“Most of my customers are under the age of forty-five.” She shrugged. “Everyone over that age still goes to Ima Jean’s. I think they’re afraid not to. I’ve had a couple of people tell me they came here the first time because she was so rude to them, but they keep coming back because the food’s better than hers.”

“I’m not surprised about either part of that statement.” I’d had more than my share of tongue-lashings from Ima Jean both in the bakery and out. Most of the town had tolerated her rudeness because they didn’t have a choice, and I suspected the ones who continued to go to her shop only did so because they hated change. That, or they were afraid of her.

Dena folded the lid of the cupcake box and tucked it in. “Momma says she wasn’t always like this. She used to be the sweetest woman in town.”

“Really?” I tried to hide my surprise. I’d always suspected some of her crankiness came from being older, kind of like Miss Mildred, my former neighbor. Even though she owned a bakery, I never once suspected she’d ever been sweet.

“My momma says she changed after her husband’s business went under about twenty-five years ago.”

“I thought her husband died about twenty-five years ago.”

She leaned over the top of the case. “Rumor has it he committed suicide after losing the business.”

“Oh dear.” That was bound to make someone cranky, and I felt a little bad for thinking ill of Ima Jean.

Dena started to box up Mason’s pie. “Momma says it was a huge scandal. He was caught havin’ an affair, then there was a mysterious fire at his warehouse. For some reason, he announced he wasn’t gonna rebuild and a week or so later he hung himself in his basement.”

I gasped, my hand resting at the base of my throat. “Oh, my goodness! That’s horrible.”

She shook her head, a knowing look in her eyes. “Momma says she was never the same.”

I couldn’t say I blamed her. I couldn’t even imagine living through something like that.

Dena looked behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see Marta shooting me a glare, although for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe she didn’t like that we were gossiping. I noticed there was another, younger girl in the seating area too, but she seemed to be much more focused on her cell phone than our conversation.

As soon as she finished fussing with the boxes, Dena rang up my order. I dug the spare change out of my purse and handed it over to her, suddenly wondering how I was going to pay for Neely Kate’s hair appointment. I’d never been this broke before, and though I knew it was temporary, it scared the bejiggers out of me. I wondered if I should get my own part-time job to help fill my pockets for the next month or two.

“Thanks, Dena,” I said as I headed for the door.

“Come back soon, Rose.”

I held up the bag. “No worries there!”

It took no more than a couple of minutes for me to walk to the courthouse. The security guard on duty was an elderly man who loved to tease me whenever I came to visit Mason.

“You brought me a piece of pie, Rose?”

I laughed. “You know darn good and well whose pie that is.”

He chuckled. “I bet Mr. Deveraux didn’t know he was gonna get fed so well when he started dating you.”

“I’ve got to think of some way to convince him to keep me around,” I teased as I walked through the security sensor.

He shook his head, his eyes dancing with merriment. “I’m certain he doesn’t need much convincin’.”

When I walked into Mason’s office, his secretary, Kaylee, glanced up and a smile spread across her face. “Rose. Mr. Deveraux is expecting you, but he got called away for a few minutes. He said to tell you to go on into his office.”

“Thanks.”

Multiple files were scattered across his desk, making it look messier than usual. I didn’t want to put his pie on any of the folders, and I certainly didn’t want to move anything, so I set the bag on the window ledge and took in the view of the square. Thankfully the rain had let up and the sun was peeking through the clouds, which surely had to be good for Neely Kate’s disposition.

I was going to have to ask Mason to loan me money and that burned my gut like I’d been stabbed with a white-hot poker. I knew he wouldn’t mind. In fact, he’d be more than willing to help. But I hated to think I was about to be that girlfriend.

I moved back over to his desk and sat in his chair. My gaze drifted over the folders again, and a name on one of the tabs caught my eye. I leaned forward and gasped.

Dora Middleton.

Mason had a file on my birth mother.

Chapter Three

Mason was keeping secrets from me.

A surge of anger rose in my chest, but I quickly stomped it down. This was an official file. Mason kept a file on J.R. locked in the desk drawer at home. That case was private. This file was mixed in with all his others, which meant it was probably official business in some way. He’d made it clear to me that he couldn’t share confidential information with me, which I understood well enough. The question was why did he have a file on my birth mother? Was it about the car accident that had killed her?

I cast a quick glance toward the door. Kaylee was sitting at her desk, her back to me. I knew what I was about to do was wrong. It was a breach of trust between Mason and me. But a file with information about Dora was right there in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Just let it sit there?