Page 98 of Sundown Somewhere

“Miss Dolly, did I hear that the menu for the parade breakfast was changing this year?” Auggie asks, righting the ship of conversation.

“I’m not sure who started that rumor, but…no, still the same it’s always been. Scrambled eggs, ham, grits, and biscuits and gravy. I’m not messin’ with tradition. That said, the new Dolly’s menu is in full swing, and there will be some fun specials highlighted for the weekend.”

“I am looking forward to finding a new favorite now that the patty melt has been retired.”

“Auggie, I will always make you a patty melt if that’s what you want. I’ll even make them for Sunday dinner one week if you’d like.”

If I thought my father had lit up before, I stand corrected. Because this time, it’s like the Griswolds’ house when Clark plugs it in.

“Oh, let’s not go makin’ those kinds of promises,” Miss Belle says, appearing out of nowhere. “We don’t want the man to get a big head and think he’s something special, now do we?”

“But I am special, Mama,” Auggie retorts, giving her a wink.

She playfully rolls her eyes, her own smile wide and bright. There’s no denying that these two are still very much in love, even after more than forty years of marriage and seven kids. Watching them is good for the soul.

“Is the chicken ready yet?” she asks, maintaining her Southern belle composure. It’s a poise and grace that only she can manage, but I’m pretty sure that as soon as they are behind closed doors, all bets are off—the thought of which is more than a little TMI. “The ladies are starving. And the table still needs to be set.”

She cuts a look to Milo, Anton, and me, the three of us boys getting the message loud and clear. Yes, ma’am.

“I want to be just like them,” Dolly whispers to me as I stand, taking her with me and then setting her down gently.

I steal another kiss, the thought of having the same staying power as my parents—or even hers for that matter, since they aren’t far behind mine in number of years together—making me happier than I can say.

Something I hope I can show her this coming weekend when I reveal Project: Second Star. From there, it’s straight on to morning.

“We’re on our way. Promise.”

25

DOLLY

In true, over-the-top, Southern fashion, there is a temporary marker for every single lost soldier from Knox County lining the Hickory Hills town square for Memorial Day in the form of a yard sign. Doesn’t matter if they were killed in action, a prisoner of war, missing in action, or some other classification—if they didn’t come home, their name is now on a yard sign.

It also doesn’t matter that somewhere around eighty-five percent of these names were lost during the Civil War, and therefore their names are also carved into the tall, obelisk monument that is elevated by a knee-high grassy wall, sitting smack-dab in the center of the square.

They were lost, so they get a sign. That is what Memorial Day is all about.

Just ask my great-aunt Hattie—she’ll gladly give you the lecture.

“Shit, where are the Sternos? I know we packed them,” I mutter out loud. Not to anyone in particular, but if someone has the answer, I will gratefully accept it.

“Young lady,” Aunt Hattie scolds. “These men did not die for our country so you could mouth off like that.”

Pretty sure that they didn’t fight for our country so you could be first in line for biscuits and gravy either, but here we are…

“I dunno, Mrs. Burch, legend has it those were Llewellyn’s last words in the battle of Atlanta. I give my life so my descendants may cuss…” Hux turns to me, giving me that unmistakable Hayes smirk paired with a wink, my knees going weak from the lethal combination. It takes everything in me not to giggle like a teenybopper meeting her favorite singer. “Sternos are all lit and in the chafing dishes. Nico just put the first round of food out, so you are ready to go, Doll.”

Oh, thank fuck…

Instinctively, I reach for Hux, wrapping my arms around his waist, relaxing into his chest. The hard muscles catch me in a way that only they can, as if there was a space carved out only for me, and I sigh, enjoying the feel of him pressed against me.

My best friend. The man in my life.

“Thank you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing. “Pretty sure that’s my job.”

“Catering is far from your job.” I laugh, keeping my cheek pressed against him, inhaling that scent that is so uniquely him.