mother-in-law off your hands for the day.”

“No, I considered that a direct gift from God!”

“They make a cute couple, don’t they?”

“They do, indeed,” Amanda agreed. “I haven’t seen Millicent Brooks emote that much in thirteen years! And who knew Tipsy was such a Romeo? Are you sure my children’s grandmother is safe with that silver fox?”

Jack trained Amanda’s binoculars on the square, trying to locate the couple in question. “Believe me, Tipsy’s all charm and no conquest. But to tell you the truth,” he said, handing the binoculars to Hayley, “I think he’s lonesome. This could be the best thing that happened to either one of them—and to you, too. Of course, that’s my unsolicited opinion.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “You’re in love. You have no judgment capabilities whatsoever.”

Hayley’s smile bordered on neon. “Are we that obvious?”

“Well, if I hadn’t seen it on your faces, that two-ton rock on your left hand would have been a dead giveaway!” Amanda hugged Jack and Hayley simultaneously. “I’m so happy for you. Things have moved right along since our ill-fated tour, haven’t they? Thwarted kidnapping, among other things. Sheesh! I’m glad those weirdos are finally out of your life. Hard to believe it hasn’t even been two months since we were sitting at the Dairy Dip, ruining your career!”

“Reviving my career,” Hayley corrected, “and I’m forever grateful to you guys. I am so blessed to be able to keep doing what I love, with people I love!”

“Uh-oh, this is starting to sound like a Hallmark moment. Do I need to go for Kleenex?” Jack mused.

Amanda waved a hand in his face. “Oh, hush. Oh, look! There’s C. J.! Y’all go ahead; I’ll catch up in a sec. I’ve got a pie contest to oversee and some frogs to round up. Somebody tipped over the cooler and we’ve got rogue amphibians hopping everywhere!”

As the sun began to set and a cool breeze blew in from the sea, Hayley and the Hot Flashes gathered on the front steps of the Skerry, South Carolina courthouse. C. J. tugged at the taut pink spandex fabric that silently screamed in agony across her pregnant belly. She grunted, adjusting her outfit for the hundredth time. “It’s a good thing my sashaying skills are not as well-known as yours, Amanda, because one false move and this dress is a goner! But don’t I have a fine-lookin’ bosom?” she preened. “Pregnancy does have its assets!”

Meg poked. “Are those real?” she teased.

“They’d better be!” C. J. retorted, swatting away Meg’s finger. “With the price of formula these days, I’m counting on these girls to produce!” She flinched suddenly and grabbed her belly. “Ow! Kicking! Kicking!”

There was a flurry of squeals and flailing hands as Hayley, Amanda, and Meg circled around to feel the source of excitement.

“Gonna be a soccer player!” Amanda predicted. At her words, Hayley suddenly began keening and tears welled in her eyes. “What have you got against soccer?” asked Amanda, a perplexed look on her face.

Hayley tried to smile, but the result was more of a crazed grimace. “It’s not that. I’m just thinking about what a miracle this is—all of it!” She fanned her hands to try and ward off the tears that were welling. “Having y’all back in my life, everybody embarking on new beginnings . . . This is gonna sound so selfish, but right now I have everything I ever wanted!” She shook her head. “Well, no, that’s not completely true. It would have been wonderful to have a child—I’m a little jealous, C. J.,” she said, looking at her friend, “but I don’t see that happening at this point.” Then the tears began to flow in earnest—and not just from Hayley.

“Who needs a child?” Meg announced, attempting to lighten the mood. “You’ve got Jack. Same thing!”

Giggles suddenly replaced the tears as the women regained their composure and began to look around for tissues to dry their eyes and salvage their makeup. “You don’t know the half of it,” Hayley divulged, and told them the tale of Jack’s ‘Happy Place.’

“Hey, there’s Flopsy!” Amanda interrupted suddenly. “Are we ready to serenade, Sisters?”

“Oh, my gosh, are we singing that? “ Meg looked stricken. “We haven’t rehearsed it and I haven’t sung it since our last show!”

Amanda cackled. “You know you know that song like the back of your eyelids.”

“Of course, you do,” agreed C. J., reaching past her belly to give Meg a big hug. “And besides, this might be our last chance to sing it, what with me getting back in the motherhood ring and you starting a new career as an author. It’s wonderful to see you finally get what you deserve—and I mean that in the nicest way!” she giggled. “Pinky is the gentleman you’ve waited for all your life, isn’t he?”

“He absolutely is,” Meg said, “and it was worth the wait!” Her attention moved from C. J.’s face to over her shoulder. “Ooh, they’re motioning for us to come on.”

A few minutes later, Hayley and Jack strode onto the main stage amid a swell of cheers and applause. Slowly, a hush fell over the crowd as the haunting opening strains of “Essence” flowed from Jack’s guitar, and an almost tangible wave of affection for the hometown girl-made-good—and her hero—enveloped the handsome couple. On the ground behind the stage, Graham chewed on a toothpick and watched with a mix of pleasure and pain as, twenty feet away, Amanda pirouetted in front of her family, her silliness endearing and her affection for her loved ones undeniable. She glowed with the magic of the moment, oblivious to the charm she exuded.

“That is one fine woman,” Graham sighed to Bo.

“I’ll give you that, but unless you’re gunnin’ for another smack in the jaw, you…what was it?...‘redneck lothario’?...you best let that one go.”

Graham caught Tom Brooks’ eye and met his gaze. The two men considered each other for several seconds, then nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “And that is one lucky man.” The fiddler turned to face the drummer. “You reckon the ladies in Pigeon Forge will truck with two sorry skunks like us?”

Bo kicked the dirt. “Well, if they won’t, sounds like Pinky’s got plenty of cousins to choose from!” He shook his head. “Can you spell ‘gravy train?’”

Graham shrugged. “Yeah, but ya gotta love a man who takes care of his kinfolk.” He grinned. “I just hope they don’t all look like Pinky! I don’t know if I could face that many bald heads and red ears every day!”

As Jack and Hayley bowed again to thunderous applause, the Hot Flashes and Road Kill joined the couple onstage. Hayley moved up to a microphone and waved at the crowd. “How y’all doin’ out there?” Whoops and cheers echoed and she waited for the noise to die down. “Some of you know that my band had a close encounter of the wrong kind a couple months back, at the beginning of my Retro Rodeo tour. These fine ladies—my best friends—known here in Skerry as The Girls Next Door—”she had to pause here for more cheers, “—rose to the occasion and saved my neck. They left their families and jobs behind for two weeks to give me the most fun I’ve had in years, and I’d like to thank them for their loyalty and support.” She turned and bowed to the Hot Flashes as the crowd erupted into an avalanche of whistles, shouts, and applause. “One of our group can’t be up here tonight,” Hayley continued, “so here’s a shout out to Sue Campbell. We love you, Sweet Sue--and we love you, Louise White!”

The crowd roared as a spotlight scanned the crowd and came to rest on the front row, where Louise and Sue sat on either side of Jackie the nurse. Sue reached for Jackie’s arm and tugged on it. “Maid, make them turn off that light! It’s too bright!”

Louise squinted her eyes. “Are we in a lineup? I refuse to take a polygraph!”

The spotlight swiveled back to Hayley and, as the audience uproar gradually diminished, she took the microphone off its stand and turned to wink at the three Hot Flashes beside her. “We’re gonna do a little song for you right now that we wrote to remind us that it’s not age that matters, it’s attitude!”

A cacophony of catcalls rang out as Bo hollered, “Age only matters if you’re a cheese!” and followed up with a rim shot. Instead of dying out, though, the cheers and whoops grew more and more raucous, until Hayley finally shook her head, shrugged, and yelled, “Play it, boys!”

Tom Brooks poured orange juice into a champagne glass as Amanda breezed into their kitchen. She paused long enough to give him a quick smooch before moving on to the refrigerator to collect another platter of fruit. “If that’s plain O.J., go take it to C.J.”

The affable banker caught another smooch on the rebound as his wife giggled at her unintentional rhyme, then headed back out into the bedlam of gift wrap, bows, and half-eaten brunch food that cluttered the room beyond. C. J.’s baby shower was in full swing as in the den, Tipsy Mack and Millicent Brooks were engrossed in deep conversation with Hayley and Jack, while in the living room, Keith, Alice, Willard, and Pinky listened—with varied facial expressions—as Meg read an excerpt from her hot-off-the-press romance novel. Bo and Graham sat at the dining room table, marveling in turn at the diminutive dimensions of newborn-size disposable diapers, the complexities of a car seat harness, and the disturbing concept of nursing pads.

“I need a refill,” Graham determined, heading toward the kitchen with his glass, but he turned to leave when he saw Tom already there.

“Hold up, pal,” Tom said. “We need to talk.”

“We do?”

“Well, I do. I need to apologize to you for that punch back in Ocala.”

Graham instinctively reached up a hand to rub his jaw. “I guess I can see how it looked from your perspective, and I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you the thought didn’t cross my mind. But Amanda made it clear from the get-go she was a one-man woman.”

Tom stood a little taller. “I know that. But I still think I owe you one.”

“No, really! One was enough!” Graham raised his hands to block his face, and Tom laughed.

“At ease, at ease. You helped me realize I shouldn’t take what I’ve got for granted, though. How ‘bout we declare a truce?” Tom suggested as he extended a hand. “Although, make no mistake, if you ever do more than eyeball my wife, I will kill you,” he added jovially.

“Fair enough,” Graham conceded as he took the proffered hand. “You make sure you take that pretty lady someplace where she can prance around in that pink dress from time to time.”

“That’s a deal,” Tom nodded as he let go of Graham’s right hand to take the glass out of his left. “How ‘bout a refill?” he offered, gesturing toward the punch bowl on the table.

“Absolutely. Hit me!” Graham said, then ducked and chuckled. “No pun intended.”

Tom filled Graham’s glass and his own half full of punch then gave a surreptitious look around before backing away from the table to set the glasses down on a counter. Reaching up, he opened the cabinet above it. “You don’t strike me as a punch man,” he said, taking down a bottle of Bacardi and pouring a healthy dollop into each glass. “Amanda bought this to put on the fruitcakes she’s making for Thanksgiving, but I think it deserves better. To your excellent taste in women, sir,” said Tom as he lifted his now-full glass.

“And to yours,” returned Graham, lifting his own glass to complete the toast. “If she cain’t be mine, I’m glad she’s yours!”

In the living room, Pete Fleming suddenly whistled through his teeth. “Everybody listen up! I need all the male guests to accompany me on a short errand. C. J., don’t look at me in that tone of voice! I promise, we’ll be right back. You ladies keep playing with the baby stuff; there’s plenty of it!” He opened the front door and started herding. “Come on, fellas, let’s go.” Tom slipped the bottle of rum up Graham’s sleeve as the two of them came out of the kitchen and made their way across the room to follow the rest of the men outside.

Comfortably sprawled in a rocking recliner, C. J. beamed at the women surrounding her. “This is so much fun, Amanda. You are amazing, throwing a baby shower the morning after the Pig Pickin’!”

“Pure ego,” Amanda bragged. “Superwoman had to make one last appearance before she permanently hangs up her cape!” She handed the mother-to-be a fresh glass of punch. “I’m just upset we couldn’t find the perfect gift for you: I searched everywhere for a stroller that converts to a wheelchair!”

The women hooted as Hayley waved a hand. “Honey, has it dawned on you that you can put this baby through college on your Social Security benefits? Good timing!” Amid another round of laughter, a familiar voice rang out.

“Yoo-hoo! We’re here!” All heads turned to see Nurse Jackie enter from the kitchen, with Sue and Louise in tow.

“Oh, hey! We didn’t hear you drive up,” C. J. apologized as she lumbered out of her seat to kiss her mother.

“I’m not surprised,” teased Jackie. “Sounds like a party in here!” She ushered Louise to a chair next to C. J.’s recliner and settled her down. “They’re both having a good day,” she whispered to C. J. as the guest of honor maneuvered herself back down into a sitting position. “C.J., your mama has a present for you,” she said as Louise pulled a package out of the tote bag she was carrying.

“Oh, Mama, thank you!” said C. J. as Louise handed her the package. She tore off the wrapping to reveal a satin-covered baby book. “It’s beautiful!” she squeaked, her throat clogged with emotion.

Louise reached out to cup her daughter’s face between both her wrinkled hands. “I want you to write down every moment in this baby’s life, so you won’t ever forget. I’m sorry I never took the time to keep a baby book; memories are as precious as love and friends, and I never expected to lose mine. Write down your memories, sweetheart, so you can remember this baby forever.”

Saltwater flowed like a fountain as the friends exchanged hugs, admired the baby book, and reflected on their respective blessings. Then Hayley blew her nose. “End of the moment, girls; I hear the guys comin’ back in.”

Tom and Graham, their arms around each other’s shoulders, appeared in a window, weaving and waving. “Y’all come out here for a minute!” they bellowed, then bent over in a fit of hilarity.

Amanda was not amused. “Wonderful. Looks like my cowboy and my husband have become drinking buddies.”

“Heavens to Betsy, Amanda! Is that the man Tom was worried about?” asked Millicent Brooks. “You should have punched him for thinking you’d ever waste your time on such a scrawny ol’ picker.” Everyone stared at the woman whose breeding and countenance had, for years, made her the poster child for grace and decorum. “What?” she bristled. “That’s what they’re called, aren’t they? Pickers? Meg’s not the only one who can learn new words.”

Amanda hooted, and threw her arms around her mother-in-law. “Oh, God bless Flopsy!”

“It’s too cold to come out there!” C. J. yelled, shaking her head no and shivering violently to try and get her message across to the other men who were now peering in the windows. “Y’all come inside!”

“Oh, come on, Mommy Whale,” Hayley encouraged, getting up to hoist C. J. from her seat. “Just for a sec. Let’s go see what’s got the boys all riled up.”

The other women smiled knowingly as they rose to crowd in front, forcing C. J. and Hayley to bring up the rear. En masse, they made their way out the door and onto the lawn where, suddenly, the sea of bodies parted to reveal Pete, standing in the driveway next to a fire-engine red mini-van. “Honey, it’s not a convertible, but it has the biggest sunroof I could find.”

“Mom, look!” called Tommy and Diana as they popped up like giraffes through the open sunroof. “Isn’t this cool?”

Pete motioned to the inside. “It has more cupholders than we’ll ever need, and a built-in vacuum cleaner!” He stepped forward to embrace his wife, who was weeping happily as she made her way through the crowd.

Amid the cheers and ripples of laughter, Tipsy rubbed his hands together. “Whew! It’s too cold out here for an old man, folks.” He grasped Millicent by the hand. “Besides, I feel the need to make a toast. Let’s go back inside!”

As Pete and Keith filled glasses all around (save for Tom’s and Graham’s, which Amanda had confiscated), Tipsy stepped up on the raised hearth of the fireplace and began to sway. He winked at Millicent. “Come on up here with me, sugar,” he said, and held out his hand.

He raised his punch glass. “A toast to the finest group of women I have ever been privileged to know. Despite the fact that the Hot Flash Tour went down in flames, I appreciate the fact y’all didn’t totally ruin my reputation. Here’s to new beginnings!”

“New beginnings!” the group repeated as they clinked and sipped.

“And, on that note,” Tipsy continued, “I have an announcement to make. I’ve found a new business partner who’s not only rich and smart, but charming and beautiful.” He turned and put his arm around Millicent, then looked directly at Hayley. “Hayley Gayley, Miz Brooks here wants to bankroll the entire “Essence” CD, all ten tracks. I get the credit, you and Jack get national distribution, and Millie gets sixty percent of the profit!”

The room erupted in applause and cheers. “Say hallelujah!” Jack whooped, scooping Hayley up in a bone-crushing hug.

The members of Road Kill echoed compliantly. “Hallelujah!”

“Let’s hear it for the next ‘it’ couple!” somebody yelled, and both Millicent and Tipsy went pink.

Then Millicent waved a hand. “I don’t know if I would call us the ‘it’ couple, but we’re certainly willing to mix business and pleasure, aren’t we, Tipsy?” she teased, and was left breathless when her silver-haired beau swept her backwards for a dramatic kiss.

From the sofa where he sat on the other side of the room, Tom shook his head in confusion. “I think I’ve had way too much to drink. Did I just hear my mother declare she and that man are an item?”

Graham clapped his former adversary on the back. “Welcome to the family, buddy!”

From another corner, Pinky waved his arms high over his head. “Well, if this is Announcement Central, I’ve got one, too! ‘Pinky’s Palace’ opens December 1^st! It’s gonna be clean, family entertainment, despite the fact that Road Kill will be the house band!” When the hooting and booing ebbed, Pinky continued. “And there’s justice in the world, ‘cause Cal Taylor’s opening for us during ‘Elvis Impersonator Week,’ so y’all come on down! There’s always a free ticket at Will Call with your name on it.”

“And be sure to stop by the gift shop,” Meg added, interrupting the applause, “where you can find the full line of Lola Midnight romances!”

Suddenly Amanda appeared between Tom and Graham. “Y’all are spending waaaay too much time together,” she grumbled. “It’s making me nervous.” She grabbed her husband by the arm and dragged him off the sofa to follow her toward the fireplace. “My turn!” she hollered, motioning Tipsy off the hearth, then climbing up to take his place, “My big announcement is, as of last night, I am an unemployed, but blissfully happy, mother and housewife. I hope y’all enjoyed the Pig Pickin’, ‘cause it was my first and last!” As the gang cheered and whistled, Amanda turned to her mother-in-law and curtsied. “Thank you for all your help, Millicent, but you are now officially off duty and free to run on with your new enterprise or run off with your new boyfriend!”

“Hey! That’s my mother you’re talking about!” Tom protested as the two women embraced to another round of cheers and applause. He turned and came face to face with Graham, who had once again drifted to his side. “My mother can’t have a boyfriend; she’s seventy-five years old!”

“Love knows no boundaries, old boy,” Graham said with a commiserating sigh, “an’ as long as there’s sheep in the pasture, we wolves are gonna howl.”

Tom blinked. “You’re a very profound man, my friend.”

“I am.”

“Excuse me!” Alice surprised everyone by raising her glass and making her way to the hearth. “My turn!” she announced, stepping up and smiling at the assemblage. “I want to thank everyone for your hospitality this fall. It’s been great to be back home. Before I head off on my big jungle adventure, I want to toast my mom and Pinky, who will definitely be the ‘it’ couple of Pigeon Forge. I’m so sorry I won’t be able to make the grand opening.” During the collective, “Awwwwww,” that followed, Keith poked Alice in the ribs and a brief, whispered exchange ensued. “Oh, yes, and the distinguished Dr. Keith Parker will be joining me on this medical mission.”

“What?!” As that word was heard over and over around the room and all heads turned to Keith, he shrugged.

“What can I say? I’m needed.” His eyes found Hayley’s, and the message they sent was conciliatory, a tad rueful and, perhaps, a smidgen defiant. “Everybody else is having a midlife crisis; I figure I deserve one, too. But I’ve got a buddy coming into town to keep y’all—and my practice!—alive and well till I get back.”

And then Jack was on the hearth, pulling Hayley up with him as he went. “Well, I’m sure glad everybody else’s careers are takin’ off, ‘cause mine’s fallin’ apart! Pinky’s stole my band, Tipsy’s sold my bus . . . I figure I better marry my meal ticket before she changes her mind and goes back to bein’ a solo act. Everybody keep Valentine’s Day open—it’s gonna be a heck of a weddin’!” He turned and kissed Hayley full on the mouth, unleashing a flood of catcalls.

“You know there’s gonna be a real nice wedding chapel at Pinky’s Palace,” Pinky offered.

Jack nodded. “Thanks, Pinky; we’ll think about it. I know you’ve always got my back.” Then he looked down at the woman beside him, the woman he’d always loved and almost lost. “You’ve got my back, but Miss Hayley here’s got my heart.”