we’ll go to the Country Junction. The people who run it renovated one of the old sandwich shops that had been closed for years. You’re in for a treat.”
As they drove away from Fort Hill, Willow sat close to Connor on the seat of his Ford truck. “When are you going to get a new truck?”
“Why? What’s wrong with this one?”
“To begin with, it’s old.”
“Yeah, but it’s not worn out. I’ve got only 200,000 miles on it.” Connor laughed and added, “It’ll surely run another 100,000 miles before I have to change the oil.”
“Connor, I don’t doubt that, but I know you can afford to upgrade every four or five years.”
“Yes, I could. Your father’s towing business has provided very well for me.”
“Connor, you’ve worked for Daddy for over thirty-five years. You’ve helped him when I failed and you’ve kept the business moving forward after Daddy’s health failed. So, I think we need to add another name to the family business. It should read ‘McKenzie and Peppler Towing.’”
“Willow, I wouldn’t dare change that name. It’s synonymous with a tradition like no other on the river. This is your father’s company 100 percent.”
Willow’s voice softened and she placed her hand on his arm. “Connor, dearest, it’s great to be home and hear your smooth, sweet Southern voice. This is where I want to spend the rest of my life. Just you and me up on Fort Hill.”
“I guess I’m a bit sensitive about my accent. Most Yankees think we’re dumb.”
“That’s true, but not this Southern gal. I have lost some of my accent but I want to find it again.”
Willow slid closer to Connor, placed one warm hand on the inside of his leg and the other arm across the back of the seat, carefully stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you, darling.”
Connor smiled sideways at Willow as she slid away.
“Are you trying to wreck us?”
“No, darling,” she said.
Is she mocking me, he wondered?
“I’m just feeling warm and amorous at the moment.”
“Well, cool it for a while. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you call Woody and invite him to join us? He’ll be surprised to hear your voice.”
“I’ll do that. Do you have his cell number?”
Pulling a small notepad out of his shirt pocket, he said, “Yeah—601-555-5299.”
The phone rang twice before Woody answered.
“Woody, how may I help you?”
“Woody, this is Willow.”
“Willow? What a surprise. What’s going on?”
“I’m in Vicksburg. How about meeting me and Connor for lunch?”
“That would be great. Where?”
“Connor tells me the Country Junction has great barbecue.”
“Country Junction, huh? That’s an excellent choice if you like barbecue.”
“Woody, I’ve been gone for a long time, but haven’t lost my taste for good ole barbecue.”
“What time?”
“We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. How does that sound?”
“Super. I’ve got a favorite table in the back. If you beat me there, just tell the waitress, “Woody’s table.” She’ll know where to seat you.”
“Cuz, I’m looking forward to seeing you and sharing some exciting news.”
“Fine. See you shortly.”
As the pickup rumbled past the National Park Service entrance toward Cherry Street, Willow was looking forward to seeing her cousin, Woody McKenzie. When they were students at Mississippi State University, they never missed a home football or basketball game. Willow played on the varsity soccer team and starred as a goalie. Woody never missed one of her home games. He was more like a brother than a cousin to her. Connor, on the other hand, rarely attended any sporting events.
Connor pressed the accelerator as the pickup ascended the hill that is the northern extension of Cherry Street. At the top of the hill is the “Devil’s Backbone,” a rugged broad ridge that extends about 100 yards from the western edge of the paved road and precipitously drops off toward Historic Highway
As they drove away from Fort Hill, Willow sat close to Connor on the seat of his Ford truck. “When are you going to get a new truck?”
“Why? What’s wrong with this one?”
“To begin with, it’s old.”
“Yeah, but it’s not worn out. I’ve got only 200,000 miles on it.” Connor laughed and added, “It’ll surely run another 100,000 miles before I have to change the oil.”
“Connor, I don’t doubt that, but I know you can afford to upgrade every four or five years.”
“Yes, I could. Your father’s towing business has provided very well for me.”
“Connor, you’ve worked for Daddy for over thirty-five years. You’ve helped him when I failed and you’ve kept the business moving forward after Daddy’s health failed. So, I think we need to add another name to the family business. It should read ‘McKenzie and Peppler Towing.’”
“Willow, I wouldn’t dare change that name. It’s synonymous with a tradition like no other on the river. This is your father’s company 100 percent.”
Willow’s voice softened and she placed her hand on his arm. “Connor, dearest, it’s great to be home and hear your smooth, sweet Southern voice. This is where I want to spend the rest of my life. Just you and me up on Fort Hill.”
“I guess I’m a bit sensitive about my accent. Most Yankees think we’re dumb.”
“That’s true, but not this Southern gal. I have lost some of my accent but I want to find it again.”
Willow slid closer to Connor, placed one warm hand on the inside of his leg and the other arm across the back of the seat, carefully stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you, darling.”
Connor smiled sideways at Willow as she slid away.
“Are you trying to wreck us?”
“No, darling,” she said.
Is she mocking me, he wondered?
“I’m just feeling warm and amorous at the moment.”
“Well, cool it for a while. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you call Woody and invite him to join us? He’ll be surprised to hear your voice.”
“I’ll do that. Do you have his cell number?”
Pulling a small notepad out of his shirt pocket, he said, “Yeah—601-555-5299.”
The phone rang twice before Woody answered.
“Woody, how may I help you?”
“Woody, this is Willow.”
“Willow? What a surprise. What’s going on?”
“I’m in Vicksburg. How about meeting me and Connor for lunch?”
“That would be great. Where?”
“Connor tells me the Country Junction has great barbecue.”
“Country Junction, huh? That’s an excellent choice if you like barbecue.”
“Woody, I’ve been gone for a long time, but haven’t lost my taste for good ole barbecue.”
“What time?”
“We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. How does that sound?”
“Super. I’ve got a favorite table in the back. If you beat me there, just tell the waitress, “Woody’s table.” She’ll know where to seat you.”
“Cuz, I’m looking forward to seeing you and sharing some exciting news.”
“Fine. See you shortly.”
As the pickup rumbled past the National Park Service entrance toward Cherry Street, Willow was looking forward to seeing her cousin, Woody McKenzie. When they were students at Mississippi State University, they never missed a home football or basketball game. Willow played on the varsity soccer team and starred as a goalie. Woody never missed one of her home games. He was more like a brother than a cousin to her. Connor, on the other hand, rarely attended any sporting events.
Connor pressed the accelerator as the pickup ascended the hill that is the northern extension of Cherry Street. At the top of the hill is the “Devil’s Backbone,” a rugged broad ridge that extends about 100 yards from the western edge of the paved road and precipitously drops off toward Historic Highway
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