Not So New in Town Read Online Free PDF

call home.
    “He married Bertie Anderson, and she’s gorgeous, with a heart of gold. They don’t come much sweeter. And they were married before she got pregnant,” Brogan explained, smiling.
    Javier’s brown Gucci loafer nudged Brogan’s foot. “Any more choice gals left in town, or did Keith snag the last one?”
    Lucy Doolan’s silky straight hair popped into his head, along with her clingy tank top that molded to her curves. And her gray eyes, with their exotic tilt at the corners, snapping as she slung her barbs. He doubted she’d be categorized as blazing, but only because Javier didn’t know her like he did. All right, maybe knowing her was a stretch. He remembered her, but didn’t really know her now. He planned to change that. Sooner rather than later.
    The bell over the glass front door tinkled, and Brogan glanced up to see a metal walker push through the entrance with Ethel Cornwaddle shuffling behind it. He jumped up to assist her before the heavy glass door knocked her down.
    “Hey, Miz Cornwaddle. How you doing?” he asked as he gripped a bony elbow beneath her lavender cotton housecoat covered in yellow daisies.
    “I’m breathing. That makes it a banner day!” His sixth-grade teacher smiled, revealing loose dentures.
    “You’re looking mighty pretty all covered in daisies and”—his gaze traveled down to orthopedic knee-highs and beat-up combat boots—“and those…comfortable boots.”
    “Don’t waste those sweet words on this old geezer. You always were a charmer.” She stared at him through watery blue eyes. “How come you’re not married? A good-looking boy like you. Is it true you came home to do right by Julia? I never did understand why y’all couldn’t iron out your differences.” Ethel’s frizzy gray hair moved like dandelions in the wind as she shook her head. She shuffled toward the stainless steel racks holding organic chips. “You got any pork rinds? I’ve been to the Piggly Wiggly and Toot-N-Tell, and they’re all out.”
    Pork rinds? Brogan’s stomach lurched as he almost stumbled over the yellow tennis balls covering the front feet of her walker. Growing up, he remembered how that had been a favorite snack among the older locals, but he and his mom had never developed a taste for them. Even Lucy had turned up her nose at pork rinds in the lunchroom vending machine. A smile curled his lips as interesting ways of reforming Lucy crossed his mind. And they didn’t all include food.
    “No, ma’am. They’re not exactly organic…uh, why don’t you try these popped chips? They come in lots of different flavors.” He reached for a smoky-bacon-flavored bag.
    “Hmmm, I don’t know. I don’t like to buy something I’ve never tried before. What if I don’t like them? Can I bring them back?”
    Brogan repressed a groan. “Absolutely. You give them a try, and if you don’t like them as much as pork rinds, you can bring them back, and I’ll give you”—he wanted to say store credit, until he felt that teacher’s eagle-eyed stare leveled at him—“a refund. Will that be okay?”
    “That’d be fine.”
    Brogan helped her to the register where his part-time high school clerk stood texting on her iPhone. “Bailey, please ring Miz Cornwaddle up.”
    Pop went her pink bubble gum. “Sure,” Bailey said as she scanned the bar code.
    “And what about that boy?” Ethel asked. “I know he’s not yours, because I can count. I didn’t teach sixth-grade math for forty years for nothing.”
    Ethel was referring to Julia’s fifteen-year-old son, Parker. At least Ethel could add and knew the kid wasn’t his. Julia had gotten pregnant eight months after he’d already left town.
    “Your mama, God rest her soul, was so heartbroken when you skipped town.” Skipped town? Hardly. He’d left for college like any normal high school graduate. Ethel stuffed her coins inside her orange plastic change purse and snapped it shut. “Poor Charlotte. She never got over your