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mirror to investigate the status of her short white curls. The do reminded her of the style sported by the former governor of Texas, Ann Richards: high, tight, and white.
    The nurse patted her own ash-colored coiffure. “Give Mary Jo a call over at the Curl ’n Swirl. She might be able to fit her into the schedule on short notice.”
    “Thanks, I’ll do that.” She danced a half circle with Steve Ann, laughing as they rearranged themselves in the tiny entry.
    “Granny has a grocery list for me, so I’d better get going.” The intense heat of midmorning blasted her in the face as she stepped out onto the carpet of turf-like grass on the porch.
    Steve Ann lingered at the glass door, a frown marring her pleasant face. “Hon, is that what you’re wearing to the IGA?”
    Lila looked down at her short silk skirt and matching blouse. She’d chosen it specifically for its neutral color and breezy fabric. “Is there something wrong with it?”
    The nurse pursed her lips, her hands planted on generous hips. “Well, not particularly, unless you want to make Janie Armstrong green with envy. Otherwise, it’s a little much for the grocery.”
    “Oh.” Lila’s shoulders drooped and she slipped back inside. As she squeezed past Steve Ann, she managed to mumble, “Thanks. It’s been a while.”
    “No problem, hon. We’ll get you…ah, reassimilated in no time.”
    “Right.”
    Dressed once again, this time in denim shorts, sandals, and a white T-shirt, Lila plunged into the heat, crumpled shopping list in hand. The walk to the town square flew by as she reacquainted herself with once-familiar landmarks.
    The Bell County Courthouse dominated the square with its Renaissance Revival style and bold, boxy lines. Lila took in the restored dome and clock tower, missing from the grand white structure since the 1930s. It made the building seem complete finally, and she suddenly realized how lacking it had truly been all those years she was growing up.
    On the east side of the square stood the Book Nook, directly next door to Melinda’s Kitchen, both new businesses she didn’t know. On the west side, the Farmer’s Bank—been there for years—and on the north side, the Curl ’n Swirl, an old favorite with the retired set.
    A large white sign on the south-facing building caught her eye. Stepping across the street and into the shade of the veranda, she read the sign on Mr. Goodwin’s General Store.
    Demolition Notice. Typical verbiage. Blah, blah, blah. Except no public hearing or committee meeting. No information on who filed the application for demolition. And certainly no notice regarding the historic status of the building.
    Miss Pru’s.
    This was the place. And it appeared her Granny was right. Someone had it in for the building and they were willing to violate city policy and procedure to get rid of the thing.
    She stepped off the sidewalk and backed into the street for a full view. The four bay windows of the upper story were boarded over. The four windows flanking the bay, two on each side, were open, but the leaded glass had seen better days. Paint flaked away from the masonry brick, and the rigid aluminum canopy, bisecting the smaller overhead transom windows from the large store windows, sagged with weather damage in several places.
    Nothing that couldn’t be salvaged and restored. Though that opinion was based on a cursory exterior inspection. She had no idea what the interior was like.
    Lila remembered the storefront from her childhood. Mr. Goodwin, a kind old widower, had sold candy, sodas, and good memories to the children of Hannington. She’d savored many a Coke float inside those four walls while mooning over a certain football player.
    Now the city wanted to demolish it. She couldn’t let that happen. Not when she knew it once belonged to her family and might be housing yet more secrets of Prudence MacIntosh.
    If she could buy it before the thirty days were up.
    She climbed the concrete sidewalk again and