HAVING FINALLY SNARED REDMON IN HER PLANS FOR REVENGE and retribution, Virginia had no intention of letting him wriggle free. There wasn't a lot of time to pull this off without a hitch, although Virginia was the only one who knew this, of course. In the weeks following their trip to the island she worked feverishly behind the scenes to ensure that the Culpepper Plantation project proceeded ahead of schedule. She made sure Redmon met with the designer, made sure the permits were pulled and all the zoning approval processes were streamlined. Under Virginia's careful tutelage the slow, methodical wheel of county government spun like a well-oiled turbine. And she did it all without ever once expressing more than a glancing interest in the project. Virginia was a genius of detached involvement. She was a master of understated micromanagement.

There were times, though, when Virginia's impatience nearly got the best of her. There were moments, when Redmon dragged his feet over some insignificant detail, when she wanted to stamp her feet and rant and howl like a madwoman. It was at times like these that Virginia's sixty-five years of training as a Southern Lady served her well. A Southern Lady did not raise her voice or curse her husband. She did not throw crockery or kitchen knives or fireplace tools no matter how great the provocation. She was always a picture of serene and detached attractiveness, from her wellpedicured toes to her perfectly styled hair. She was a cool oasis of calm and reasonable sanity in the uncertain maelstrom of life.

There were days when it took every bit of false patience and cunning artifice that Virginia could muster.

By the first of March, her steel-jawed trap had been set, waiting only for Jimmy Lee to insert one of his hapless but expendable limbs. On a bright, sunny Tuesday morning, Virginia rose early to make Redmon's favorite breakfast: scrambled eggs, fried country ham, grits, biscuits, and red-eye gravy. Redmon followed the scent down the stairs like a bloodhound, standing in the doorway and lifting his big red nose to sniff the air.

“Goddamn, I smell ham,” he said gleefully. “What's the occasion?”

“Well, now, does there have to be an occasion?” Virginia said, widening her eyes coquettishly. She had made up her face and fixed her hair, and forgone her usual cotton bathrobe and slippers for a shimmering silk kimono and a pair of leopard-print mules. Normally, the mules alone would have been enough to capture Redmon's attention for some time, but at this moment he was fixed on something infinitely more appealing: fried ham. His doctor had long ago forbidden salty foods and cured meats. Standing there in the warm, fragrant kitchen with the smell of fried pork flaring in his nostrils, Redmon was like a recovering addict stumbling across a cache of Mexican black tar heroin.

“Goddamn, Queenie, what are you trying to do, kill me?”

She blanched and swung around to face the sizzling skillet. She thought, Now there's an idea. She said, “Oh, a little bit every now and then won't hurt you. Sit down. The biscuits are almost done.”

He sat down and she poured him a cup of coffee and slid a thick slice of ham onto his plate. She took the skillet back to the stove to make the gravy while he loaded his plate with eggs and grits.

“Um-um,” he said, chewing loudly. “If I'd known you were such a good cook, Queenie, I'd of had you down in the kitchen every morning making my breakfast.”

She thought, Fat chance of that ever happening. She said, “Silly,” grinning at him over her shoulder. She browned some flour in the skillet and then poured a little coffee in, stirring until it reached a rich brown color. The oven dinged and she took the biscuits out. “You've got that big meeting today,” she said briskly. “You need a good breakfast.”

Redmon chewed his ham and looked at her blankly. “What meeting?” he said.

She glanced up at him. “That meeting with Nita's husband, silly. About the Culpepper Plantation project.”

He took a swig of coffee and grimaced. “How'd you know about that?”

She turned and took the skillet off the fire. “Oh, I don't know,” she said, waving one hand vaguely. “You might have mentioned it at dinner.” She set a plate of biscuits down on the table in front of him. “Are you ready for some gravy?”

Redmon grinned and sucked his cheek. “Does a wet dog stink?” he said.

He opened up a biscuit on his plate and she poured gravy over it. Then she set the skillet back on the stove. “What time did you say it was?” she said. “The meeting?”

“There ain't no meeting,” Redmon said. “Goddamn, Queenie, where'd you learn to make red-eye gravy like this?”

Virginia put her hand on her hip. “What do you mean there ain't no meeting?” she said sharply.

Redmon frowned, looking at her suspiciously. She quickly turned to the sink and began to wipe the counter down with a dishcloth, trying to catch her breath, trying to drown out the sound of jungle drums that had started up suddenly and were pounding in her head. “I'm playing golf today,” Redmon said, behind her. “Got a ten o'clock tee time with that sumbitch Jack Ledford who took fifty dollars off me last week. I aim to get it back today,” he said, scooping a piece of biscuit up on his fork.

Virginia waited until her breathing was even, until the pounding in her head had gone from a base drum to a snare. Then she swung around to face him, both hands stretched out on either side of her, gripping the marble counter. “Golf?” she said sweetly. “But what about that meeting? What about the Culpepper Plantation project? We need to get a contractor lined up so we can get started immediately on the foundations.”

Redmon stared at her steadily, his jaw moving like a pile driver. “This is business, Queenie. You let me handle it.”

Virginia relaxed her stance. “Well, of course, dear, I don't know a thing about business. Obviously, you know what you're doing. I didn't mean to imply—”

“Why do you care so much about it anyway?” Redmon said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Me? Oh I could care less,” she said with a throaty little laugh. “I just thought you had everything worked out. I just thought you were ready to begin.”

He sucked his teeth and looked at her irritably. “I'll be ready when I say I'm ready.”

“Well, of course, dear.” She put a hand up and carelessly fluffed her hair. She picked up the coffeepot and poured him another cup of coffee. “Everyone gets cold feet and I do understand not everyone's a gambler,” she said casually.

He squinted at her, chewing high up in his right cheek. “I've done pretty good up to now,” he said.

“Of course you have! And I understand you wouldn't want to risk it all.” She shook her head and put the coffeepot down. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her little foot. “In fact, now that I think of it, I don't think it's something you should do at all.”

“Goddamn it, I've made up my mind.”

“That kind of risk, at your age.”

“Hellfire, woman, I know what I'm doing!”

“Maybe we can take a cruise instead.”

“I'm meeting with that pasty-faced churnhead Friday at nine o'clock!”

“More biscuits?” Virginia said brightly, lifting the plate.

SHE CRASHED THE MEETING OF COURSE. SHE COULDN'T HELP herself. Besides, she didn't trust Redmon to close the deal, and her whole plot centered on Jimmy Lee taking the bait.

She sailed into Redmon's office Friday morning carrying a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Sunlight flooded the room. Jimmy Lee sat in a chair in front of Redmon's desk looking dazed and confused. Redmon leaned toward him with his elbows resting on the desk, a sly, crafty expression on his face. If that's his business face, it's no wonder no one will do business with him, Virginia thought savagely.

“Yoo-hoo!” she said gaily. “Oh dear, excuse me! Here I am coming to bring my husband a breakfast treat and I had forgotten all about his Big Important Meeting.” She put her hand up in front of her mouth and giggled. Jimmy Lee looked relieved, which Virginia thought was a bad sign. If Redmon wasn't careful, her Big Fish would wiggle off the hook and she'd be left with nothing but the worm. A big fat red-nosed worm. “Doughnut?” she said, opening the box and pushing it toward Jimmy Lee.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching inside. She smiled and offered the box to Redmon.

“We were talking business,” he said gruffly, taking a doughnut.

“Oh, I know, men and their business! It's a good thing the business world is run by men and not silly women like me!” She giggled again and smoothed her hands over her trim little hips. Her figure really was quite stunning, and Jimmy Lee's expression told her he thought so, too. Good. That would make it easier.

Jimmy Lee cleared his throat. “I'm a little unclear why you need me,” he said, looking at Redmon.

“I need a general contractor,” Redmon said impatiently. “Someone to make sure the subs show up and the work gets done. Someone to …”

“I'm sure my husband has already explained all this,” Virginia said, letting one small hand rest against her ample bosom. “He's explained it to me until I'm sure he's blue in the face, but from the little bit I can understand, this is how it goes. And do interrupt me, dear, if I get it wrong,” she said, turning to Redmon who watched her with a gloomy expression. He reached a big hairy hand in the box and pulled out another doughnut. “I own the property,” she said, thumping her bosom lightly with her hand and smiling at Jimmy Lee.

“You and”—she struggled for a moment, trying to remember Redmon's Christian name—“Bob … You and Bob will go into partnership in the Culpepper Plantation Development. You'll pay me a finder's fee, a lump sum due at the beginning of the project, and you'll cover all the initial development costs, surveying, design, roads, utilities, well, you know, all that icky stuff.” She giggled apologetically and rolled her eyes. Jimmy Lee smiled and looked at his hands. “I'll retain ownership of the property but as each lot is improved, I'll release title to that lot to you at a preagreed price. A price much below market value, of course.” She smiled at Jimmy Lee like they were coconspirators. Redmon helped himself to another doughnut.

“Once the first ten lots are developed, sold, and paid for, I'll release the remaining acres to Culpepper Plantation Development Company.” She nodded her head at his stunned expression. “That's right,” she said. “You two will own the entire remainder of the island, which should be worth a pretty penny by then, to do with as you please.”

Jimmy Lee looked at her, openmouthed. A minute later he looked at Redmon and then back at her, swiveling his head back and forth like a spectator at the Darlington 500. “But why would you do that? Why would you give up the property so cheaply?”

She put her hand to her throat and laughed her girlish laugh. “Really, what do I want with an island in the middle of the Black Warrior River. It's not like I plan on doing anything with it. I don't need the money.” She smiled at Redmon. “And it would be lovely to see the old home place restored to some of its past glory.”

Jimmy Lee frowned and shook his head. “What does the bank say to all this?”

“No banks,” Virginia said briskly.

“Why?”

“That's what I said,” Redmon said glumly.

“Now,” Virginia purred, cocking one eyebrow at Redmon. “Banks prolong the process. They can tie you up in red tape so long you're practically a grandfather before the approval is made.”

“But that means we'll have to come up with the development money ourselves,” Jimmy Lee said.

Redmon grunted. “You hit the nail right on the head, son,” he said.

Jimmy Lee was quiet a moment, considering this. “But why me?” he asked finally. “I mean, I know you need a general contractor, but why me, exactly?”

“Well,” Virginia said, letting her eyes mist. She paused a moment before continuing. “It's all about family.” She stopped again and touched a fingertip to the outer edge of both eyes. After a few moments of awkward silence, she went on. “Now, of course, you're not actually family, but you are my grandchildren's stepfather. And my grandchildren are important to me. I want them to be happy. What's good for you is good for them. I want this to feel like one big happy family.”

Jimmy Lee was aware that Virginia had been spending a lot of time with Whitney. Nita had remarked about it just the other day, going on and on about how she had maybe misjudged Virginia over the years, how it was never too late for people to change for the better. And it was a fact Jimmy Lee had been racking his brain trying to figure out some way to make a better life for himself and Nita. This was the deal of a lifetime. The deal that would put him at the top of the monetary heap, for a change. He'd be able to afford a new house and a proper honeymoon for Nita, maybe a trip to Europe, or a cruise to the Bahamas. And he'd be able to afford to buy the kids the things their real daddy could give them, things like new cars or trips to Disney World or tuition to that snotty private school they used to go to. And who knows? Maybe having a husband who was a good and steady provider would make Nita change her mind about having other kids, too.

He looked at Redmon. “How much?” he said.

Redmon never skipped a beat. “Five hundred thousand,” he said. “Each.”

Jimmy Lee put his head back and hooted. He laughed and looked at the ceiling like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. “I could sell my truck, my house, my boat, and all my tools and still not have a quarter of that. I guess y'all better find yourself another partner.”

“Hey, no problemo,” Redmon said. “Not everybody's cut out for the high stakes game of real estate investment. It takes a smart man to know when he's skating on black ice.”

Virginia looked at him like do shut up. She sighed and checked one of the freckles on her arm. “Of course we understand,” she said. She looked out the window at the low-lying Ithaca skyline. “We wanted to give you first chance at the deal, but we have a list of other potential partners.” She smiled wanly at Jimmy Lee. “Charles perhaps.”

Redmon said, “Charles? Charles who?”

Virginia looked at him coolly. “He's been talking about doing some development deals,” she said flatly. “He's been talking about trying some other field besides the law.”

Redmon snorted. “Your son, Charles? That pencil pusher couldn't split enough firewood to fry an egg, much less run a multimillion-dollar job site.”

Virginia gave him a dirty look but kept her mouth shut.

Jimmy Lee sat forward with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his hands clasped in front of him. He wasn't laughing now. One knee vibrated nervously while he thought about things. “Let me make a few phone calls,” he said finally. “Give me until the first of the week to see if I can come up with the money.”

“Now, boy, don't do anything stupid,” Redmon said gravely, shaking his head. “Keep your wagon between the ditches, if you know what I mean. If it don't feel right in your gut, don't do it.”

Jimmy Lee coughed politely. Virginia clamped her lips together so tightly she tasted blood. She ignored Redmon, staring out the window at a flock of buzzards nesting on the Courthouse roof. When she felt her blood pressure had dipped back down into normal range, she smiled flatly at Jimmy Lee and said, “Will you let us know by Tuesday?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He stood up slowly and stretched his hand across Redmon's big desk. “Sir.”

Redmon took his hand. “I like you, boy,” he said. “If this don't work out I maybe got some work for you over in Walnut Springs.”

“Okay.” Jimmy Lee nodded once at Virginia. She stepped aside so he could pass but at the last minute she said, “Oh, and one other thing.” He turned around. “Let's keep this between us, for the moment. Just until we see if it's going to work out or not. We're kind of in a sticky situation what with offering the partnership to you first, and not Charles. I don't want Nita caught in the middle, if you know what I mean.” She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly manner.

Jimmy Lee shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “I'll keep it quiet for the time being. Let me see what I can do.”

LEOTA QUARLES WAS STILL IN BED WHEN NITA ARRIVED, ALTHOUGH she was sitting up and smiling. She'd been sick with pneumonia the last few weeks and hadn't been able to have any visitors. The pneumonia had hung on, persisting through three rounds of antibiotic treatment before finally disappearing.

“Hey, Miz Broadwell,” she said, catching sight of Nita. Nita had told Leota her name was Motes now but she had obviously forgotten.

“You're looking so much better,” Nita said, putting the flowers she had brought on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Oh, thank you. Those are lovely. Lilies are my favorite.”

Nita stood beside the bed, patting her arm. “Miss Leota we don't have to talk today. You go ahead and save your strength.”

“Good gracious, no,” the old woman said, shaking her head. “I look forward to your visits, honey. The older you get, the more time you like to spend in the past. And sometimes it's nice to have someone along with you.” She motioned for Nita to sit down. After a while, she cleared her throat and began to talk.

“Her fifteenth year, everything changed. Miss Virginia got an electric sewing machine for Christmas and she began to make her own clothes, studying the glamour magazines she checked out from the public library and copying the styles she saw movie stars and debutantes wearing. Every Saturday, she went to the movies with a different boy and she'd come home with stars in her eyes and set about making whatever outfit she'd seen Bette Davis or Lauren Bacall or Ava Gardner wearing. She was still small in stature but she had a lovely figure, which her stylish clothes showed off nicely. That was also the year Mary Lee Hamilton died. She just stopped eating and then she died. She had that disease, that … oh, now, what do you call it?”

“Anorexia nervosa?”

“Is that what they call it? We just called it starving yourself to death. Anyway, she died in the fall and after that the other girls started being a lot nicer to Miss Virginia. They started asking her to go with them to the malt shop and the drive-in theater and downtown on Saturday afternoons. The boys had been nice to her for a while but now the girls started being nice, too, and just when it seemed like everything was going Miss Virginia's way, just when it seemed like the Queen Bee might be back for good, trouble found her. Trouble with a capital T. That was the year Hampton Boone came back from Vanderbilt for Christmas.”

She coughed a little bit and Nita poured her a glass of water and waited while she drank it. Leota smiled and lay back with her head on a pillow.

“Hampton Boone was three years older than Miss Virginia and he'd gone to that fancy school out on the river, oh, now, what do you call that school?”

“Barron Hall?”

“Yeah, that's it. Only in those days it was a boys school, there were no girls allowed. Anyway, Hampton Boone was what you'd call movie star handsome. He was tall and blond and he'd walk down the street and the girls would practically swoon at his feet. He'd gone up to Vanderbilt with that Maureen Hamilton, Mary Lee's older sister, and everybody said they were engaged. Miss Virginia must have known who he was, but I'd never heard her speak of Hampton Boone until that Christmas he came back to visit his mama on his school vacation.

Miss Virginia'd been coming out of the malt shop with some of the other girls and Hampton was going in. He stood there holding the door and looking at her like he'd seen an angel. She told me about it later, how he stood there with the sunlight shining on his blond hair and staring at her. She'd said thank you, and tripped out with her little nose in the air, 'cause Miss Virginia was savvy when it came to boys. She knew the only way to catch one was to act like you didn't want nothing to do with him.

Anyway, Hampton Boone had never been treated like that by a female in his whole life, and he fell hard, right there in the doorway of the malt shop. He called Miss Virginia on the phone and asked her to go with him to the movies and she said no, she already had a date, and he said, break it. Just like that. Later on, he showed up at the movie theater where Miss Virginia and her date were, and he had a bouquet of yellow roses, and when Miss Virginia came out with her date he handed them to her. She said why didn't he give them to Maureen Hamilton since they were engaged, and he said he wasn't engaged to nobody, least of all Maureen Hamilton. She was with Bob Parsons and she said, Bob, take me home now, and Hampton Boone said, I'm taking you home, and she said, Not on your life. He looked at Bob and said, I'm taking her home, and Bob said, Sure, Hamp, whatever you want.”

ALL THE WAY HOME NITA THOUGHT ABOUT VIRGINIA'S SAD CHILDHOOD. She could almost picture the childish Virginia, disparaged and cruelly treated by the Mary Lee Hamilton's of the world, yet proud and defiant still in the face of poverty and adversity. The loneliness and isolation of the island must have been like a physical wound to someone as dignified and socially needy as Virginia was. Nita felt certain that the chains that bound her had been forged on that lonely island in the middle of the Black Warrior River, chains that Virginia had never been able to break, no matter how hard she tried to reinvent herself, no matter how many wealthy men she married. Although none of this excused Virginia's domineering nature, it did help explain it.

Nita got home early enough to make dinner, for a change. Jimmy Lee had a meeting at the bank and Logan was in his room, strumming his guitar. Whitney lay on the sofa in the den, idly flipping through TV channels.

“Wash your hands,” Nita said to her. “And set the table for dinner.”

Whitney groaned and covered her face with a pillow. “Why do I always have to set the table. Why doesn't Logan ever do anything around here?”

“Logan mows the grass and takes out the trash. But if you'd like to switch jobs for a while, that's fine with me.”

Whitney threw the pillow across the room and got up and lurched into the kitchen like a felon on her way to a public flogging. Nita watched her in amazement. She couldn't understand Whitney's surly behavior. Nita had always been a happy child. She came from a family who'd always loved one another and not been ashamed to show it, a family who'd done their chores without complaining. Times were lean, financially, when Nita and her two brothers were children, but Nita had not been aware of this. Her daddy was a stonemason, a working man, whose fortunes did not improve until Nita and her brothers were nearly grown. But even when times were tough Loretta and Eustis had made sure their children didn't go without. There might not have been fancy vacations to Disney World or the Grand Canyon, but Eustis had built them a sweet little camper out of plywood and canvas and they'd camped all over the Southeast, swimming in lakes so clear you could see the mussels nestled in their silty bottoms, and hiking mountain trails where Cherokee war parties had once roamed.

When Jimmy Lee got home that night he looked tired and discouraged. He'd had a lean spring so far and Nita knew he was worried about money. She was able to cover their expenses and some of the mortgage with the money Charles paid her for child support. And she paid for her college tuition with money from her own account. But she knew firsthand the terrors of self-employment—her own father had struggled for years before his masonry business showed a fat bank account—and she knew Jimmy Lee was worried about the next job coming in. They had four hundred dollars in their bank account and the mortgage was due in three weeks. Well, it couldn't be helped. Nita would transfer some of the money in her account into their joint account, although how she would do it without hurting his pride, she wasn't sure.

“You cooked dinner,” Jimmy Lee said, leaning to kiss her. He was wearing khaki slacks and the blue-striped shirt he had worn to their wedding, and looked as handsome and successful as any New York stockbroker on his way up the corporate ladder. He had dressed up for his meeting at the bank, although she could tell from his face it hadn't gone well.

Nita put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him again. “Wash your hands and we'll eat,” she said.

Nita filled everyone's plate and then sat down. They held hands while Jimmy Lee said the blessing.

“Hey, Jimmy, I downloaded those chords from ‘Statesboro Blues’ today,” Logan said, opening up his napkin. He and his stepfather shared a love of music.

“Cool,” Jimmy Lee said. “Did you learn them yet?”

“I've got the first part figured out but the instrumental is pretty complicated.” Logan had recently dyed his hair a deep shade of red. Beneath the overhead light, his lip ring glistened wetly.

“Yeah, I know,” Jimmy Lee said. “Dickey Betts is God.”

Whitney sniffed her plate and said, “What exactly is this stuff?”

Jimmy Lee chewed steadily, looking at her. He clutched his fork and rested his chin on the top of his hand. “You're welcome to help out with the cooking if you don't like the menu. Feel free to do some work around the house if you don't feel we're living up to your high standards.”

“It's a chicken and rice casserole,” Nita said, frowning at Jimmy Lee. He scowled and looked at his plate. There was a lot of tension between him and Whitney lately.

“Grandmother has a cook,” Whitney said, trailing her fork around her plate but not putting anything in her mouth.

“Well, bully for grandmother,” Jimmy Lee said.

“Pass the biscuits,” Nita said to Logan.

“If I was married to one of the richest men in Georgia, I guess I'd have a cook, too,” Jimmy Lee said bitterly.

“Well, technically, you have a cook,” Nita reminded him, pointing to the chicken casserole. She wished he'd figure out some way to knock the chip off his shoulder.

“I like it, Mom,” Logan said, spooning out a second helping of casserole. “It's good.”

Nita smiled at him. “Thanks, honey,” she said.

Whitney put her hand on her hip and looked at her mother. “Is that true?” she said. “Is Grandmother married to one of the richest men in Georgia?”

Later, helping her clean up after dinner, Jimmy Lee came up behind her at the sink and put his arms around her, nuzzling her ear. “Sorry about being an asshole,” he said.

She turned her head and kissed him. “Were you being an asshole?” she said. “I didn't notice.”

“It was really good,” he said. “The casserole.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her rubber gloves off and then turned around and slid her hands into his back pockets. “Look,” she said in a quiet voice. “It's going to take some adjusting. But it'll work out.”

He frowned and smoothed her hair off her face. “It's just that, sometimes I feel like she's criticizing me.”

“She's twelve years old. She criticizes everybody.”

“I can't give her the things her father can give her. The things her grandmother can give her.”

Nita laughed. “No one's asking you to,” she said. “You're the one putting pressure on yourself. I told you. Material things are just things. They're not important. None of that matters.”

Jimmy Lee humped his shoulders and stared out the window. “It matters to me,” he said.

She kissed him and then turned again to the sink, leaving it at that. Between going to school, working on her paper, and trying to keep the family together, she was too tired to argue. She picked up the rubber gloves. He reached around her, and took the sponge and the gloves away from her.

“Go sit down, Mrs. Motes,” he said. “I'll finish this.”

LATER HE CAME INTO THE BEDROOM WHERE NITA WAS WORKING on her paper. She had given it to Professor Limerick, who had edited it and given it back to her for revision. He had agreed to meet with her tomorrow morning to review it one more time before she submitted it to the Journal of Southern Historical Perspective. She had worked on the paper feverishly over the past few days. Laundry piled up in the laundry room. Dishes stacked up on the kitchen counter. Beds went unmade.

Jimmy Lee closed the door softly behind him. “We need to talk,” he said.

He never discussed money with her. What else could make him sound so serious? The only thing she could think of was that he meant to criticize her housekeeping ability. Or lack thereof. He stood quietly for a few minutes, running his fingers through his dark hair. Down the hall she could hear Logan playing video games in the den.

“Look,” she said. “I know I'm a little behind with the housework. But I'm trying to get this paper finished, and once it is, we'll get back on a regular routine. I promise.”

“No, no, it's not that,” he said.

She sat on the bed with one leg drawn up beneath her. She closed her laptop and dropped both hands into her lap, waiting.

“I have an opportunity to go into business with someone,” he said, picking his words carefully. “On a development project out on the river. It's the kind of thing where I really think I can make some money, some good money.” His voice shook with excitement, or nervousness, she wasn't sure which. Maybe both. “I haven't done any development deals, of course, so it's a stretch for me, but I really think I can do it.” He looked at her. There was color in his cheeks and along the dark ridge of jaw just above his throat. “Honey, it's the opportunity I've been waiting for. I know it in my heart.”

Nita shrugged, relieved that this wasn't about her bad housekeeping. “Well, if you think it's what you want to do, then go for it.”

His eyes widened. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

He slid his hands into his front pockets. He bumped the toe of his boot against the leg of the dresser. “There's only one problem.”

“Oh?” She had already opened her laptop and pulled up the screen.

“I need money.”

She reread the last paragraph again, and decided it wasn't right. “Talk to the bank,” she said.

“I did. They say I don't have enough collateral.”

She pushed the laptop away and looked at him. The table lamp glowed, washing the cypress-paneled walls with a warm light.

“How much?”

He told her. Down the hallway, Logan took on the entire Japanese army. The sound of machine-gun and mortar fire ricocheted down the narrow hallway. She looked down at her hands and thought, I have college. I have this paper. He should have something. She spread her hands in her lap. “If I put the money up for collateral, will the bank give you the loan?”

He looked worried. “Maybe,” he said. “But they want to take a look at the deal first. It'd be easier if I just borrowed the money from you.”

She shrugged. “Look,” she said. “If it's what you want to do, just go for it.”

The tension drained out of his shoulders. He sat down on the bed and put his arms around her. “I've got the prospectus,” he said. She could hear a tremor in his voice. His mouth was warm against her hair. “You can read it and you'll see I'm right. It's the deal of a lifetime, honey.”

She pulled away and patted his cheek playfully. “If you say so. But I don't want to read it. I don't have time. I've got to get this paper finished before I lose my mind.” She nodded at the laptop.

“You won't be sorry,” he said, letting her go. He stood up and put both hands on her shoulders. “I won't need the money for very long. Just until the first five or six lots sell and then I'll be able to pay you back. You can charge me interest,” he said. “More than you were getting at the bank.”

She tilted her head back and looked at him. “Don't be ridiculous,” she said.

All the way to Professor Limerick's office the next morning, she thought about how happy Jimmy Lee had been this morning, how he'd gone around the house whistling and joking with the kids, just like when they first lived together. She had left him happily going over a plat that was spread out over the kitchen table. Culpepper Development Company, the plat read in one corner.

Nita didn't know any Culpeppers but she hoped whoever it was would realize Jimmy Lee's trustworthiness, and treat him accordingly.