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color photo. “Pecan Creek loves its Christmas season.”
    “Yeah, what else is there to do in a small town? You gotta love the fat man and the dead man, or you don’t have a holiday.”
    Sugar drew back from her sister. “Lucy!”
    “What? I’m just saying. Holidays are about fairy tales, aren’t they?”
    Sugar sighed. “I’m going to bed.”
    Lucy snapped the book shut. “I’m going into town to check on Maggie.”
    “Why?” Sugar looked at her sister as she jumped to her feet and shoved the photo album back into the cabinet.
    “Because I’m afraid, that’s why. I don’t trust Jake. I don’t know why he’s sticking Maggie with being mayor, but I’ve never heard of a small town electing a woman they’ve only known for a few days with the job unless there’s a problem.”
    Sugar got to her feet, slightly alarmed. “Maggie can take care of herself.”
    “Can she?” Lucy began clopping down the wooden stairs. “Do we want to find out?”
    Sugar hesitated. Lucy didn’t trust anyone. Jake seemed nice enough to her. Maggie liked him; she’d said so.
    Then again, Lucy had a point. It wouldn’t hurt to tag along so Maggie wouldn’t feel like Lucy was being overprotective. They could say that they’d simply come to meet some of the folks in the town, and thank Jake’s mom for the delicious apple pie.
    It really hadn’t been that good. Sugar thought Mrs. Bentley had bought the pie at a bakery and put it on her own disposable plate with a doily before abandoning it on their doorstep with a cursory welcome note.
    “I’ll go with you,” Sugar said, fast on Lucy’s heels.

Chapter Three
    Vivian Bentley was the soul of poker face, Southern charm and impeccable good manners.
    She was also, Sugar thought, like a mannequin who’d been left unattended too long. Stiff. Cold. Unbending.
    Sugar and Lucy watched from the back of the old courthouse, which appeared to house a few jail cells, this gathering room and probably the catacombs of Pecan Creek. Lucy had simply looked on the town square for Jake’s black truck, and from there it was easy to follow the lights and the sound of voices. Maggie sat upright like she was at an interrogation. Jake’s mother—it had to be Vivian; none of the other three ladies had the ramrod formal, elegant bearing Sugar recognized from the photo album—stared at Maggie with little warmth.
    “Maggie has generously offered to be our mayor,” Jake said, and Sugar strained to listen. “Since we’re looking for a figurehead mayor, so to speak, I present Ms. Maggie Cassavechia to the town council for consideration.”
    “Really, Jake,” Vivian said, “you don’t want to burden our newcomer with town duties right away.” Vivian’s smile stretched at Maggie, who looked back at her, transfixed like she was in front of a cobra. Even from fifty paces back, Sugar could tell the smile masked annoyance.
    “We don’t really need a mayor, do we?” another gray-haired woman asked.
    “Although I’m sure you’d do a lovely job, Maggie,” a lady said. Her sweet face was bright in the unforgiving lights of the courthouse room.
    “I think Maggie would make a fabulous mayor for us.” An older lady with a tall hairdo and starched clothes pinned Vivian with a meaningful gaze. “Peachy idea, Vivian. We owe you a debt of gratitude, Maggie, for agreeing to this. Welcome to Pecan Creek.”
    Vivian seemed to sit straighter in her blue shirtwaist dress. Sugar was fairly certain Jake’s mother was faking her charm school diploma right now. She smiled syrupy-sweet at her son. “We’ll certainly give it some thought. Maggie, can we offer you some coffee?”
    “Maybe with a little strychnine in it?” Lucy hissed in Sugar’s ear.
    “You should come to our Bible meetings on Sunday mornings,” the tall woman said, “and we have a book chat on Wednesday night. We’d love to have you join us.”
    There was definitely a power struggle being waged, but Sugar couldn’t tell who was on