“You’re crazy,” Annajane said, walking as fast as she could through the hospital corridor. “And it won’t do any good. By now you know Celia. She’s unstoppable. She gets what she wants. And she wants Mason.”

“Tough shit,” Pokey said, trotting along beside Annajane. “How long have you known me?”

“Too long,” Annajane muttered.

“How long?”

“Going on thirty years, God help me,” Annajane said.

“Do you remember Toni? With an I?”

Annajane wrinkled her brow, trying to remember anybody from their shared past named Toni.

“I give up. Who was Toni?”

“Toni the Pony,” Pokey prompted. “When we were ten?”

“Ohhhh, that Toni,” Annajane said. “Poor old thing. How old did she live to be?”

“She was seventeen when she just laid down in the pasture and went to sleep,” Pokey said proudly.

“And how does Toni the Pony have anything to do for your loathing of your future sister-in-law?” Annajane asked.

They’d left the hospital and were in the parking lot, headed, by unspoken mutual agreement, for Pokey’s Land Rover.

“Do you remember how Toni came to live at Cherry Hill?” Pokey asked, sliding into the front seat of the unlocked car.

“You wanted a pony. Your daddy bought you a pony. That’s how things usually worked in the life of Pokey Bayless,” Annajane said.

“Not just any pony. I wanted Toni. I guess you’ve forgotten. Mama hired some company that had pony rides to come out to Cherry Hill for my tenth birthday. Remember, we had the cowgirl theme?”

Annajane laughed. “I just found my monogrammed cowboy hat and personalized cap pistol when I was packing stuff last week. And I still didn’t throw them out, for some reason that escapes me right now. Your mama did throw some amazing birthday parties, that’s for sure.”

“The company brought four ponies to my party. And Toni was just … pathetic. She was so skinny, I wouldn’t let anybody get on to ride her. She had sores on her neck, and her eyes were all runny. I begged Mama to get Daddy to buy her for me, but Mama wouldn’t even consider it. She pointed out that Toni was about half-dead.”

“So you went to your daddy.”

“Exactly,” Pokey said, nodding. “Daddy agreed with Mama. Said I already had a dog and a cat and a lizard, and we didn’t even have a place to keep a pony, which was ridiculous, because we totally had a fenced-in pasture and the old dairy barn out at Granddad’s farm.”

“It’s coming back to me now,” Annajane said. “You pitched a fit and didn’t quit.”

“Toni would have died!” Pokey said. “She was sick, and those awful people treated their animals like crap. I begged and I pleaded. I got that woman’s phone number and called her up and told her I was gonna report her to the police for being mean to animals.”

“You were ten,” Annajane said, marveling at the memory. “How on earth?”

“I just knew I was the only person who could save Toni. I told Mama I would never ask for anything else the rest of my life. I prayed every night that they would buy Toni for me. I went on a hunger strike, refusing to eat.”

“Of course you ate when they weren’t looking,” Annajane reminded her.

“But not dinner,” Pokey said. “I kept it up for a whole week, pestering and whining and carrying on, until I finally wore Daddy out and he bought Toni just to shut me up.”

“You got your way,” Annajane agreed. “So that’s the moral of this story?”

“Toni came to live in a stall I fixed up for her at the farm. We got the vet to see her, and she got healthy and fat and happy, and I rode her every day until I got too tall to ride her without my feet dragging on the ground. So Toni lived out a long and happy life. And that, my friend, is the moral of this story. Never underestimate the power of Pokey Bayless Riggs, especially when it involves something or somebody she loves.”

“Hmm,” Annajane said. “You know I am your biggest fan and best friend for life, right? But you may have met your match with Celia.”

Pokey whipped the Land Rover into the parking lot at the only restaurant in Passcoe that was open on Sunday. The Smokey Pig. She put the car in park and turned to give Annajane an appraising look. “You know something you’re not telling me?”

Annajane shrugged. “I was in my office this morning. At Quixie. Trying to get some last-minute memos and reports out. I had my door closed, but I could hear her as she was walking down the hallway. You know how loud her voice is.”

“Celia?”

“Yeah. She was talking to somebody on her cell.”

“About?”

“I only heard one side of the conversation,” Annajane admitted. “She was telling somebody named Jerry that they had to go slow—because these people’s business was their life.”

“People—as in us?”

“That’s what I assumed,” Annajane said. “Look, I don’t really know what they were discussing.”

“But you have an idea. Let’s hear it.”

“She talked about Davis—and how since he’s the middle child, he always thinks he has something to prove to the world.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Pokey said under her breath.

“And that he was in favor of whatever Celia and her pal were discussing—because he wants to spread his wings, because he has bigger plans for himself. And she said she thought Davis was the key to the deal.”

“Good old Davis,” Pokey said. “Always scheming something. What else?”

Annajane laughed. “She said it might be tricky because the younger sister—you—didn’t really like her very much, but that you probably have a substantial ownership interest in the company.”

“Quixie!” Pokey exclaimed. “You think she was talking to this guy about trying to sell Quixie?”

“I don’t know,” Annajane said. “Maybe?”

“Son of a bitch,” Pokey said slowly. “What else did you hear?”

“Nothing. She walked on past my office, and then my phone rang, and it was Mason asking if I was going to come to the hospital because Sophie was asking for me.”

It was another beautiful spring day, so they found a wooden picnic table on the patio and placed orders for two Smokey specials—sliced pork, cole slaw, and potato salad. The waitress brought them jelly jars full of sweet iced tea, and they waved and greeted neighbors and acquaintances.

“We have got to stop Celia,” Pokey said, leaning across the table to keep from being overheard.

“Stop her from what? We don’t even know that she’s up to anything,” Annajane pointed out.

“First, we stop her from marrying my brother. Then, we stop her from whatever nefarious other plot she’s scheming in that adorable little blond head of hers,” Pokey said with a scowl. “This is war.”

“We don’t even know what she’s up to.”

“So we’ll figure it out,” Pokey said. “You’re smart and I’m conniving. Are you in, or are you out?”

Annajane took a long sip of her iced tea. She plucked a package of Town House crackers from the basket on the table and picked nervously at the cellophane wrapper.

“I care about Quixie,” she said finally. “And I care about you and the family, really I do. Especially Sophie. But let’s be honest here. I don’t actually have a dog in this hunt.”

“You admitted to me yesterday that you still have feelings for Mason,” Pokey protested.

Annajane sighed loudly. “I should have kept my big fat mouth shut.”

“But you didn’t. Anyway, you didn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over your face. You’re still in love with Mason. And you still work for Quixie.”

“Only until Friday. Although Celia suggested earlier I should get the hell out right away because she’s having my office painted for my successor.”

“And you said?”

Annajane gave her a conspiratorial grin. “That I couldn’t possibly vacate the premises that early.”

“Good for you,” Pokey said. “Until Friday, you’re still on the company payroll, so you actually do have a dog in this hunt. If Celia is plotting to take over the company or sell it off to the highest bidder, or whatever, this is an emergency. You have to help.”