Secrets over Sweet Tea by Denise Hildreth Jones

just see what he does.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Marissa, if you can’t make it another day, you can go home tonight and tell him. I’ll understand that completely. But since you’ve kept your secret this long, I think it would benefit you and your daughter in the long run to follow this thing all the way through.”
    Her eyes cleared and she nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
    “Any questions you have for me?”
    “No. I don’t think so.”
    “Okay, well, get me what you have as soon as you can and let me know if anything new develops once he’s out of town. Then we’ll get the next pieces of our plan ready. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to hire a private investigator either.” He watched the fear return to her face. “I have a couple of great ones I work with a lot. They could follow him if he’s staying within the state.”
    Her words came out in stutters. “He’s going to Memphis.”
    He walked to the large console that sat against one of the walls and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a couple of cards and handed them to her. “Only if you want to. It’s just another layer of protection.”
    She took the cards slowly as she stood. Then she extended her hand. “Thank you, Mr.—um, Zach. I so appreciate it. Now, what about your fee?”
    “I charge two hundred dollars an hour and require a twenty-five-hundred-dollar retainer. Usually it ends up being a little more. But honestly, with all the legwork you are already doing, we will probably end up pretty close to that. I can give you a contract to look over if you want.”
    She exhaled slowly. “That isn’t as bad as I thought. Sure, yes.”
    He reached into another drawer and pulled a contract from one of the manila folders inside. When he handed it to her, she tucked it into the portfolio she had brought with her.
    “Well, thank you again.”
    “You’re very welcome. We’ll do this together, okay?”
    She gave him the best smile she had in her. He patted her arm and walked her to the door. After he closed it behind her, he moved to the window.
    He pulled at his pastel-striped bow tie as he stared at the Franklin Main Street activity. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, so most of the passersby were either retirees, visitors, or stay-at-home moms. He watched Marissa climb into her car and found himself wondering what Caroline’s words would sound like to a lawyer. He shook the thought off. He didn’t have to worry about Caroline. His wife was too wrapped up in her own world to suspect that something could be going on in his. He breathed a grateful sigh. Sometimes narcissism was actually a good thing.

“Slap him again, Cooper. Mama dares you.” Scarlett Jo set the plate of fried chicken down on the counter. “You may be thirteen years old, but you are not too old to be spanked.”
    Cooper rubbed the top of his head, mimicking his little brother, his hand moving his disheveled brown locks into another state of disarray. He spooned some rice onto his plate without saying a word.
    “Mom, I can’t eat this.” Forrest stood in protest, nodding toward the chicken.
    She moved the pot of field peas to a pot holder on top of the island and looked at her secondborn. “Forrest, look at your mother, baby. Tucker doesn’t eat fried foods because they make him gassy. He has a legitimate excuse not to eat what’s put infront of him. But I happen to know that you love your mama’s fried chicken, and it’s never disagreed with you. It sure hasn’t killed me. And think of your grandparents. Your grandmother is still alive and kicking. Okay, more alive than kicking, but she fried chicken every day for forty years of her life to feed all the men working in Daddy’s tobacco fields. If it was good enough for them, it’s good enough for you.”
    Forrest stood there, his plate pressed against his University of Tennessee T-shirt. “But, Mom, it’s meat.”
    Now she remembered. Two days ago Forrest had seen some kind of documentary on TV and announced he