His smile disappeared.
“Even if you don’t.”
He leaned forward.
“Lady, I have never set foot in Cedar Bend.”
From behind them came a voice.
“Whatever that is, delete it.”
Briella.
She had been recording something on Dax’s phone.
Nadine looked toward Wes.
“Did you get that?”
He held up his own phone.
“Already saved.”
Dax stepped toward him.
Wes didn’t move.
“They took my badge.”
He smiled.
“They didn’t take my truck.”
Dax walked away.
Nadine looked at Wes.
“You lost your spot because of me.”
He shrugged.
“I lost a vest.”
He pointed toward an old photograph of Pruitt’s Pit.
“You lost a restaurant.”
That evening, rain moved over the fairgrounds.
Nadine rushed to protect the notebook.
Too late.
A leak in the canopy sent water across several pages.
Ink began running.
Maya gasped.
“Is it ruined?”
Nadine stared at the blurred handwriting.
Her heart broke a little.
Then she remembered something Lou used to say.
She touched one faded page.
“Ink runs.”
Maya looked up.
“Words stay.”
“What did Granny say?”
Nadine smiled.
“Salt it like you mean it.”
Wes added wood to the fire.
“And?”
“Wait like you love it.”
Maya sat in a folding chair.
“How long do we wait?”
Nadine closed the smoker.
“Till sunrise.”
The three of them sat beside Pit 41 while rain drummed against the canopy.
Maya eventually fell asleep against her mother.
Wes looked at Nadine.
“Why did Lou let a stranger like Dax into her pit?”
Nadine watched the smoke.
“She let everybody in.”
“Why?”
“That was the whole recipe.”
Wes smiled.
Not coffee.
Not peach.
Not post oak.
Feed everybody.
Maybe Dax had copied everything except the most important ingredient.
At sunrise, an elderly man stopped beside Pit 41.
He wore a faded ranch jacket and walked with a cane.
He stared at Nadine’s coat.
“Is that Lou Pruitt’s jacket?”
Nadine looked down.
“Yes.”
“Her granddaughter wears it now?”
“Yes, sir.”
He touched the edge of the homemade smoker.
“Same barrel steel.”
“My own welds.”
The man smiled.
“I ate at her counter years ago.”
His eyes became wet.
“Best plate of my life.”
Across the lane, Dax watched.
Then he came over.
“Last offer.”
Nadine did not look up.
“Hand me that diary and you can wash dishes on my show.”
Wes muttered something under his breath.
Nadine smiled.
“I already know who washed dishes in my grandmother’s kitchen.”
A few people nearby laughed.
Dax’s face hardened.
He walked toward Briella.
“Turn-in closes at noon.”
“I know.”
“Make sure her box shows up late.”
Briella stared at him.
“That’s a line.”
“Then cross it.”
She did not answer.
Dax stepped closer.
