“At my age, I have to work at being beautiful. Unlike you.” Her tone was gently teasing. “My, how your hair shines in the morning light, Mary Beth. That natural red blond is just so pretty.”

“Yours too,” Mary Beth said loyally.

“Maybe it was something like your color back in the day,” Alma laughed. “I honestly don’t remember the exact shade.”

She tightened the sash of her ankle-length robe, a chenille wrap that looked super comfortable. There was a distant sound of happy woofing.

“Should I let them in?” Mary Beth asked.

“Hell no. I just let them out,” Alma said. “I prefer to have my coffee and muffin without being stared at by hungry eyes. And yes, I fed them.” She walked over to a double set of windows and pulled the cord to open the curtains. “There’s the porch. It’s a beautiful day. Did the sun wake you up?”

“Pretty much. But I slept well.”

“That’s good. I’ll tell Sheila. She likes people to be comfortable.”

“I can tell her myself.”

“She’s not here.” Alma poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table. “Last night she decided to drive out early and give Bud a hand with unpacking and whatnot. She invited us, of course, but I just wasn’t up for wandering around a big flea market. You could still go.”

Left unsaid was that Alma preferred not to be alone if she could help it. Mary Beth didn’t press the point. She was grateful to stay right here. Besides, she was curious about the town of Brickell, which she still hadn’t seen.

“Aren’t you going to give me the grand tour?”

Alma put a level teaspoon of sugar into her coffee and stirred it slowly, adding a dash of half-and-half. “I guess I could do that,” she said in a measured voice.

There wasn’t much to see in Brickell, but Mary Beth and Alma were enjoying themselves. They drove down the main street, looking at retail establishments.

The town was too small to have been taken over by chain stores. Mary Beth guessed that the shops were locally owned. Everything seemed to be lovingly maintained and there were wrought-iron benches along the sidewalk, set between planters filled with flowers. Brickell had kept its charm.

“There’s the gift shop,” Alma said. “I want to pick up something for Sheila but we can do that later. And there’s the tea parlor. Hasn’t changed a bit.”

Mary Beth could see white chairs and tables through the window. A collection of china teapots adorned the low inside sill.

“It’s pretty.”

“Yes. And—oh, I remember that restaurant,” Alma said, turning her head. “It used to be called something else. But it always had those rambler roses. Aren’t they glorious?”