so glad to see you. How’s your momma? Is there any change?”
Violet had to blink back a tear at the warmth of the welcome. “Not much change, I’m afraid. The doctors say she’s stable, but…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture, not knowing any more positive way to say it.
“I’m sure sorry about that.” Harriet gripped her arm. “Belle’s a fighter, though. Don’t you forget. She’ll come out of this, you’ll see.”
Violet could only nod, because her throat was too tight for anything else.
“Mind, now.” Harriet shook her finger at Violet. “Don’t you let it get you down, y’hear? We grow strong women in Texas, and your momma is one of the best. I reckon the good Lord knows how much we need her here.”
Not as much as Violet needed her, but that went without saying.
“How have things been going? I’m sorry I haven’t checked in with you more often.”
“Honey, don’t you think a thing about it. You know I can deal with the stand for as long as you need. And the kids are doing fine.”
Harriet had a revolving procession of local teenagers who worked for the stand, carting produce and stocking bins. Harriet always referred to them collectively as “the kids,” but she took an interest in each one. They’d get the rough side of her tongue in a hurry if they didn’t pull their weight, but she was a staunch defender when any of them needed help.
“That’s good.” Violet was already sending an assessing gaze around the interior. It was nothing fancy, that was for sure, with concrete floors and cinder-block walls, the produce stacked on long tables or in bins. It was spotless as ever, but Violet noticed a few empty spaces on the tables. “No sweet corn?”
Harriet’s gaze grew dark. “That Tom Sandy tried to palm off corn that must have been picked two days ago on us. I told him what he could do with his stale corn. Why, the sugar would all be turned to starch in it by then. I’d rather do without than put that out. Our customers expect the best.”
True, but it really would be better if Harriet didn’t antagonize one of their suppliers. That had been a change Violet had implemented, buying from some other growers instead of selling only their own produce. It gave them a wider assortment of stock, but managing those growers was time-consuming, and it was a job only Violet could do.
“I’ll talk to Tom,” she promised. “Is anybody else giving you any problems?”
Harriet shook her head. “We sure could use more tomatoes, though. Folks keep asking, but with the weather, there just aren’t enough to be had.”
The weather was a constant worry. This year they’d had too much rain in the early spring, making it hard to get the plants in, followed by a prolonged hot, dry spell that had turned the soil to stone. The plants were looking better now, though, so they’d have plenty before long, she hoped.
“I’ll make some calls,” she said. “Try and find somebody who has them ripening now.”
“Just do it when you have time.” Harriet patted her arm. “I know it’s rough, running back and forth to Amarillo every day. At least you have Jack to help you.”
Violet managed a noncommittal smile at the reference to her brother. If he had any sense, Jack would get himself back here before folks noticed he was gone.
She was saved the task of responding by the approach of Jeb Miller. Despite Jeb’s youth, he’d won the hearts of most of Grasslands in the five years he’d been pastor at Grasslands Christian Church.
“Violet.” He grasped her hands in both of his. “I’m so glad to see you. I must have missed you when I went to the hospital yesterday.”
“Yes, I…I had some things I had to take care of.” Thankfully, Harriet had retired from earshot, probably thinking to give Violet some private time with her pastor, or she’d have been asking where Violet had been.
“I was sorry to see there was no change.” With his red hair, freckles and youthful grin Jeb might not be the classic image of a minister, but he had a warm voice that matched his warm heart. “I prayed with Belle, and I trust she was able to hear and be comforted.”
“Thanks, Jeb. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
He shrugged, as if to dismiss the need for thanks. “Folks have been wanting to bring food out to the house, but Lupita keeps saying that’s not needed. I hope you know your whole church family stands ready to do anything that will help. The prayer chain is going strong.”
“I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.” It was on the tip of her tongue to confide in Jeb about Maddie, but she restrained herself. That was a conversation better held in the privacy of the reverend’s office.
“Now, I’m sure you haven’t had a minute to think about Teen Scene staffing for this weekend—”
“Oh, my goodness.” She stared at Jeb in consternation. “I’m afraid it went clear out of my mind.”
Surprising, since the Teen Scene program was her baby. An effort to provide Grasslands’ teens with a wholesome alternative for entertainment on Friday and Saturday nights, it made use of the church gym and adjoining lounges for activities. One of her challenges was to keep it staffed with adults she could count on.
“I’m sorry I forgot about it. I’ll get right on it—”
“No need for that.” Jeb grinned, shoving his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “It’s already done. And don’t you think about coming back until life settles down a bit. We’ll muddle along, I promise.”
“I’m so grateful.” There were the tears again, threatening to break loose. “It won’t be long.”
“Well, don’t worry about it.” He glanced over her shoulder toward the racks. “I need to pick up a few things, and then I’d best drop in the office again and catch up on paperwork. I’ll be interviewing people for the secretary’s position tomorrow, and it scares me half to death.”
“You’ll do fine. Anyway, you know what you’d tell anybody else, God has the right person picked out already. You just have to identify her.”
As Jeb grinned and moved away, Violet took another look around. Everything seemed to be going all right, other than the stocking problem. And she could make those calls from home, or in person, when it came to Tom Sandy. Waving to Harriet, she headed toward the door.
Outside, she paused for a moment to adjust her hat to shield her eyes from the sun, whose rays still shimmered from the concrete. She took a step toward her car and stopped.
She must have started to hallucinate. Either that or it really was Landon Derringer, Maddie’s almost-fiancé, walking down Grasslands’ main street, coming straight toward her.
Chapter Four
Violet stiffened, remembering Maddie’s short description of her relationship with Landon. What was Maddie going to think when she realized the determined CEO had followed her here? There surely couldn’t be another reason why a man like Landon was in a place like Grasslands.
“Violet.”
