Miss Dreamsville and the Lost Heiress of Collier County Read Online Free PDF Page B

grown-up.”
    â€œWell, then, call me Miss Dora,” I said.
    Judd frowned. I guess that was too Southern.
    â€œWell,” I prompted him, “what is it you want to tell me?” I tried to hide the nervousness from my voice. “Is it about allthis business with my former husband and the development he wants to build?”
    â€œNo, not that,” Judd said. “I just wanted to warn you that when you see my mom, she’ll look a little, um, different.”
    All I could think of was that maybe Jackie had changed her hair, or gained weight.
    Judd looked away. “She’ll be wearing black,” he mumbled.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBlack. You know, mourning clothes.”
    â€œOh, Judd! Someone in your family went to Glory? No one told me! I’m so sorry! Who was it?” My heart went into a tailspin of pity and sorrow. Poor Jackie!
    â€œWell, no one in our . . . family.” Judd looked miserable.
    â€œThen . . . who?” I asked.
    â€œPresident Kennedy.”
    Hmmm. Jackie had been wearing mourning clothes—for President Kennedy? Since the previous November? In three months it would be a year. I had figured she took it hard but I didn’t think she would carry on this long.
    â€œShe says she’s going to wear them for one year and a day,” Judd went on. “I just didn’t want you to be surprised.”
    â€œJudd, let me ask you something, and it might seem like a silly question,” I said. “You know I’ve never been up north. What I want to know is, is this something all Yankees do?” In my head, I was picturing everyone in Boston walking around in black.
    â€œNope,” Judd said. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure she’s the only one in America, other than the Kennedy family, of course. This is just Mom being Mom.”
    â€œOh,” I said, at a loss for words. So wearing black for a year, for a president not everyone liked (especially in the South), would be considered odd even in Boston. There were times likethis when I got a hint that Jackie was over the top even for a Yankee. “Well,” I said, finally finding my voice, “as the saying goes, ‘To each his own.’ ”
    Judd suddenly seemed defensive. “I guess with her being from Boston and all, and she’s such a fan of Mrs. Kennedy, and all that . . .” His voice trailed off. He tried to grin but it came off as a lame little smile, so he shrugged instead. “I didn’t want you to be, you know, caught off guard. Because when I told her I’d heard you were back in town, she ran to get dressed and I know she’s headed over here any minute now.”
    We’d run out of melon strips to give the turtles. Castro and Myrtle had gone into the shrubs to take naps. Norma Jean was still begging for goodies. She stared at us and made munching movements with her mouth. “Yes, we see you, Norma Jean,” I said, laughing. It was hard to miss an Everglades snapping turtle the size of Mama’s divan.
    â€œYou know what, Judd?” I said. “You’ve done a fine job here, looking after my friends.”
    Judd beamed at my compliment. “I really mean that,” I added. “I wouldn’t have gone off to Mississippi if you hadn’t been here to take care of my turtles. And check on my little cottage. But everything looks swell. Did you have any problems?”
    â€œNo, ma’am,” he said, and I was pleased to hear the “ma’am” roll off his tongue, since a Boston boy wouldn’t survive down here for long if he didn’t learn the basics. Seems like he’d settled in fairly good.
    And then he asked me a question I didn’t know the answer to. “How long are you going to be back for?”
    â€œI don’t know, Judd.” I sighed before continuing. “I’ve still got something I need to do back in Mississippi. But