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dropping it in a trashcan. “Maybe when she was twelve. In case you haven’t noticed, that’s no longer true.”
    “Did she say something to you?”
    “She didn’t have to.”
    “Oh, you’re a mind reader now?”
    “A mother senses these things.”
    That statement alone was enough to send Bobby Jack off on a tangent. “I advise you not to go there, Priscilla.”
    Her blue eyes narrowed. “I know what kind of mother you think I am, Bobby Jack. But Andy is my daughter. And I do love her. Whether you like it or not.”
    “Since when do loving mothers run off and leave their baby?”
    Priscilla made a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief. “You cannot let it go, can you?”
    “Actually, no, I can’t. I don’t see why I should have to. You’re the one who made the choices you made, Priscilla. Nobody forced you to leave and spend the next eleven years pretending you were still a teenager.”
    “People get divorced every day,” she said, her voice heating up. “And people find a way to make it work. But not you, Bobby Jack! You’re so all-fired convinced that you’ve been wronged, you let that bitterness eat away at you a little more each day. Pretty soon, there’s not going to be anything even recognizable of the old you left. You’re just going to be this dried up old fart who rides around with a hound in the front seat of his truck instead of a woman!”
    “I didn’t come over here to rehash our history,” he cut her off in a sharp voice. “I came over to tell you to quit filling Andy’s head with nonsense!”
    “First of all, I don’t take orders from you. And second of all, she doesn’t see it as nonsense. Did you ever think she might want to know that you believe in her, Bobby Jack?”
    “I do believe in her. I believe she can do great things with her life. And that’s what I want for her.”
    “As long as those things fall under your definition of great, right?”
    He started to answer, then stopped. He didn’t have to listen to this crap from the woman who had conveniently dropped him and their daughter three years into their marriage, as if they were yesterday’s old newspapers. “You know what, Priscilla? This was a complete waste of time. As talking to you always is.”
    Flo got up and trotted after Bobby Jack just as Priscilla threw out, “Come on back again when you don’t have such a bee in your bonnet. You could use a good hair cut!”

 
     
    The state of your closet is a direct indicator of the state of your life. Trousers mixed in with dresses? Summer clothes mixed with winter?A shoe missing in action?If this sounds familiar, it’s a good bet chaos is ruling outside the closet as well.
    Grier McAllister - Blog at Jane Austen Girl

CHAPTER THREE
     
    By the time Marty towed Grier’s car into the garage, it was almost four-thirty, and she’d all but wilted from the events of the afternoon. Even Sebbie drooped and showed definite signs of needing a nap.
    Amy had reserved a room for her at the Mockingbird Inn where the selection process would take place. The ever-accommodating Marty drove them over in the tow truck and dropped them at the front with a promise to have Grier’s car up and running again by tomorrow. He’d recommended giving it a check-up just to be safe.
    With Sebbie at her side, she rolled her suitcase into the small lobby and headed for the registration desk. A friendly young man with slightly bucked teeth checked them in, the name Beaner Purdy stitched across the pocket of his burgundy uniform.
    “I believe you’re here for the Jane Austen Girl auditions, aren’t you, ma’am?” he asked, smiling a big blinding smile.
    “Yes,” she said, following along with Sebbie as Beaner pulled her suitcase to the elevator.
    “It’s got the whole town buzzin’.”
    “I hope that means we’ll have a good turnout for the auditions then.”
    “Oh, yes, ma’am. I expect you’ll fill the place up. My sister, Edith? She’s a shoe-in for your makeover. If it