“Girls, this might not be the time for revenge.” Graham wouldn’t blame them, but he couldn’t let them go through with that kind of thing.

“I think we should wear a big old southern hat, too,” Tabby said.

“No, Mother says Lizzy is having fresh rosebud circlets made for our hair, with burgundy ribbons down the back,” Dixie reminded her. “Maybe we should go barefoot, paint our toenails black, and wear toe rings. Daddy, can we get henna tattoos on our shoulders that say wild girls?”

“You cannot,” Graham said, raising his voice a notch.

“Well, rats,” Dixie said. “Then how about we get two-piece dresses and pierce our belly buttons? We could get one of those . . .”

“No!” Graham’s voice went up another octave.

“Then let’s do formfitting pink-satin dresses with a side slit up to our . . .”

Graham’s palms went up in a flash. “That’s enough, ladies. I don’t want to hear about slits up to wherever. I’m going to work, and your job today is to finish unpacking, get your bedrooms organized, and do your laundry. I’ll call as soon as I talk to the lady at the dress shop, but it might be this afternoon. I don’t know what time she opens, and I’d like to talk to her in person. I can’t imagine why she’d put a place like that in Celeste.”

“Me, either, but I’m sure glad she did,” Dixie said.

“Especially if she says yes.” Tabby nodded. “Text us when you know something? That way if they can see us anytime today, we can walk down there.”

“Will do.” Graham picked up his briefcase and headed out the back door.

He drove down Main Street to the dress shop, saw that it wouldn’t be open for another thirty minutes, and called his secretary, Vivien, who told him that he had meetings starting at nine that morning with each of the departments of his family’s Cadillac dealership. That meant he’d have to take care of the dress business during his lunchtime. Maybe if the shop owners could set up an appointment, he’d have time to run by his new house and tell the girls.

He made it to work with five minutes to spare before his first meeting and greeted Vivien with a wave as he walked inside the dealership.

“The Service Department is in the conference room.” She handed him a folder. “I’ll buzz in with a reminder in forty-five minutes. That way you can wrap this one up and have a short break before the Finance Department arrives.”

“Couldn’t run this place without you.” Graham meant what he said. His dad had died last year and left him the dealership, lock, stock, and barrel. Vivien—a forty-year company veteran—helped make a smooth transition.