“Just like,” Nelma agreed.

“It’s the hair.” She sat across from her aunts and next to a bigger girl who looked a little familiar.

“Such a sad thing,” Ivella said with a shake of her head.

What was a sad thing? Her hair?

“Poor Johanna Mae.”

Oh that sad thing. Sadie placed her linen napkin on her lap.

“Her heart was just too big,” Nelma yelled. She might have problems with her hearing, but there was nothing wrong with her voice.

The older Sadie got, the more her memories of her mother faded. And that was a very “sad thing.”

“Too big,” Ivella agreed.

Sadie turned her attention to the woman on her right and offered her left hand. “Hi, I’m Sadie Hallowell.”

“Sarah Louise Baynard-Conseco.”

“Oh, Big Buddy’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“I went to school with Little Buddy. What’s he up to these days?” She picked up her fork and took a bite of lettuce.

“He’s working in San Antonio for Mercury Oil.” Like all the people around Sadie, Sarah Louise’s voice was thick, and words like “oil” came out sounding like “ole.” Sadie used to sound like that, too, but not so much these days. “He’s married and has three kids.”

Three? He was a year younger than Sadie. She signaled a server, who poured her a glass of merlot. She took a long drink before she set the glass back on the table.

“How’s your daddy?” Nelma loudly asked.

“Good!” She took a few more bites of her salad, then added, “He went to Laredo this morning to breed a horse.”

Ivella put her fork down, a frown pulling her thin white eyebrows together. “Why on earth would he leave while you’re in town?”

She shrugged, remembered her neckline, and pulled up the top of the dress. He’d left before sunup and she hadn’t even told him good-bye. She knew him well enough to know that he intended to tell her good-bye before she left Texas, but he’d put her on the back burner until he got back.

While they ate, everyone chitchatted about the wedding. The dress and vows each had written and that kiss at the end.

“Very romantic,” Sarah Louise said as the salad plates were taken away and the entrée was placed on the table.

“When I married Charles Ray, we had our first kiss in front of the preacher,” Nelma confessed loud enough to be heard in Dalhart. “Daddy didn’t let us girls go around with the boys.”

“That’s true,” Ivella agreed.

Sadie took a close look at the dinner plate. Steak, whipped potatoes, and asparagus tips.

“There was none of this sleeping around before the marriage!”

If not for sleeping around before the marriage, she’d still be a virgin. She took a bite of her steak. Although lately, she’d seen so little action, she might as well be a virgin. She’d reached the point in her life when quality mattered most. Not that it hadn’t always mattered, but these days she’d just gotten less tolerant of lousy lays.

“Are you married?” Sarah Louise asked.

She shook her head and swallowed. “Are you?”

“Yes, but my husband lives out of town. When he gets out, we’re going to start our family.”

Out? “Is he in the military?”

“San Quentin.”

Sadie took another bite instead of asking the obvious question. Sarah Louise provided the answer anyway.

“He’s in for murder.”

Sadie’s shock must have shown on her face.

“He’s totally innocent, of course.”

Of course. “Did you know him before he . . . he . . . left?”

“No. I met him through a prison pen pal site. He’s been in for ten years and has ten more to go before he’s up for parole.”

Good God. Sadie was always amazed that, one: any woman would marry a man in prison, and, two: she’d talk about it like it was no big deal. “That’s a long time to wait for a man.”

“I’ll only be thirty-five, but even if it’s longer, I’ll wait for Ramon forever.”

“What’d she say!” Nelma asked, and pointed a fork at Sarah Louise.

“She’s tellin’ Sadie about that murderin’ man she hooked up with!”

“Well bless her heart.”

Sadie kind of felt sorry for Sarah Louise. It had to be rough living in a small town and being known for marrying “that murderin’ man.”

Aunt Nelma leaned forward and yelled, “Do you have a boyfriend, Sadie Jo?”

“No.” She raised a glass of red wine to her lips and took a sip. It was past seven and she’d actually managed to avoid that question until now. “I don’t really have time for a man right now.”

“Are you just being notional? Are you one of those women who thinks you don’t need a man?”

Growing up, whenever her thoughts and ideas had seemed different from the herd, she’d been accused of being notional. “Well, I don’t need a man.” There was a difference between wanting and needing.

“What did she say?” Nelda wanted to know.

“Sadie doesn’t need a man!”

Great. Now the whole room knew, but the aunts weren’t through yet. They were such matchmakers that they looked at each other and nodded. “Gene Tanner is available,” Ivella said. “Bless her heart.”

Gene Tanner? The girl who wore a crew cut and flannel all through high school? “She still lives in Lovett?” Sadie would have bet good money that Gene would have moved and never come back. The girl had fit in even less than Sadie had.

“She lives in Amarillo but still visits her mama just about every weekend.”

Sadie stilled and waited for the jab about her infrequent visits with her father.

“She works for the park service and probably has a good health plan.”

Sadie relaxed. This was her mother’s side of the family, and they’d never cared a great deal for Clive Hollowell. They’d made no secret that they’d found him too cold and unfeeling for their Johanna Mae. “Dental, do you think?” she asked to be a total smart aleck.

“I would imagine.” Before Nelma could ask, Ivella cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Sadie Jo wants to know if Gene Tanner has a dental plan!”

“A girl could do worse than a lesbian with a dental plan,” she mumbled, and took a bite of potato. “Too bad I’m leaving in the morning.”

Sarah Louise looked a bit horrified that she might possibly be sitting next to a lesbian, but who was she to judge? She was married to “that murderin’ man” who wasn’t even up for parole for ten years.

After dinner, everyone followed the bride and groom into the ballroom and Sadie escaped the aunts. Beneath the room-glittering chandeliers, the newlyweds took their first turn on the dance floor to “I Won’t Let Go” by Rascal Flatts. It was really a beautiful moment of young love on the brink of a wide-open future, and again, it made Sadie feel old.

She was only thirty-three. She took a glass of wine from a passing tray and stood beside a ficus tree draped in pink and white ribbon. She was old and alone at thirty-three.

Next, Tally Lynn danced with Uncle Jim to “All-American Girl.” They smiled and laughed and Uncle Jim looked at his daughter with undeniable love and approval. Sadie didn’t ever recall her own daddy looking at her that way. She liked to think that he had and she just didn’t remember.

She turned down a dance with Rusty, mostly because she didn’t want to fall out of her dress, but also because he looked to be really into his girlfriend.

“Hey, Sadie Jo.”

Sadie turned and looked into a pair of deep brown eyes. Over the sound of the band she said, “Flick?”

Her tenth grade boyfriend spread his arms wide and showed his slight paunch beneath his American flag dress shirt. “How are you, girl?”

“Good.” She offered her hand but of course he grabbed her in a hug that sloshed her wine. She felt his hand on her butt and remembered why she’d dated Flick Stewart for only a short time. He was a groper. Thank God she’d never slept with him. “What have you been up to?”

“Got married and had a couple of kids,” he answered next to her ear. “Got divorced last year.”

Married and divorced? She extracted herself from his arms.

“Wanna dance?” he asked above the music.

With Flick the groper? Suddenly, hanging with her aunts sounded like a great time. “Maybe later. It was good to see you again.” She moved out into the foyer and found Nelma and Ivella chatting at a table with Aunt Bess. Bess was her mother’s youngest sister by ten years, which put her in her midsixties.

She sat down to take a load off her four-inch pumps, and within seconds, the three aunts started quizzing her again about her life and lack of a relationship. She took a drink of her wine and wondered how much longer she had to stay before she could go home and get out of her tight dress and shoes. Pack her bags, wait for her father to get home, and go to bed. She wanted to hit the road at daybreak.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Sadie Jo,” Aunt Bess said as a sad smile pulled at her lips. “It’s like having a piece of Johanna Mae back.”

At least it was a change of topic, but Sadie never knew what to say to that. She’d always felt like she should know, but she didn’t. Like she should just naturally know how to comfort her mother’s family for their loss, but she was clueless.

“I remember the night she won Miss Texas. It was in Dallas and she sang ‘Tennessee Waltz’ for her talent.”

Ivella nodded. “She sang like an angel. Miss Patti Page couldn’t have done a better job.”

“Well, that’s where the similarities between my mother and me end. I can’t sing.”

“Huh! What’d she say?”

“She said she can’t carry a tune in a bucket! Bless her heart.”

Aunt Bess rolled her eyes and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Where are your hearing aids, Nelma?”

“On my nightstand! I took my ears out so I wouldn’t have to listen to Velma Patterson’s yappy dog, Hector, all damn day, and I forgot to put ’em back in! I hate that dog! Velma makes it bark on purpose ’cause she’s mean as a box of rattlers at a revival!”