My dear friend, mentor, and running partner

Because of your unwavering confidence in me,
I felt confident enough to pour my soul into this story

PROLOGUE

1987

At eighty feet tall with a spread of forty feet, the southern magnolia tree was known to get out of hand in our part of South Carolina, which was nestled smack-dab in the middle of the heart-shaped state. The ornamental madam could get a wild leaf to lift her full skirt and take a squat in a yard if she wasn’t made to mind. Owners had to be diligent with keeping the trees on a grooming routine or chance the entire yard becoming overrun by the Southern beauties.

The self-contained tree was a tidy guest though. Discarded limbs and leaves were kept hidden under her fluffy hem until the debris gradually returned to the very soil that gave it life.

Unlike most neighboring towns who were starting to plop Bradford pear trees in the ground like they were the next great thing, our entire town was decorated with southern magnolias. Shoot, our trees had built-in storage, and Mother Nature wasn’t the only one to take advantage of the unique hiding spots. High school students weren’t as sly as they thought they were with hiding their cigarettes under the two fat twins flanking the bus lot so they could sneak a smoke between classes. The Truett Memorial Library didn’t allow food or beverages past the door, so most folks used the limbs of a magnolia tree beside the building to hang grocery bags or set their cups just underneath to retrieve later on their way out. You just never knew what would be found under one of the trees. Diaries, love notes, a lost baseball . . .

The most notorious discovery had to be the skeletal remains of a runaway teen and the knife used to dismember her. As if that wasn’t awful enough, her remains were found under a giant magnolia on the front lawn of the courthouse where the trial had been held and concluded years before, confirming later that an innocent man had been sent to prison.

But the folks of Magnolia didn’t like to talk about that. No, they preferred to keep stuff like that hidden and shine up all the positives of the small town. Like the fact that our mayor had a direct connection to the Kennedy family —by way of a second cousin, once removed —making him and his family town royalty. And then there was the other family who were kin to the folks who made the Duke’s Mayonnaise up the road in Greenville. Of course, they’re considered town royalty, too. It is the best mayonnaise, so I get it.