Honey and Smoke Read Online Free

was a baby. Some people say she was the only woman Bartram ever loved—he didn’t get married until he was over forty, and after she died, he never married again. Didn’t stop him from having a good time, though.” Grace smiled. “Before I was married, I had a few dates with him myself. He was very hard to forget.”
    “Then why—”
    “He wasn’t the marrying kind. I was.”
    “So Max grew up here with an aging playboy for a father.”
    “Uh huh. Max cut a pretty wide path through the local girls himself, though he was no match for his daddy. After he graduated from high school, he joined the marines, and I bet we didn’t see him more than a handful of times after that. Just when he’d visit Bartram. Last winter he came back for his daddy’s funeral and then, a few months later, he came back for good.”
    Grace bent her head closer so the workmen couldn’t hear. “Bartram was over eighty years old. But he died in the saddle, if you know what I mean.”
    Betty swallowed a smile. “Any horse I’d know?”
    Grace nodded. “Connie Jean Brown.”
    “Not the grandmotherly little lady who runs the yogurt shop!”
    “The same. Thank goodness her husband didn’t get upset. I think he was sort of proud of Connie Jean for being a sexy senior citizen.”
    Betty slumped against the counter and tossed her brush down. She couldn’t help laughing. “Grace, I moved up here to get back to basics, to live in a place where most people still believe in traditional values. If Bartram Templeton’s escapades are the kinkiest gossip you’ve got, then I’m happy. That’s a great story.”
    Grace laughed too. “This’ll make it even better then. Do you know what Bartram did besides working as justice of the peace? Ever hear of the Hitching Post?”
    “Hmmm. I vaguely remember an article in one of theAtlanta magazines about a strange little business up here—”
    “That was it. Bartram ran it.” Grace grinned. “And Max just reopened it.”
    Betty crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Grace grimly. “You mean that he runs a wedding chapel? He marries people?”
    Grace hooted. “Yes, honey. You make it sound like he marries them to himself.” She raised a gray eyebrow rakishly. “We call it a wedding
parlor
, not a chapel. If Max Templeton is like his daddy, his weddings are like no weddings you’ve ever seen before. Do you know how people get married at that parlor?”
    Betty stared at her wide-eyed. “How?”
    “They get married in costumes. I mean, if they want to. There’s an extra fee for it. Civil War, Indian, pioneer—even got a suit of armor one of the local welders made. The groom can dress up like a knight. If Max runs the place the same as his daddy did, getting married is a big joke.”
    “That’s awful.”
    “I sort of think so too.” Grace looked at her curiously. “But you look really upset.”
    “I think weddings should be dignified. I think marriage is too important to be treated as a joke.” Betty hesitated, then admitted softly, “I’m a recent dropout of the ‘we-don’t-need-a-formal-commitment’ school of relationships. Trust me, it’s a tough course. I believe in marriage. I think that it’s still the most loving and most dedicated way to live.”
    Grace patted her hand in consolation. “Honey, you’re gonna find yourself a good ol’ boy up here who’ll marry you in a second. You’re only thirty years old. You got a few good years left.”
    “Well, thanks.”
    “Just don’t get involved with Max Templeton unless you want a good time but not much else.”
    “I’ve had that kind of good time already. It wasn’t so good.” Betty had barely finished grinding her teeth before the delivery boy arrived.
    “Present for Ms. Quint,” he announced, standing in the doorway of the restaurant’s screened veranda.
    Betty stared at the basket he carried. It was wrapped in a florist’s colorful cellophane and topped by a large red bow. It was filled with mushrooms.