Georgia on Her Mind by Rachel Hauck Read Free Book Online

meet your friends.”
    I’m confident now that she knows something is wrong, but isn’t sure how to get it out of me. She’s chipping at the wall hoping to find the crack.
    “Maybe.” I refuse to crack and continue munching on my ice.
    The conversation takes a detour down a side country road. We talk easily back and forth about life in general and I avoid details about my life in Melbourne.
    Dad picks up the check, leaves Sarah Beth a healthy tip and waves at Freda. Everyone, it seems, knows everyone in Beauty.
    At home Dad carries my suitcase up to my old room. It looks exactly the way it did the day I left for college, the day I came home from college and the day I ran away to Florida.
    Flopping onto the bed, I close my eyes, pretending I’m sixteen again and the world is still my oyster.
    “How’s the old room feel?”
    I lift my head to see Dad leaning against the door frame. “Peaceful.”
    He chuckles. “You couldn’t wait to get outa this room, as I recall.”
    “I felt pinned up in this town like I’d never been anywhere but north and south Georgia.” I stare at the ceiling while reminiscing out loud.
    “I was teaching you the ropes of the gourmet sauce business when Lucy called to say she’d read in the paper that Casper & Company was hiring.”
    “I ran home to pack.”
    Dad juts out his chin. “Right in the middle of my riveting account of how we bottle the sauce.”
    I lift my head. “Sorry about that.”
    He laughs, giving me the Father Knows Best eye. I hug one of the many pillows on my bed. “It worked out well, don’t you think?” Until now, but I leave that part out.
    “That it did.”
    Dad steps inside my room and straddles my desk chair. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
    “Nothing’s going on.” I scoot against the headboard and hide behind the pillow. Is saying “nothing” a lie? I don’t want to lie.
    I realize I’m doomed. With Mom zeroing in on Chris issues and Dad snooping around with questions about Casper, I just might crack Humpty Dumpty-style. Calling all the king’s men.
    He pats the chair rungs. “I can still see you bumping down the stairs with, what, five or six suitcases, ready to move to Florida.” He skips the palm of one hand over the other. “Vroom!”
    The idea of running away from home at the ripe old age oftwenty-three sounds silly. But, oh, how desperate I was to bust out of Beauty and move out from under the shadow of the Moore family, and the legend of my third-grade Christmas solo.
    Dad regards me for a moment. “Mrs. Riley still mentions your solo. She insists there hasn’t been another one like you.”
    Can he hear my thoughts? “Yeah, I broke the mold.” How does she remember that night? If I were Scrooge, Mrs. Riley would be my Ghost of Christmas Past.
    Look, Macy Moore, look. There you are, singing your Christmas solo, “Away in a Manger.” Such a sweet child.
    I shake the image from my head. It gives me the willies. I sang off-key for fifteen minutes because every time the crowd applauded, I started the song all over again.
    “So, how’s business?” I ask.
    “Rhine Flagstone of The Food Connection is featuring our new barbecue on his show.”
    “No kidding! Big time, Dad.” In fact, it’s huge. Good for Moore Gourmet Sauces.
    “We’re talking with QVC, too.” He lifts a brow and waits for my reaction.
    I love QVC. He knows it. Lisa Robertson is my favorite host. She could sell me a box of melted crayons and leave me with the notion I got a good deal.
    But I give him a moderate reply. “QVC, eh? Interesting.” My heart palpitates.
    “Yep. You know, there’s room for family….”
    “How’d you manage to get in with Rhine Flagstone?” I ignore his thinly veiled hint.
    I’m not ready to jump my corporate cruise ship for a dinghy in the middle of the Atlantic. Dad has a great business, sure, but I pined for years to get a life out of Beauty—I can’t imagine returning. It’d be like double-crossing myself. And