Coming Home to Paradise (Sisters in Paradise #3)

Chapter 5

Aunt Bernie sure had an eye for using leftover decorations, Bo thought as she stood in the doorway and took one final look at the place. “We got it done with fifteen minutes to spare, but I couldn’t have done it without you.” She picked up a Santa hat and handed it to him. “This is the last note on the list—we have to wear the hats.”

Maverick shoved it down over his hair and then turned around slowly. “Place looks fantastic. Dave got the better end of that deal.”

Bo put on the matching hat and was glad that her aunt hadn’t made them wear jingle bell necklaces. “I’m not telling Bernie you said that. She thinks she pulled the wool over his eyes.”

A hard knock on the front door was followed by a woman’s loud voice. “Hey, are y’all open yet?”

“Looks like we’ve got an early bird,” Maverick said.

Bo crossed the entry way. “Nope, that would be my twin sister, Rae.” She slung the door open and gasped at a full parking lot.

“I’m not a stranger, and I realize the wind blew my hair a bit, but do I really look that bad?” Rae asked.

Bo grabbed her sister by the arm, pulled her inside, and quickly locked the door. “No, you look great, especially if you’ve come to help. I thought you were going to be busy with the Sunday school lesson for tomorrow.”

Maverick took a couple of steps forward and extended his hand. “I’m Maverick Gibson, and Bo was right. You don’t look anything alike.”

“Nope, we don’t,” Rae shook with him and then dropped his hand. “We were Mama’s trial run. She got the identical thing right on the next set of twin girls. Pleased to meet you, and, Bo, I’ll take care of the Sunday school thing later. What can I do to help?”

“You’re a day late and a dollar short, as Aunt Bernie says,” Bo grumbled.

“I’m here now.” Rae removed her coat to reveal a sweater the color of her blue eyes and skinny jeans that hugged every one of her curves. She sat down at the table near the door, pulled a brush from her purse, and straightened up her long dark hair. “Put me to work.”

“You want to play hostess or sit right where you are and check tickets?” Bo asked.

“I’ll check tickets and then mingle with the guests,” Rae said. “You are better with a microphone in your hands or else singing to the crowd. Will there be dancing?”

“Maybe,” Maverick answered and headed across the foyer toward the door. “I’ve got orders to keep the jukebox going. I’ll let in the herd in two minutes. Y’all ready?”

“Give me just a split second to go to the restroom and…” Rae stood up and then stopped at the archway into the bar. “This looks amazing, and so do you, Sister. You always did look good in green velvet. I love the little lit-up Christmas trees in the middle of the tables. I remember when Mama used those for the Paradise party when we were teenagers.” She glanced over at Maverick, fanned her face with her hand, and mouthed a single word. “ Wow! ”

Bo shook her head. “ No way ,” she mouthed back.

“I borrowed the dress from Ophelia,” Bo said, “and thank you. You don’t look so shabby yourself, but we could have used your help all afternoon.”

“Ain’t my job.” Rae waved and did a fast walk across the room.

Maverick waited to open the door until Rae was back and seated. Bo took a few more pictures of the room to send to Bernie, then took her place on the stage in front of the microphone. When the room was full, she said, “Welcome to our first ever meet-and-greet event. I am Bo Simmons. My sister Rae gave you your name tags when you came inside. If anyone doesn’t have a name tag, please go back out and tell Rae. You ladies all look beautiful, and you guys are really handsome. Y’all mingle and get to know each other,” Bo said. “Maverick Gibson is behind the bar. Beer is free tonight. We take cash or credit cards for anything else.” Bo stepped off the stage and headed through the crowd toward the bar.

Rae met her halfway across the room and looped her arm into Bo’s. “Aunt Bernie didn’t tell us how sexy Maverick was, did she?”

“I’m not sure she ever saw him,” Bo said. “I believe she only met with Dave O’Connell, the man who owns the place. Maverick is the manager and bartender. ”

“Honey, we don’t have to buy the candy store to try all the samples that they’re giving away for free,” Rae said with a chuckle.

“I just felt a chill,” Bo smiled.

Rae removed her arm and sat down on a barstool. “Why’s that?”

“Aunt Bernie’s spirit just swept through the room and heard what you said,” Bo whispered.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Rae said.

“Well, hello, darlin’,” an older man with silver hair and a cute little mustache said and turned his charm on both Rae and Bo. “Neither of you look like you are sixty or older.”

“Thank you,” Bo said. “That’s so sweet of you. But we are the two women, along with Maverick, who are managing this event.”

“And he could sure use some help,” Maverick said from the other end of the bar.

Bo nudged Rae. “You go start pushing buttons on the jukebox and remember how old this crowd is. I’ll draw up beers.”

“I guess you did see him first,” Rae grinned. “But honey, this bunch of people wasn’t raised on Waylon and Willie. I’ll try Blake Shelton, Alan Jackson, and Travis Tritt.”

Bo shot her a dose of stink eye and then made her way behind the bar. She removed an apron from a hook on the wall and slipped it around her waist.

Rae just giggled and slid off the stool. In minutes, Waylon Jennings’s voice filled the room with “I’m a Ramblin’ Man.” Bo jerked her head around in time to see Rae give her a long wink.

“That’s my theme song.” Maverick chuckled as he set four red Solo cups of beer on the bar and watched them disappear. “The lyrics warn a woman not to give her heart to a rambling man. Would you throw caution to the wind and ignore that?”

“Probably not,” Bo answered. “I might think about a rambling man, but down deep, I would know that I was better off without him when he was gone,” Bo said.

“If you thought about me, would it be with a smile?” Maverick asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Hun…nee.” She dragged out the word and batted her long lashes at him. “I’ve been told to lock up my heart and throw away the keys where you are concerned,” Bo told him. “But then what if there’s a woman in this area who isn’t afraid to stand close to the flame?”

One side of Maverick’s mouth turned up in a grin. “I’d like to meet such a woman.”

“Ramblin’ Man” ended and Linda Ronstadt’s “Blue Bayou” started. A few men must’ve gotten enough liquid courage by then to ask women to dance because the floor in front of the stage filled up pretty quick.

Bo worked her way down the bar until she came to the place where Rae was still sitting. “I would have never thought there were this many single men and women in the area. I figured you’d be out there mingling with the folks who are sitting at tables,” Bo told her. “And from the information that each person gave when they bought their tickets, they came from as far north as Duncan, Oklahoma, and as far south as Rainbow, Texas.”

“Are you serious? Is there really a town named Rainbow?” Rae asked.

“Yep, and just to be sure, I looked it up, and it’s down around Granbury,” Bo answered. “Now, what are you doing sitting at the bar when you should be out there talking to people?”

“I was, and I learned something valuable. They like the songs that are playing on the jukebox, but they want something with some spirit to it, and they wouldn’t mind listening to the newer country music. One lady with kinky blue hair…”—she raised a palm—“I swear I’m not kidding”—she lowered her hand—“said that she wanted to hear some Chris Stapleton or Morgan Wallen. According to her and the three women at her table, over sixty doesn’t mean over sex. Made me think of Aunt Bernie’s lacy teddy, and if she will get to wear it.”

“Maybe rather than peanuts and candy canes, we should have little blue pills in the bowls on the bar,” Bo said.

“Bo!” Rae scolded, but she couldn’t keep the giggle at bay.

Her sister held up two fingers. “If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’, and my feet ain’t left the ground.”

“That sounded just like Aunt Bernie,” Rae said.

“Yep, it did,” Bo nodded.

Rae finished the last of her beer and slid off the stool. “I’m off to give the folks some different music. The song playing now is the last one that I punched into the machine.”

As soon as her sister vacated the barstool, a lady with big hair, lots of bling, and a T-shirt that fit like a glove, claimed it. “Dawlin’, I would like a double shot of Jim Beam on the rocks.”

Bo glanced down at the name tag plastered just three inches to the left of the woman’s cleavage. “I will get right on that, Miz Dixie.” She poured two shots of whiskey into one of the red plastic cups and added a couple of ice cubes. She set it on the bar in front of the lady, took her money, and made change.

“Fancy glasses you got here,” Dixie said.

Bo agreed with a nod. “Red for Christmas.”

“And for the cute little teddy I’ve got ready if I get lucky tonight.” Dixie winked and carried her drink back to a table where the gray-haired guy who had hit on Rae was sitting.

“Good luck, Miz Dixie,” Bo whispered, and made a mental note to tell Aunt Bernie that she wasn’t the only one who had a teddy and hopes of wearing it to entice a fellow.

Fiddle music filled the room, and the folks sitting at the tables headed for the dance floor to do the twist to Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Down on Twist and Shout.”

“Well, that sure livened them up. I guess sixty and above isn’t so old after all,” Maverick said.

Bo wiped sweat from her brow with the tail of her apron. “Gives us a little breather.”

Maverick agreed with a nod. “Yep, but after a couple or three songs like that they’ll be thirsty, and we’ll have a rush.”

Bo took a longneck bottle of beer from the cooler, twisted the top off, and took a long swig. “Or else some of them like Dixie will talk someone like Hank into leaving this place and going to her room or apartment. How do you keep up when it’s just you working the bar?”

Maverick drew up a beer in one of the cups. “It’s not usually this busy. Are you aware that when the party is over, if half of these people stick around, the fine print on the contract that you and your aunt signed says you have to stay and help me until closing?”

She almost choked on the mouthful of beer she’d just taken. “You’re sh…kiddin’ me, right?”

He reached under the counter and brought out a folder. “Got it right here.”

“Aunt Bernie didn’t tell me anything about that,” Bo said.

Maverick shrugged and turned up his cup. “Guess she wasn’t expecting a crowd like this.”

“Okay, then, if half of them stay, I guess I’ll be here until closing,” she said with a sigh. “At least, they’ll be paying for drinks then and things might slow down.”

“Maybe,” Maverick nodded.

Luke Bryan’s “One Margarita” started playing, and several other women joined Dixie on the dance floor. Bo was less than half their age, and there was no way she could move like they did.

“What are you thinking?” Maverick asked.

“Why do you ask?” Bo fired back.

“You were shaking your head, and your eyes had the deer-in-the-headlights look,” Maverick answered.

“Honestly, I was wondering how they could move like that at their age,” she answered.

“Determination,” Maverick said.

“For what?”

“Love, companionship, feeling young again—any or all of the above. Some of them are single by lifestyle choice. Some have lost a loved one and crave companionship. But most”—he smiled—“are just feeling good and having as much fun as they can while they can.”

“How’d you get to be so smart?” Bo asked.

“I’ve had lots of different jobs and plenty of time to study people,” Maverick answered. “Wait for it. Wait for it.”

“What?” Bo looked around the whole room.

“Here it comes,” Maverick grinned. “Song is ending. There’s been two fast dances in a row, and now they’ll be lining up for more free beers.”

Chris Stapleton’s slow song “Tennessee Whiskey” filled the room, and Rae claimed the barstool at the end of the row. Bo set a beer in front of her.

“Every third song is slow,” Rae explained. “I figured they could strut their stuff for a couple, and then two-step or waltz to one. That way the poor guys might not use up all their energy and need a fistful of those pills you were talking about earlier.”

“Good idea,” Bo agreed, and then went back to helping Maverick set cups on the bar. For a few minutes, Dixie was the only one on the dance floor, and then the gray-haired man brought her a beer. She took a long drink, then wrapped her free arm around his neck and snuggled in close.

“With all that she’s got going on, that guy might be primed and ready when the party is over,” Bo whispered to her sister.

“Honey, I would bet dollars to cow patties that a lot of those men are carrying little blue pills,” Rae said with a laugh. “They’ve only got an hour left to figure out who’s getting lucky and who’s going home alone. I wonder how many long-term matches will come out of this event.”

“Count the couples that leave,” Bo said and then went back to helping Maverick set filled cups on the bar for the folks to grab.

For the next hour the pattern was set: two fast songs, and a slow one. Five minutes before nine, “I Always Get Lucky with You” by George Jones played on the jukebox.

“Smart idea,” Bo told Rae when the song started. “Do you think any of the folks have found someone to get lucky with tonight?”

“Maybe, but even if they all go home alone, it looks like they’ve had a good time,” Rae answered and nodded toward the clock. “It’s been fun. It’s been real, but now I’m going home. See you there, Bo. Drive safe.”

“You too,” Bo said with a nod, and hoped that the whole crowd would leave. Her feet hurt after working two hours in high-heeled shoes. She wanted to go home, too, take a long hot bath and go to sleep.

If they didn’t, she would definitely trade in her fancy dress and high heels for the jeans, T-shirt, and running shoes she had worn that morning to the parade. She removed her apron, went to the stage, and turned on the microphone.

“We hope all y’all had a good time. The event is now closed, but all are welcome to stay as long as you like. Just a reminder that beer and music is no longer free,” she said.

That got a few laughs, and then Dixie raised her red cup. “Let’s hear a big yee-haw for the folks that put on this event. Make it loud enough that they’ll consider doing another one soon. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to close down this bar tonight. So, one, two, three.” She led the whole crowd in a yee-haw that came close to raising the roof.

“Thank you,” Bo breathed into the microphone, and then heard piano music behind her. She recognized the song as “The Party’s Over.” She looked over her shoulder to see Maverick playing.

“Seems appropriate,” he said. “But I need a singer.”

Maverick started the introduction all over again, and she came in at the right time with the lyrics. The folks raised their lighted cell phones and waved them in the air. Bo looked out over the crowd and enjoyed the moment. For the next three minutes, she was onstage, living her dream—even if it was in Nocona, Texas, and not Nashville, Tennessee.

She had no regrets about turning out the lights and leaving the party when she moved from Nashville. But she had not realized how much she would miss the excitement of having a microphone in her hand—even with just a piano behind her and not a whole band.

Bo took a bow when the song ended, and the crowd exploded with a round of applause and whistles. Couples began to leave, some walking beside each other, and some holding hands like teenagers. If Aunt Bernie had been there, she would have been walking on air and declaring that she wasn’t just good at advice; she was a true matchmaker.

Maverick left the piano. Bo turned off the microphone and put it back on the stand. The two of them headed back to the bar where folks had already lined up and were waiting to get drinks.

“You really are good,” he said.

“So are you,” she told him. “Where did you learn to play a honky-tonk piano?”

“Just something I picked up,” he answered with half a shrug. “It looks to me like less than half the crowd left, and a few more are drifting in. Can you manage things for me to take a five-minute bathroom break?”

“When you are finished, I’m taking a few to go change into more comfortable clothes and shoes. If I’ve got to work until closing, I’m not doing it in high heels,” she said.

“Sounds good to me, but darlin’, the outfit you’ve got on might draw more customers to the bar.”

She gave him her best dose of stink eye, and he laughed out loud. He didn’t go out into the foyer where the bathrooms were located but went through the door to the storage room.

She knew what to charge for shots of Jim Beam, but she had no idea how much mugs or bottles of beer went for. Thank goodness, he returned before his five minutes were up and got busy filling orders, taking money, and making change.

“Go get a break before things get to really hopping,” he told her as he stacked empty plastic cups together and tossed them in the trash.

“Be back as soon as I can,” Bo told him.

She grabbed her tote bag from under the bar and raced off to the bathroom, only to find a long line of women waiting.

Dixie waved at her from the front of the line. “Hey, that was some party. Just flat out gave me the Christmas spirit and made me feel like I’d shed twenty years. The only thing missing was Santa Claus. I would have liked to sit on his lap and tell him I wanted to find my next true love.” She shot a dramatic wink across the distance.

Bo removed her Santa hat and handed it to Dixie. “Wear this. Maybe it will make your Santa wish come true, even if he’s not here.”

Dixie pulled the hat down over her big hair and smiled. “Can I keep it to remember this night by?”

“It’s yours,” Bo said.

“I wanted to come, but I didn’t hear about it until today and it was too late,” the woman behind her said.

Dixie shook a finger at her. “You are married, Ilene!”

“Would you come if we have a couples’ event in the near future?” Bo asked. “It might be a fall-in-love-all-over-again event.”

“I’ll be there,” the woman said. “And Dixie, darlin’, you will have to get married to be able to attend.”

“Never underestimate me,” Dixie snapped and then turned back to Bo. “Honey, you come on up here and cut in line in front of me. Looks like you are here to change clothes. I hope you’ve got some comfortable shoes in that bag. I don’t know how you worked for two hours in high heels.”

“My feet are hurting,” Bo admitted. “But…”

Dixie shook her head. “No but s to it. If any of these gals have a problem, I’ll take care of it. Consider it payment for the evening and the lucky hat. You just scoot right on in there and change so you can help your handsome bartender until closing.”

He is a handsome bartender, but he’s not mine, Bo thought.

She changed as fast as she could and found the line outside to be even longer when she opened the door. “Thank all of you for letting me cut in line,” she said.

“No problem, darlin’,” Dixie said with a smile.

“Y’all enjoy the rest of the night,” Bo said and then made her way back to the bar.

“Looks like the rest of the night could be busier than we were during the event,” she said as she tied her apron around her waist.

“Yep,” Maverick agreed as he shook a cocktail container and poured the contents into a stemmed glass. “Would you please gather up all the dirty red plastic cups from the tables?”

Bo had worked as a barmaid and as a waitress at different times during the past ten years, so she was no stranger to cleaning tables or taking care of empty bottles and glasses. She picked up a tray and two wet bar rags and headed for the back corner where several cups were lined up on a table.

An older man wearing coveralls and work boots sat down at the table. “Looks like y’all had quite the party. If you have another one, I might buy a ticket.”

Bo gathered up more than a dozen cups and then wiped down the table before moving on. “I’m sure we’ll schedule another one sometime. Just keep a watch out for flyers.”

“Don’t have it on Saturday night,” the guy said. “I work the two-to-ten shift then. By the way, I’m Harold Anderson. You are one of Bernie’s nieces, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Bo answered and introduced herself.

“I used to live up around Ratliff City. She talked about all y’all a lot,” Harold said with a chuckle. “Bernie ran a tight ship, but I sure loved her bar. Tell her that I said hello next time you see her.”

“I sure will, and it’s nice to meet you,” Bo said.

“Back at you, kiddo,” Harold said with a big smile.

Three trips to the trash can later, the tables had been cleared of all the leftovers from the event and were being covered with beer mugs and highball, shot, and wineglasses.

“Thank you for the first cleanup round,” Maverick said.

Bo dropped the bar rags into the bin and loaded what glassware she had collected into the dishwasher. “You are welcome. Do you have plenty of mugs left or should I start this?”

“Wait until it’s full.” Maverick set two beers on the bar for a couple of cowboys.

When he laid their change on the table, one of them tossed it into the tip jar.

“Thank you.” Maverick nodded and went on to the next customer. “Hey, Bo, why don’t you read what’s in the folder with the contract before you do anything else?”

“Why would I do that?” Bo asked. “If Aunt Bernie signed an agreement, I will honor it.”

“Just read it,” Maverick said. “Dave would fire me if I was dishonest.”

Bo wiped down the end of the long bar before she picked up the folder and opened it. “You rat! This is not a contract. It’s a liquor and beer order form.”

Maverick pointed his forefinger at her. “Gotcha! But thanks for cleaning up before you go. And darlin’, if you ever need a job, there’s one waiting right here at Whiskey Bent.”

“That was a mean trick, and I’ve got a full-time job,” she snapped at him.

“If you’ll stay a couple of hours until the crowd thins out, you can have whatever is in the tip jar,” he said.

She leaned back to get a better view of the quart jar at the other end of the bar. She could see at least two five-dollar bills and lots of ones. “Deal, but only until midnight. I’ve got to be in church tomorrow morning.”

“Are you the sister that is dating the preacher?” Maverick asked.

Bo shook her head. “Nope. That would be Endora, my younger sister. I play the piano and help with the musical part of the Christmas program.”

“Well, honey, anytime you want to play and sing for this bar, the stage is yours for as long as you want,” Maverick told her.

“I appreciate that, but the answer is no, thanks,” Bo said. “I devoted enough of my time to ‘the dream.’” She air quoted the last two words.

“My offer of a job here or even an occasional gig has no expiration date,” Maverick said as he drew up a couple of beers.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Bo said and picked up a tray. “Looks like I need to make the rounds for orders and pick up another load of dirty dishes.”

“How many bars have you worked in?” Maverick asked.

“Too many to count,” she answered.

***

Rae weaved her way through the ladies’ room waiting line, zipped up her coat, and left the noisy bar behind. Black clouds covered the southern half of the sky, most likely bringing in more cold wind and possibly rain or sleet. But right over her head, she caught sight of a falling star as it streaked from the heavens toward earth. She closed her eyes, made a wish, and headed for her truck. A noise off to her left made her stop before she unlocked her vehicle. A couple was standing beside a brand-new bright-red sports car. Their coats covered up their name tags, but Rae was sure she had seen both of them at the party. Aunt Bernie would be so tickled to know that her event had netted at least one match.

She was wide-awake when she unlocked her truck door and slid in under the steering wheel. Her internal clock was still set from working night shifts for the past several years, and this was the time that she was usually getting ready to go to work. A little bit of guilt washed over her when she thought of leaving her twin behind to work until the bar closed down. Bo was probably ready for bed and sleep.

“But not guilty enough to stick around and help,” she mumbled.

Before she could put the truck in reverse, her phone rang, and Bernie’s face popped up.

“Speak of the devil.” Rae chuckled and hit the accept button for FaceTime. “Hello. Are y’all getting excited to get onboard tomorrow morning?”

“We’re giddy as teenagers getting ready for their first dates,” Bernie answered. “I called Bo several times, but it went right to voicemail. Do you know how the event went?”

“Yep,” Rae answered. “I decided to come help out for a couple of hours, and the place was packed. Over ninety folks showed up. That’s pretty good since you capped the ticket sales at a hundred.”

Bernie smiled, but her eyes looked tired. “That was sweet of you. Did you girls follow the directions I left for decorating?”

“I didn’t help with that,” Rae said, “but they were great. I took a bunch of pictures. I’ll send them to your phone soon as I get home. I helped scan the tickets. That way you’ll be able to see who actually showed up. And I kept the jukebox going.”

“Is Bo with you?” Bernie asked.

Rae set the phone on the dashboard stand and turned it so her aunt could see her. “No, she’s not. According to the contract you signed, she has to stay and help Maverick until closing.”

“That is a bunch of bullshit!” Bernie’s face went from smiling to anger in a fraction of a second. “I liked that guy. Why would he lie to Bo like that? You go right back in there and tell her that she doesn’t have to work one minute past nine o’clock.” Her voice got higher with each word, and her face more pinched. “I paid extra money for cleanup, and nobody takes advantage of me. I’ll have a come-to-Jesus talk with Dave over this when I get home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rae said with a nod.

“Hanging up now, and when you get back to your truck, you call me,” Bernie said. “And hurry up!”

The screen went dark. Rae drew in a long breath and let it out in a whoosh. She got out of the truck, noticed that the couple had progressed beyond talking and were now making out like a couple of teenagers.

“It’s cold out here. Go find a room somewhere,” she whispered.

The song that was playing on the jukebox had brought the line dancers out in force, so she had to practically plaster herself to the wall to get back to where Bo was wiping down a table.

Her sister looked up and cocked her head to one side. “Hey, what are you doing back in here?” Bo yelled over the loud music.

“You need to call Aunt Bernie. She said to tell you that she did not sign a contract that said you had to stay and work until closing time, and believe me, she’s fightin’ mad right now,” Rae told her.

“I’m staying until midnight, and getting paid for it,” Bo yelled just as the song ended.

A couple of guys turned around and gave Maverick the thumbs-up.

“Getting paid to do what?” Rae teased.

“Waitress, bartend, the normal stuff,” Bo snapped.

“Just call Bernie before she has a cardiac arrest and doesn’t even go on her cruise. If she even survived the heart attack, we would never hear the end of it. And if she didn’t, she would haunt us,” Rae said and turned to walk away.

“Amen to that,” Bo agreed. “Now, you need to go home and get ready to teach a Sunday school class in the morning.”

Rae groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Bo removed her phone from her hip pocket, turned it on, and waved at her sister. Rae glanced over her shoulder a couple of times to make sure that Bo had called their aunt. She sure didn’t want to have to deal with her on her drive from Nocona back to Spanish Fort. When Bernie got on a high horse, she couldn’t be budged with a block of C-4.

Rae got into the truck for a second time and was relieved that her phone didn’t ring. She drove out of the parking lot and turned right. Christmas lights twinkled in a few houses on the way into the town, where lights were strung from one side of Main Street to the other. Several stores had decorations in their windows and holiday wreaths hanging on the doors.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” Rae sang off-key and out of tune. She had always been jealous of her sister’s ability to play any instrument she picked up and sing like an angel. But she did love to listen to music, and chills ran down her spine when Bo made the fiddle whine in true Charlie Daniels style.

In another week, the town would have their ceremonies to celebrate the holiday—a parade with floats and area high school bands, the lighting of the huge Christmas tree, and all kinds of fun in the park. When she and all her sisters were young, they had looked forward to the event. Rae liked the face-painting booth and always loved the funnel cakes. Bo and the younger twins couldn’t wait for their turn to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what they wanted to find under the tree on Christmas morning.

Rae was driving through the middle of town when she heard a pop, and her truck began to pull to the right. “Dammit!” she swore and brought the vehicle to a stop on the side of the street. That’s when she noticed a low-tire signal flashing on the dashboard. She slapped the steering wheel. “A flat tire is not what I need at this time of night. And to top it all off, it looks like it could rain cats and dogs and baby elephants any minute now.”

She slung the door open, put her feet on the ground, and stomped around to the back of the truck to get out the spare and jack. She inhaled deeply, and sure enough, she could practically smell the rain on the way. She had just made it to the tailgate when lightning zigzagged through the air and thunder rumbled.

“Less than ten seconds. Daddy would say that means the storm is less than ten miles away and moving fast,” Rae muttered and then saw the familiar lights of a police car pulling in behind her.

“Hey, is that you, Rae?” Gunner Watson yelled as he got out of the Nocona Police Department truck.

“It’s me, all right, and I’ve got a flat tire,” she answered.

“You just stand back and watch this pro at work,” Gunner said. “We’ve got a helluva storm coming in from the southwest, so I’ll hurry.”

“Hey, now!” Rae protested and flipped the hood of her coat up over her hair. “I appreciate your help, and I may not be a pro, but I’ve changed my fair share of tires.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit”—Gunner chuckled—“but I don’t want my girls’ Sunday school teacher to get wet. You might get sick, and Aunt Rosie has plans for tomorrow that do not include watching the twins after church services. That means you have to stay healthy to teach them, and I have to be able to take care of them tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then thank you, and I’ll do my best to be there for…” She tried to remember their names.

“Heather and Daisy.” Gunner jacked the truck up. “They are so much alike that everyone has trouble telling them apart. Most folks just call them the Watson twins.”

“Heather has a freckle in front of her left ear,” Rae told him.

“You are very observant.” Gunner chuckled again as he removed the flat tire and tossed it in the back of her truck. “Looks like you ran over a nail. It can probably be fixed, so you won’t have to buy a new one. Now, let’s get the spare on.”

“Thank you, again.” Her words came out a little breathless, but holy smoke, Gunner had hefted the old tire like it was nothing more than a package of marshmallows. She would bet that a ripped abdomen and thick biceps were hiding under that uniform shirt.

Gunner set the new tire into place, tightened the lug bolts, and removed the jack. “No problem. My one prisoner tonight has been in so many jail cells that they probably all look alike to him.” He held out his hand. “Just in time. There’s the first raindrop. See you around, Miz Rae.”

She waved another thank-you and got into her truck seconds before the downpour. The police vehicle behind her pulled slowly out onto the street, and Gunner flashed the lights once to let her know he was gone. For a moment, she missed making the rounds in her police car up in the Oklahoma Panhandle, the camaraderie between her and her partner who retired the week before Rae left, and the independence she had.

Visibility was only two center yellow lines in front of her. Water ran over the roads so fast that using cruise control wasn’t even an option. The twenty-minute trip to the Paradise took twice that long. When she turned down the lane to go to the house, the hard rain seemed to put a halo around every single twinkling light in the trees and on the top of the fence. She started to stop and take a picture, but a mere photograph wouldn’t do justice to the sight.

Rae’s phone rang, and she removed it from the holder and checked the time. 11:55. “Hello, Bo. Are you on the way home?”

“Yep, we lost electricity about ten minutes ago and had to close up the bar early, but I still got a jar full of tips for payment. I consider the power outage an act of God. Therefore, I do not have to prorate my two hours and give back part of the tips,” she answered.

“I’m home but the rain is coming down so hard the ground can’t soak it up, so the roads are slicker than…”

“Vaseline on a toilet seat?” Bo giggled.

“I wasn’t thinking along that line, but yes,” Rae answered. “Drive slow and don’t use the cruise control.”

“Yes, Sister Policeman,” Bo said. “I’m coming through Nocona now. The Christmas lights look weird through the rain. I’m jealous that you are home, dry and in your room already.”

“Woman, you haven’t got any reason to be envious. I had a flat tire on the way home, and I’m sitting outside the house hoping this deluge lets up so I can make a mad dash between raindrops without getting too wet.” Rae shivered at the thought of the bitter cold rain soaking her to the bone. “I may still be in my truck when you get here.”

“Thank goodness Daddy taught us girls how to change a tire, check the oil, and pay attention to the gas gauge,” Bo said. “I think I just ran a red light. I thought it was a Christmas decoration.”

“Is there a cop car behind you?” Rae asked. “Maybe he’ll let you off with a warning if you explain…”

“Stop worrying,” Bo said. “No flashing lights in my rearview, and I’m driving so slow that a snail could pass me. I can’t see but one yellow line in the center of the road.”

Another shiver ran from Rae’s backbone down to her toes in spite of the fact she was sitting in a warm truck. “You stay on the phone with me until you get home. I’m worried about you. It is sitting on the dash, and you are not driving with one hand, are you?”

“I told you how fast I’m going, but I will keep talking until I get home. Besides, I’m not the one who slipped and slid all over the road last Christmas.” Bo reminded her sister of what had happened the last holiday season when all seven girls went shopping.

“I got us to Wichita Falls, and all in one piece, didn’t I?” Rae shot back. “But that was scary. Rain and slick roads can be just as dangerous as ice and snow. I’ll feel better when you are home.”

“Me too,” Bo said.

“You must have talked to Aunt Bernie because she didn’t call me back,” Rae said.

“Yes, I did, and she was pleased with the outcome, but angry that Maverick pulled that trick on me. I told her that I considered him a good man since he owned up to the joke,” Bo answered. “I just turned onto Highway one-oh-three, and the rain is coming down even harder. The weather report says it’s not going to let up for another three hours. You and I should’ve gotten a hotel room in Nocona and driven home in the morning.”

Rae turned off the engine and zipped up her jacket. “It’s too late for should have now, and besides, I bet every room in town is filled with folks from the event tonight.”

Bo giggled with her sister. “Aunt Bernie told me that she wasn’t going to book another event at the bar because she didn’t want me falling for Maverick.”

“Think you could?” Rae asked.

“He probably makes a lot of women have trouble keeping their underwear from falling down around their ankles,” Bo answered. “But I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Rae scolded. “I could feel the sparks dancing all around the bar.”

“Don’t tell Aunt Bernie that, or she’ll have a conniption. I’m passing the winery, so it won’t be long until I’m home. I’m wrong. That wasn’t the turnoff to the winery. I’m seeing the lights at Remy and Ursula’s place. And now I’m turning down the lane to the Paradise.”

Rae breathed a sigh of relief and then noticed the lights of a vehicle coming down the lane. “You are home. We’re safe.”

“Yep, but it looks like we’re both going to be drenched by the time we get into the house,” Bo told her.

“Better wet than in a ditch,” Rae said. “I’m going to make a mad dash for the house, and we can talk more about the event tomorrow after church. I’m so tense that I just want some warm pajamas and a bed.”

“See you there.”