Phoebe motioned toward Ivy’s ringless hands, especially the left, which bore a pale, untanned band of skin on the ring finger.

“He hurt you bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say we hurt each other. And since I can work anywhere I want, I chose here.”

“Here?” Phoebe looked around the homely diner. “There’s not but three stoplights—and one, the one in front of First Baptist, is really only a blinking light. No mall, no clubs, no fun.”

“And why are you here?” Ivy asked.

“Born and raised here. Like my mama and daddy.” Phoebe leaned in and lowered her voice. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not fixing on staying here much longer. My boyfriend, Cody, is deployed. He’s an Army Ranger. And where he’s at is so supersecret he can’t even tell me where it is. But he’ll be home in two weeks, and then…”

She looked around the café to make sure nobody could overhear. “You can’t tell a soul this next part, okay?”

“That’s easy. I don’t know a soul in Tarburton.”

“You know me. And you know that cute Ezra Wheeler.”

“How do you know…” Ivy’s voice trailed off. “Oh yeah. Small town. Anyway, your secret is safe with me.”

Phoebe took a deep breath. “We’re gonna elope. We’ve got it all planned out. It’ll be so romantic. He’ll be home two days before Christmas. Mr. Schoonover, he’s the city clerk you met, he’ll give us our marriage license, and Judge Briggs, I’ve known him since forever, I think he’d marry us, but just in case, I think we’ll go over to the next county and find a justice of the peace. And then we honeymoon in Gatlinburg.”

“That does sound romantic,” Ivy said, thinking about her own lavish wedding, with eight bridesmaids and as many groomsmen, and the flurry of parties and celebrations. And then, six years later, she was single again.

“Does your family know about your wedding plans?” Ivy asked.

Phoebe looked away and a faint red flush crept into her cheeks. “No. Cody’s kind of my secret.”

“Why is that?”

“Well…” Phoebe fiddled with the fringe of her scarf. “They’ve never met him. So they’d never approve.”

“Oh.” Ivy wondered if she should pry into her new friend’s personal life.

“How did you meet him?”

The younger woman perked back up again. “Online! He friended me, and liked a bunch of my pictures, and we started talking and he just … gets me. You know? He’s not like any of the guys around here. All they care about is ball games and fishing and hunting. But Cody, he cares about big, important stuff. And he’s serving our country!” She smiled shyly. “You want to see his picture?”

“Of course!”

Phoebe took out her phone and began scrolling through her camera roll. She thrust the phone at Ivy. “Isn’t he cute?”

Ivy studied the photos. Cody the Ranger was, indeed, cute. The photos showed a muscular twentysomething, grinning into the camera, looking like an Army recruitment poster in his fatigues, or standing, bare chested, flexing his six-pack abs and considerable biceps. There were photos of Cody in his dress uniform, with a chest full of medals, and pictures of Cody cutting up in a bar with beers and buddies.