Peggy Moreland - Billionaire Bridegroom

Miss Manie appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Rebecca Lee Sullivan,” she warned sternly, “you better hope your boots are clean.”

Becky glanced down at her feet, then back up at Miss Manie and grinned. “Yes, ma‘am. They’re clean.”

Manie turned back to her kitchen. “Better be. Last time you were here, you tracked manure on my freshly waxed floor.”

Becky winced as she headed for the kitchen, dodging packing boxes stacked in the short hall. “Sorry ‘bout that, Miss Manie.”

“Sorry doesn’t wax floors,” Miss Manie replied sharply, but when she turned to look at Becky, the twinkle in her eyes took the sting out of her words. She waved her toward a chair. “Have a seat. Callie and I were just having us a cup of herbal tea.”

Becky hooked her hat on the back of the chair, then sat down. She wrinkled her nose as Callie placed a fragile cup and saucer in front of her, then poured steaming tea into it. “What is it?” she asked suspiciously as she dipped her head to peer at the lightly colored brew.

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