Together they climbed the stairs and went to prepare for the funeral of the woman Cody had adored and on occasion admired, but until just this morning had never understood.

Melissa watched the clock above the soda fountain ticking slowly toward noon. She would not go to Mary’s funeral. She would not! If she did, she would be going for all the wrong reasons.

Drugstore owner and pharmacist Eli Dolan came out from behind the prescription counter, then peered at her over the rim of his reading glasses. “You going?”

“Going where?” Melissa asked.

He muttered something about women and foolishness under his breath. “To that funeral, of course. You ought to be paying your respects.”

She didn’t bother asking how Eli knew that she had been close to Mary at one time. Everyone in town knew everyone else’s business. That’s what had made staying here after her daughter was born so difficult. She doubted there was a single soul that didn’t have their suspicions about the identity of Sharon Lynn’s daddy, but as far as she knew only her own parents and Cody’s brother Jordan and his wife knew the truth for certain.

She wouldn’t have admitted it to Jordan and Kelly, but he had taken one look at the baby and guessed. She hadn’t been able to deny it. Jordan had vowed to keep her secret and, as far as she knew, he’d been true to his word. She was ninety-eight percent certain that he’d never told Cody. Harlan had instilled a deep sense of honor in all of his sons. That included keeping promises, even when extracted under the most trying conditions.

She also had a hunch that if Jordan had told, Cody would have stormed back to Texas and raised a commotion that would have set the whole town on its ear. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.

“You’d better get a move on, if you’re going to find a place in church,” Eli prompted, clearly not intending to let the matter drop. “It’s bound to be crowded. Folks around here think mighty highly of Harlan and his sons. They’ll be there for them, even if most of them found Mary a little high-falutin’ for their taste.”

“I can’t leave here now,” Melissa hedged, taking another wipe at the already polished counter. “It’s lunchtime.”

“And who’s going to be here?” he shot right back. “Everybody will be at the funeral. I don’t expect we’ll be doing much business. And you seem to forget that I was making milk shakes and sandwiches when you were still in diapers. I can handle things for the next couple of hours. If I make a mess of things, you can say you told me so when you get back.”