Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tallula

J esse follows me to Cameron Parish Care Home. After we park, I pop the Lexus's trunk and pull out the painting.

He gapes. "Did my good girl turn bad?"

I waggle my eyebrows because I like how he called me his good girl. Maybe we can have a third-act reunion.

"I'm not going to ask how you got that."

"It's better that you don't."

Marching up the marble steps of the stately old building, I'm armed with an agenda. My father is already in my grandmother's room and stands when we enter, looking slightly alarmed at the police presence until he recognizes it's Jesse, but I'm not sure which is more concerning to him, that he's a Lawson or an officer of the law.

"Hello, ma'am, sir," Jesse says politely, nodding at them in turn .

My father narrows his eyes. "How nice for you to pay us a visit, Tallula."

I kiss my grandmother on the cheek. As ever, I get a warm smile in return. "I arranged this visit. Granny, I apologize for not coming sooner. Father, you were the one who was out of town."

He grunts, jowls shaking.

"But it seems like you've been busy since you've been back." Turning to my grandmother, I say, "I want you to meet someone special." I make introductions all around, emphasizing to my father that Jesse is Deputy Lawson.

"Is this the reformed bad boy? I've been hearing a lot about this young man who's doing right by our town."

"It's mighty nice to meet you, Mrs. Swan." Jesse moves to shake her hand.

She gasps. "Oh my. He's more handsome than you described, Tallula."

My cheeks warm. "Granny, I didn't?—"

She winks. "I know a match when I see one."

We exchange a glance.

Willing my face not to blaze, I say, "Jesse brought you something special, Granny. We were going through some of his old things and it turns out his grandmother painted a portrait of our family for the Swan's Syrups ads contest."

She takes the framed picture. "I remember this one well. Joanne Lawson won a top prize I believe. She was a sweet woman. I recall she passed away not long after this?—"

Jesse nods solemnly. "That's right. "

"My Hubert looks rather dapper, don't you think?"

"Actually, about Grandad. Remember the time your arthritis was bothering you and he looked after me?" I tell the story of when I discovered his gambling.

My grandmother lets out a long sigh. "I'm so sorry, dear. I'd hoped if I acted like there wasn't a problem...well, never mind. there's no sense in telling ourselves anything but the truth. Hubert and Hogan Tickle were best friends and the worst of enemies."

"Frenemies?"

"Gambling buddies. You can be sure I was happy when the Penny Gamble changed hands," Granny says.

"It was a gambling hall?" Jesse asks.

"Not officially. Hubert stopped for a time, then he found new card tables, I suppose. It was a nasty habit. It hurt our marriage—and the business—in more ways than one. I'm sorry, Tallula." She gazes down at her knobby left ring finger.

My throat bobs on a swallow. "That's not all. We have reason to believe that Jesse's father took your ring."

My father launches to his feet. "I knew it. That no good, good for nothing?—"

Jesse stands his ground as I wedge myself between them.

"It is not what you think. Not exactly."

"Granny, Jesse has the ring and would like to return it to you."

"Ma'am, I'd also like to apologize?—"

I hold up my hand. "First, we need to know something." I tell her about Jesse's father being fired and potentially framed.

My grandmother lengthens her spine and lifts her chin.

I prepare for a rebuttal, a defense. For my father to try to attack an officer and get arrested.

Instead, my grandmother says, "Deputy Lawson, I would like to apologize officially on behalf of the Swan family. Until that point, I'd done the bookkeeping for Swan's Syrups. Then, one day, Hubert said he'd hired a professional. Of course, I took offense, but he said it would allow me some time off." She shakes her head. "By then, we had grown kids. For goodness' sake, keeping those numbers gave me something to do, somewhere to go. But he insisted. I stayed involved as much as I could, but Hubert wanted me to retire." She goes quiet for a long moment.

"Do you need some water? Tea?" I ask, wishing I'd visited sooner.

"No, thank you, dear. I'm fine. It's a difficult thing to admit. The new bookkeeper called me one day, concerned about some tallies. Sure enough, there was money missing. To protect my husband, I claimed it was an error." She looks Jesse in the eye. "It wasn't the first time it happened."

Practically turning purple, my father blusters as if trying to protect the deceased.

"It's no use, Orville. Let it be. The truth is always the best course," Granny says. "I reckon Hubert accused Young Lawson to cover his own tracks. For that, I am mighty sorry."

"Speaking of that, Father, did you bribe or somehow convince the head sheriff to transfer Jesse?"

His jowls shake as he tries to deny it. "I don't know what?—"

My grandmother's voice rises. "Orville Nelson Swan, if you?—"

"I'm not sure what's worse, that my father did that or the head sheriff went along with it," I mutter.

"Went along with what?" My mother marches in, concern streaking across her features when she reaches Jesse. "What is going on?"

"Your daughter got involved with the wrong crowd," Father says.

"Are you under arrest?"

"What? No." I quickly recap what happened with Granny filling in the blanks.

My mother shakes her head dramatically. "No, way. I don't believe it. Orville, you wouldn't do something like that, would you?"

"Sandy, it was your idea," my father growls.

My hands fly to my hips. "I've never done anything to rock the boat with you two. I was the perfect student. A good girl and this is what?—"

My mother frowns. "Then you went to Hollywood and who knows what happened."

"I went there because playing a role is the only thing I've ever known how to do with no thanks to you. I thought if I was better than good at everything you two would stop fighting. That we could be a real family."

Jesse places a hand on my shoulder. The warm weight reminds me to take a breath.

"We were a real family," my mother states, affronted.

"Real families don't make their grandchildren wear disposable construction work boot covers when they visit."

She sniffs. "Who knows where their shoes have been."

"Then have them take them off."

"They might have dirty feet," my mother says tartly.

"Mother," I grind out.

Jesse clears his throat as if he's eager to end this drama. He approaches my grandmother. "Mrs. Swan. I'm the one who owes you an apology." He makes amends for what his father did. "And what's more. I have something I think you'd like back." From his pocket, he produces the ring.

My grandmother takes it with her shaky fingers. Catching the light, her eyes sparkle. "Oh, it's as beautiful as I remember and as pretty as your grandmother portrayed in the painting."

"That's supposed to be mine." My mother reaches for it, and then she rounds on Jesse when he shifts it out of reach. "What were you doing with it?"

My grandmother gives my mother a sharp look. "What right do you have to my engagement ring?"

"When we got married, Orville said that when you—never mind," my mother relents .

"Do you mean to say that Orville said that when I croak, you'd get my jewels?' No chance." Granny turns to Jesse and winks. "Actually, I'd like you to keep it."

He holds up his hands as if afraid to touch the ring after seeing the squabble over the bling. Granny insists with a wink. Then the corners of his eyes crinkle with appreciation.

She nods at the both of us. "I think you'll find a good use for it."

Even after a few more protests from my parents, Granny holds firm. They give up and squabble with each other about divorce, as usual.

"You have plum tuckered me out. I need a nap." She settles back into her chair. "Oh, and Orville, if you don't call the head sheriff before the end of the day and fix things, I'll make sure your monthly check doesn't clear." She closes her eyes.

My father coughs, making his jowls tremble. "Yes, ma'am."

After we say goodbye, I look over my shoulder. Granny peeks open one eye and winks again.

When I catch up to everyone, my father and Jesse are having a private word. My mother winds up as if ready to demand I give her the ring, "Tallula, be a good girl and?—"

I interrupt. "That's what you always said. Look where it got me."

"You're home, which means you've gotten rid of your ridiculous dreams of Hollywood grandeur."

Ouch. "You're right. My dreams have changed, but they're just as grand." I glance toward Jesse. "I tried so hard to keep you and Dad together, thinking if I was just good enough...but it was never enough."

My mother looks abased like that's not her problem. But I have to say this even if she's not receptive.

"Do you remember the time we went to the Gaspar's dinner party?"

"Yes, the last time I made the mistake of bringing you children out. Mara made such a scene."

I feel myself shrinking. "I was well-behaved, but when it got late, I fell asleep in the coat room, figuring you'd have to go there before you left. You guys forgot about me. Left me there."

My mother gasps dramatically. "I'd never."

"Then why do I remember Mrs. Gaspar's housekeeper shaking me awake? She gave me a pastry and some tea while I waited for Father to return and pick me up."

My mother's expression is unreadable like she's trying to recall the incident.

"The fact that you don't remember makes my point." I shrug. "Advice some people give is to look in the mirror, but I think you need to look beyond it, outside yourself and at the people around you."

My mother sniffs.

"Peter was the same. I tried hard with him, hoping if I was the good wife, hostess, and actress, our marriage would be perfect." I shake my head. "That's not how it works. In relationships, we have to be ourselves. You should try it. "

My mother's expression turns sour like she just ate a lemon.

"You can start with laughing together." Jesse definitely appreciates my laugh.

After shaking my father's hand, Jesse strides toward us. As if reading my expression, he extends his hand and we continue to the parking lot.

The weather has been seasonable with crisp autumn days and cool nights. The air is fresh and perfect for hand-holding...snuggling too if I'm lucky later. Maybe even kissing if things work out the way I hope. I glance up at Jesse and have a good feeling about our future.

Hopefully, my mother and father pause and remember what's really important—those -ships as Mara said. But it's time for me to let them sort that out instead of thinking their troubles have anything to do with me being a good girl.

Jesse and I pause between our respective vehicles.

Wearing a thoughtful expression, Jesse says, "Thank you for everything. Turns out my father was wrong and right. Maybe there's hope for me."

I take his hands and swing them between us. "I have a lot of hope for you, Jesse Lawson."

I win a smirky little side smile.

"For the record, I wasn't just being a good girl. I was doing the right thing." I toe the ground with my shoe. "I've been afraid of being overlooked. That something would grow between us then you'd forget about me."

He makes a strangled sound, but when I meet his eyes, they're awash with relief. "I was wondering the same thing. But I think we both have our answer now."

His gaze holds mine and in it I see affection.

"The real crime is that we didn't admit our true feelings," I say.

"That you won't settle for likes when you could have love?" he asks.

"As long as you don't let the past own you. You changed your life but have you transformed your heart?"

"I have and it's all yours," Jesse says.

Gripping his shoulders, I lift onto my toes and search his eyes. There, I find depth, meaning, and courage. He sees me...and given the little twinkle when he looks at me, he likes what he sees.

"I was afraid to lose you," I whisper, wanting to leave all my trepidation right here and not lug it around for a moment longer.

The radio on his shoulder crackles. Nancy, from dispatch, tells him he's sticking around. Cheering sounds through the speaker—likely from the other folks at the station.

"Copy that. Over." Jesse lifts his head toward the sky for a beat with relief and gratitude.

"Glad to hear you're staying put."

He smooths a curl from my forehead. "Tallula, with you, I feel like I can breathe again." Jesse's smile reaches his eyes. Mine too.

"Thanks to you, I'm not going anywhere. What about Hollywood?"

"Pfft. As if. When I was a kid, I wanted shiny gold stars for a job well done. Later, I wanted a shiny gold award. Now, I just want a simple life in a small town with my favorite swoony deputy sheriff."

"Sounds perfect to me. So does that mean Hogwash is home?"

"Home is wherever you are."

"I love the sound of that...and I love you, Tallula. You're more than I could've asked for. Could've hoped for."

"Nah. I'm just right. We are. Good, bad, and in the middle. We balance each other in so many ways. I love you, too."

Jesse lowers his head, and I meet his lips. Our kiss is like sunshine after a dreary day. It's like a sweater on a chilly afternoon. Like a warm cup of coffee in my favorite mug. Like the scent of cinnamon. No, it's much better than all of that combined.

His hands gently cup my jaw. My breathing turns shallow. The kiss goes beyond sensation and directly to my heart—my real one and not the digital "likes" icon.

Thanks to my grandmother's ultimatum, Jesse got to keep his job and the head sheriff is undergoing an investigation for bribery. Apparently, Granny dated his daddy before she married Hubert. They sing together in an acapella group called the "Decibelles and the Treble Rebels" at Cameron Parish Care Home. My parents thought their money was the ultimate arbiter. Nope, the truth is...love too. I bring Granny and the other residents beignet buns every week and watch them perform.

For so long, I wanted to escape the small-town life where I thought everyone was a nobody who knew your business, but I prefer it to being lost in a sea of everyone who wants to be somebody. Turns out that it pays to have real relationships in the community.

Speaking of that, as of last week, Jesse and I are official—bad boy and good girl. I mean boyfriend and girlfriend. Despite the little blip with the whole ring thing.

I just finished getting ready for a date with him. From outside comes the rumble of his motorcycle. Through the window, he swings his leg to the ground and takes off his helmet.

He no longer has his bad boy long hair like when we were in high school, but he is wearing his leather jacket. Maybe I'll have to get one too. His gaze lifts to the upper window, and I wave before racing downstairs. I half expect Thelma to scold me for sounding like an elephant, but I don't want to let another moment sneak past away from Jesse.

We're still living at the Pigs in a Blanket, but he's been spending his spare time at the brick house, working on getting it move-in ready. He's been paying his cousin to help—along with serving the community time. No more random unspooled cassette tapes in the gutters on Main Street. In fact, Jesse made me a playlist and called it A Mix Tape for a Princess . It has some hits from high school and some newer songs. He said we should pick one to be ours .

Maybe one we can dance to at our wedding. Wink, wink. I think Granny had a great idea when she had him keep the ring. Just saying.

I think I already have our song in mind. It's a few decades old and reminds me that I could never forget about him...and he'll never forget about me.

I meet Jesse in the driveway because I don't want to wait for him to come to the door. I lace my arms around his neck and kiss him.

"You're happy to see me," he says with his sideways smile.

"Sure am."

"Any particular reason?"

"Hmm. Where to start? Let's see. You have funny stories, are handsome, and I guess because today was a good day."

"Did anything special happen?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Not since you stopped into the Coffee Loft for a tea earlier. But I'm grateful to be here, home, with you." Sometimes it's the simple things.

"Me too." He rubs his nose against mine. "Ready for a ride?"

We hop on the bike and it roars to life. I wrap my arms snugly around him, feeling his muscles flex as if he's hugging me back. Resting my cheek against his leather jacket, I listen for his heartbeat and know that I've come home.

I half expect Jesse to take a different country route, but we wind up back where we started—on our first date and our second chance. He lays out a picnic. Instead of cold-cut sandwiches this time, we have Po' Boys from the Laughing Gator Grille.

As the sun sets, Jesse says, "I brought dessert."

"Ooh. Yum. Starting tomorrow, we'll be offering specialty beignet buns. The pumpkin ones were a hit, and I just perfected the ones with the coffee-flavored glaze."

"Frosting."

I tap him with my fingers.

"But that sounds good. Though I have to admit, I'm a big fan of the original...and the woman who makes them." He pulls out a pastry bag with the Coffee Loft logo on it and passes it to me.

I peek inside. The scent of sugar and cinnamon wafts my way. At the bottom sits a beignet bun. Don't get me wrong, I'm not tired of them, but they're not exactly what I'd call dessert. I keep that to myself.

"Go on, take it out." The bag crinkles and I think he adds the word, Carefully , but I'm not certain. Maybe he was full earlier and didn't get around to eating it. In the fading light, something in the center of the bun sparkles. I get the idea to ask Mara if we can do special sprinkles for the holiday season so the beignet buns look like they're dusted in sparkling snow. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about the Bling Ring anymore.

Jesse scoots closer and takes a deep breath. "Tallula," he says at the same time as I ask, "Jesse?" because this is no ordinary beignet bun .

Right on top, tucked in the middle, is a familiar ring. "Is this?—?"

He nods and plucks it between his fingers. "Tallula," he starts again. "Will you be my real-life wife? No bad boys or good girls, no roles except for these buns." He points at the one in my hand and winks.

My heart bounces in my chest and I wrap my arms around him. "Yes, yes!"

He laughs as we tip backward. Reclined and facing each other on the picnic blanket, our eyes meet. His crease in the corners as he smiles.

Taking my hand, he slides the ring over my finger.

"I love you, Jesse," I say.

"I love you, Tallula."

I cannot wait to truly say I do. But first, I kiss my new fiancé.