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tight-lipped and tense since our flight back from Seattle—I figured he was pissed at me—but I heard him on the phone with someone talking about Regan Lovell. And not kindly.”
    “Oh, he’s pissed at you all right, but you’re only a small part of his troubles. Regan Lovell went and got herself elected mayor of Cottonbloom, Mississippi, last year.”
    Cade whistled low. No wonder Sawyer was walking around looking like the four riders of the apocalypse were nipping at his heels. Sawyer had dated the Mississippi beauty queen on the down low in high school. Her parents considered the Fournettes the worst sort of swamp rats—poor, orphaned, and without any decent connections. Their uncle Delmar certainly didn’t qualify.
    Sawyer had been forever borrowing Cade’s truck or boat to head upriver to her house. Cade assumed Regan got her thrills by sneaking around with Sawyer. Not long after Sawyer headed to LSU and Regan to Ole Miss, they’d broken up. Cade had been secretly glad the relationship was over. Some things weren’t meant to be, and Sawyer and Regan had been doomed.
    Monroe was leading the girls through some yoga-like stretches, her body contorting, her backside back in the air. He shifted on the seat and took a sip of Coke to wet his Sahara-like mouth.
    Tally’s voice penetrated his fog. “Word got around that Heart of Dixie was offering a magazine spread and funds for a big civic project to the best small-town festival in the South. Sawyer had already been chewing on the idea of a weekend-long block party, and the competition gave him reason enough to pull the trigger. Well, Regan did the same. Intentionally or not, the folks at Heart of Dixie stoked the fire by insisting the Louisiana and Mississippi festivals take place the same weekend.”
    The magazine’s ruthless streak didn’t surprise Cade. It was a business, and the rivalry would make excellent copy. “Please. Totally intentional. Our towns’ history isn’t a secret.”
    “Now we have Sawyer planning a crayfish festival and Regan planning a tomato festival, both for Labor Day weekend. Tensions are higher than I’ve seen them. Ms. Effie says this is what it was like right after the town divided.”
    “Ms. Effie?”
    “My neighbor. She’s part of the Quilting Bee.”
    The Quilting Bee was both a circle of ladies from both sides of the river and a store on the Mississippi side of River Street. The ladies had gathered there for as long as Cade could remember, making quilts for anyone in need and gossiping.
    “As you’d imagine, people are picking sides faster than fleas jumping off a drowning dog’s butt and Sawyer and Regan are locked in an epic battle of good versus evil.” This was the Tally he remembered—smart-mouthed and irreverent.
    “I’m not so sure I’d classify Regan as evil. She’s more a rich little spoiled girl wanting someone else’s plaything.”
    “How would you know? You haven’t been around in so long, she might have made a pact with the devil and sprouted horns.” The edge of bitterness in Tally’s voice drew his gaze off Monroe. His sister toyed with the end of her long, dark ponytail.
    He tamped down the urge to defend himself. “Who planted the flowers along the bank?”
    “Sawyer. Obsessed with them. He turns into a cranky old man if he catches someone stepping on them or, heaven forbid, picking one.”
    A well of emotion choked him, his words emerging as a near whisper. “They’re beautiful.”
    “He’s been after all the businesses along River Street to spruce up their storefronts, hoping once we draw some tourists in they’ll come back for … I don’t know why they’d come back actually.”
    “Old Rufus’s Meat and Three is amazing. Or at least it was a decade ago.”
    “It still is, although I’m pretty sure he’s using the same fry grease as he was when you took off.”
    Again, her jab hit below the belt. “Listen, Tally, you need to understand—”
    Monroe’s class broke up, and