Blue tucked the paper under her arm and followed Syl around the corner. A gold Impala sat parked on the opposite side of the street, and two women climbed out: Dean’s real estate agent, Monica Doyle; and a slender, middle-aged African American woman Syl quickly introduced as Penny Winters, the owner of Aunt Myrtle’s Attic, the town’s antique store.

“We’ve been trying to get you alone all week,” Syl said as the women gathered around. “But whenever you show up in town, she’s always around, so we decided to stake out the house before we went to church.”

“Everybody knows Nita has a fit if she doesn’t get her Sunday paper first thing.” Monica pulled a tissue from the navy and yellow Vera Bradley bag that matched her dressy blue suit. “You’re our last hope, Blue. You have to use your influence with her.”

“I don’t have any influence,” Blue said. “She can’t stand me.”

Penny fingered the gold cross at the neck of her red dress. “If that was true, she’d have gotten rid of you by now like she has everybody else.”

“It’s only been four days,” Blue replied.

“A record.” Monica gave her nose a delicate toot. “You have no idea how she runs over everybody.”

That was so not true.

“You have to convince Nita to support Garrison Grows.” Syl shoved her cat’s-eye glasses up on her nose. “It’s the only way we can save this town.”

Garrison Grows, Blue quickly learned, was the plan the city’s leaders had put together to revitalize the town.

“Tourists drive through here all the time on their way to the Smokies,” Monica said, “but there’s no decent restaurant, no lodging, hardly any shopping, and they never stop. If Nita will let us go ahead with Garrison Grows, we can change all that.”

Penny tugged on the small black button between her breasts. “With no national franchises here, we can take advantage of the nostalgia factor and make this place look like everybody’s memory of what small American towns were before KFC moved in.”

Monica slipped her purse to her shoulder. “Naturally, Nita refuses to cooperate.”

“It would be so easy to draw tourists if she’d only let us make a few improvements,” Syl said. “Nita wouldn’t have to pay for a dime of it.”

“Syl’s been trying to open a real gift shop next door to her resale shop for five years,” Penny said, “but Nita hated her mother and won’t rent her the space.”

As the church bells rang, the women began outlining other parts of the Garrison Grows plan, which included a bed-and-breakfast, converting Josie’s into a decent restaurant, and letting someone named Andy Berillo add a coffeehouse to the bakery.

“Nita says coffeehouses are only for Communists,” Syl said indignantly. “Now what would a Communist be doing in East Tennessee?”