A Seagrove Christmas (South Carolina Sunsets #6) - Rachel Hanna Page 0,2

cinnamon. She made a mental note and then went back to listening to Hen prattle on about whatever it was she was talking about.

“Are you listening to me?”

“What? Yes. I’m just thinking about a recipe.”

Hen rolled her eyes. “I said that the Seagrove Christmas Festival is coming up in a couple of weeks, and my husband wants you to have a big table there. There’s also going to be a cakewalk game, and we want you to provide some cakes. What do you say?”

Hen’s husband was the mayor, and she had grown to like him pretty well, although she didn’t see him nearly as much as she saw Hen.

“Of course. Just give me the details, and I’ll bake whatever we need.”

Hen finished her cake and stood up. “Well, I’d better get out of here. I have a meeting at the botanical gardens, and then my book club meets tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to join? It’s a hoot!”

SuAnn rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hang out with a bunch of old biddies and talk about books? No, thank you.”

Hen waved her hand at SuAnn as she walked toward the door. “You’re so silly! I’ll see you later, you irritable old bird!”

As SuAnn watched Hen walk down the sidewalk and around the corner, she couldn’t help but be thankful for their new friendship. It seemed like no one really “got her”, but Hen did. They were two of a kind, and she wasn’t always sure that was a good thing.

“Sorry I’m late!” Darcy said as she breezed in through the back door of the bakery. Her hair was flying all over the place, her purse falling off her shoulder. “My son was sick all night, and then my sitter was late showing up. I got no sleep, but here I am!”

“Well, you look dreadful, dear. Maybe you should go clean yourself up a bit in the bathroom? Don’t want to scare the customers.”

Darcy glared at her. “Wow, thanks, SuAnn. You know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” She put her purse under the cash register and turned toward the bathroom.

“Honesty is the best policy!” SuAnn called to her as Darcy slammed the door.

* * *

Dixie scurried around her house, trying to get everything as clean as possible. She felt like the Queen was coming, but it was only Harry’s daughter, Carrie. Although she’d been married to Harry for months, she had yet to meet his one and only child. Carrie traveled a lot for her work, and she hadn’t come to see her father since Dixie had met him. Although he spoke with her on the phone quite often, Dixie had never formally met her.

Harry had only told her that Carrie had been married at one time, to a doctor, and they’d divorced within three years of getting married. She’d been single for over a decade, with no kids, and was very focused on her career as an advertising executive. Most recently, she’d lived in Los Angeles and worked on some of the most famous advertising campaigns.

“What are you doing, woman?” Harry asked, shocked to see Dixie standing on a step stool, trying to clean the ceiling fan blades in the kitchen. He walked over and put his hand on her leg. “You’re going to fall!”

“Oh, I certainly am not! I’m not an invalid, darlin’,” she said, laughing. Of course, she wasn’t about to admit that she’d almost fallen twice already.

“Get down from there,” he said, picking her up around her legs and lowering her to the floor.

She smacked him playfully on the arm. Harry might’ve had Parkinson’s disease, just like she did, but he was still as strong as an ox. Physical therapy had helped him maintain his muscles so far. That was a good thing because she needed him to be strong so they could keep traveling in their motorhome.

“Harry, your daughter will be here in a few minutes, and this place needs to look nice!”

He put his hands on her cheeks. “Listen to me, Dixie. Carrie isn’t going to notice our ceiling fan blades or the dust bunny in the corner of the guest bathroom.”

Dixie’s mouth dropped open. “There’s a dust bunny in there? Oh, Lord!” She moved past him quickly, picking up the broom that was leaning against the refrigerator on her way to the bathroom off the foyer.

“Honey, I think you’re getting a little…”

Dixie’s head swung around. “A little what?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, now, don’t get your feathers ruffled when I