“She drove all the way to Texarkana? That’s seven hours from here.”

Jean tried to catch Willa off guard with a forehand to the left back corner of the virtual court. Willa stretched to return it.

“As I said, she was determined,” Willa replied, energized to have made the shot.

Jean was getting frustrated. She was glad that their games had become more competitive, but she was accustomed to winning more easily.

“And she went by herself?” she asked.

Which was the polite way of asking whether Bo went with her; whether they were spending the night together someplace in a strange town.

“Yes. By herself,” Willa replied with her lips pursed.

Willa was still in disbelief that her granddaughter had ever taken up with Bo. Though by the time Jiminy confirmed the relationship, late at night after the Roy Tomlins run-in, the two were freshly broken up.

“Bo doesn’t think we should see each other anymore,” Jiminy had said.

In a detached tone, she’d relayed the story of the encounter with Roy and Randy, and of the strange, sad way it had impacted Bo. He had sat in silence during the slow drive back to Willa’s farm. He parked the truck and climbed out and stood in the darkness on the gravel driveway, staring up at the sky. Jiminy had collected herself and joined him, reaching out for his hand. Which is when he began to speak in a voice one husky octave off of normal. He explained that Jiminy just fundamentally couldn’t understand what they were up against in Fayeville. He called himself stupid for thinking there was a chance they’d be let alone, and said he couldn’t in good conscience continue putting her at risk. He said that under different circumstances he’d be willing to force the issue, but the reality was that the summer was ending and neither of them planned to stay in town much longer. Given that, he didn’t think it was wise for them to make everything more difficult and dangerous than it needed to be. He’d focus on his studying, and she’d figure out her next steps. Down the line, maybe their paths could cross again in some friendlier, easier place.

Jiminy had been unable to reply except to shake her head no while rogue tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. Bo took her hand, kissed her cheek, and told her it was better for them both if they just didn’t see each other anymore. And then he left.

Willa had listened to her granddaughter, wishing she could alleviate her hurt. But she lacked confidence in her caretaking skills. She’d already failed spectacularly with Jiminy’s mother, as far as she could tell. And her timid attempts to help out with Jiminy when her daughter was otherwise engaged had been mainly rebuffed. Beyond agreeing to a handful of sporadic visits, Margaret had made a point of letting Willa know that her services were not needed. So Willa had backed off. But now Jiminy was on her own and had sought Willa out. Was she being given another chance? She’d tried her hardest to be comforting and wise.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Bo’s right,” she’d said. “This is for the best.”

To Willa’s surprise, Jiminy had been outraged instead of soothed.

“How could you say that?” she demanded.

“It’s not right, I know, but this isn’t a battle worth fighting right now. Listen to Bo. When a young person is trying to make something of themselves, they should avoid unnecessary distractions that might throw them off course.”

Jiminy blanched. She brought her hand down to the table.

“Bo isn’t a distraction, he’s an inspiration!”

Willa looked at her granddaughter with a face full of sympathy and apology. But it was an apology for what she was about to say rather than what she already had.

“I know,” she explained gently. “I was talking about you.”

Jiminy sat there, stunned, for a very long moment, and then she burst out laughing. It had taken Willa a few seconds to determine that it was laughter and not sobs.

“I get it, I’m the distraction,” Jiminy replied. “Bo’s the one actually making something of himself, and I’m the one getting him off track. Of course. You’re absolutely right.”

The next morning, Jiminy had told Willa that she was headed to Texarkana, and might be gone a few days.

“Does Lyn know what she’s up to?” Jean asked Willa, determined to win the game in the next few strokes.

They were both getting tired, and Jean was trying to capitalize on any mistakes Willa might make.

“Because I imagine Lyn must have some strong feelings about it,” she continued. “I imagine she just might want it left alone.”

“I’m leaving that between Jiminy and Lyn,” Willa answered, feeling a burn in her right side as she reached to return a shot that barely cleared the net.

“But don’t you think Lyn would prefer Jiminy to leave all this alone?” Jean repeated, taking advantage of the weak return to hurtle a shot over the head of Willa’s avatar, to the opposite corner of the virtual court.

Willa didn’t even try to go for it. Instead, she dropped her arm to her side and turned to face Jean.

“I don’t know,” she answered in exasperation. “Is that what you’d prefer?”

Part Two

Chapter 10

In the grand room of his plantation mansion ten miles outside of Fayeville, Travis Brayer was profoundly irritated.

He’d decided to watch The Apartment after reading that his favorite director watched it before beginning any major project. It so happened that Travis had a major project to begin, so he’d put in The Apartment with high expectations. And now he was trying to figure out if he’d misunderstood and whether there might be another movie of the same name.

He supposed the plot had been amusing enough, but Bud Baxter was such a loser—not remotely the type of character to inspire anyone to spearhead an ambitious new project. Travis overturned his tray in disgust.

“Now, Mr. Brayer, what are you doing?” the nurse asked as she hustled in to pick up the mess. “If you don’t want any more juice, you can just tell me and I’ll take this away. No need to make a scene.”

Travis ignored her. He remembered the days when the help had been frightened of him, and he deeply resented the fact that this no longer seemed to be the case. How and when had he lost his authority?

“Mr. Bobby should be showing up soon,” the nurse said.

If he took this news well, she might pass over his stack of phone messages, but she needed to determine the degree of his lucidity first. Outbursts could signal movement in either direction.

“That’s State Senator Brayer to you,” Travis replied shortly.

He was lucid enough, and prickly as ever. The nurse decided to hang on to his messages a bit longer. He’d never know the difference, after all.

“Yes, sir, that’s the one,” she answered. “The future governor.”

She mopped up the spilled juice with a washcloth and took the tray with her on her way out of the room, just as the dogs began barking from the front porch.

“Dad?” Bobby called soon after from the marble foyer.

“He’s in his study,” Travis heard the nurse instruct.

A moment later, Bobby stood before him.

“Hi, Dad, how ya feeling?” Bobby asked.