Not a chance of that. The honking horn she heard was all too familiar. She fought the temptation to slide down in her seat like a caught-in-the-act teenager. Her dad had stopped in front of Parr’s truck before it could move and was waving to them both.

Parr blew out a frustrated breath and put the truck in park. Then he rolled down his window to respond. “Hello there, Howard.”

“Thought I might find you here. Alma said to track you down.”

“What’s up?” Parr asked.

Her dad acted as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Mary Beth? Is that you?”

She sincerely hoped Parr hadn’t been seen with females her father didn’t know around the hospital or its parking lot. But she kept that thought to herself. “Yes, Daddy. Parr was just about to . . . take me home.”

“Oh. Okay, well, we could all meet there if you like. Your mama has come up with a plan and we need to discuss it.”

“Sure.” Parr’s amiable reply didn’t match the set of his jaw. “Lead the way.”

He followed Howard Caine’s sedan out of the lot without grumbling, not looking at her or even talking.

Mary Beth saw to everything once the three of them were inside the Caine house, using her grandmother’s best platter to carry sandwiches into the dining room, prewrapped and stone cold. Her father bought them at the megastore by the dozen and basically subsisted on them, still not having time to ever cook.

The two men sat down at the table, which gave off a faint, pleasant smell of lemon oil even though no one had used it for weeks. She went back into the kitchen for lemonade in a pitcher and fancy cookies still in the box, and the basket that was kept stocked with paper plates and napkins and plastic cups. Mary Beth figured that under the circumstances she’d more than met the sacred requirements of southern hospitality. If any of her great-great ancestors wanted to turn over in their graves at such an informal meal served in a real dining room, they were free to do so.

“Thanks, honey,” her dad said. “Give a shout next time for some help.”

“Everything was right where I needed it,” she said, sitting down next to him. Cool and calm, she met Parr’s eyes.

His big hands were clasped together on the highly polished table, which reflected his face above them. Even with the buffer of her father’s presence in the room, Parr’s gaze unsettled her.

Howard indicated the platter with a generous wave of his hand. “Help yourself, Parr. Have two. Have three. Mary Beth won’t touch ’em and I’m sick of ’em.”

She shot him a sideways look. “That’s not very gracious of you, Daddy.”

He chuckled. “No sense pretending, is there? It’s not like any of us has had the time for all that.”