Then she got back down to soft drink business. She went to the break room and begrudgingly fed four quarters into the vending machine for a can of Quixie, hoping for some kind of inspiration.

As always, the combination of carbonation and the sharp-sweet taste of cherries gave her a start. Quixie was something special, she reminded herself, something worth saving.

She got a begrudging “Good idea” e-mail back from Davis, approving the new “Taste of Dixie” slogan. Then she spent the morning on the phone, talking to bottle manufacturers about copying the Quixie glass bottle from the ’50s. She’d located the old molds from the bottles in a dusty corner of the warehouse, and now her challenge was to find a company willing to copy the old molds and start producing new bottles immediately.

There was a soft tap on her office door. Before Annajane could call out, the door opened and Voncile stepped inside. “Annajane? Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” Annajane said, rolling her chair away from her desk. “What’s up?”

Voncile closed the door and locked it, then sat nervously in a chair opposite the desk, pulling the skirt of her sensible brown cotton skirt even farther down over her knees.

She folded her hands in her lap and blinked rapidly, opening her mouth, then closing it again, before finally the words came out in a torrent, her voice shaking with fear and indignation.

“I have worked for this company since I was fifteen years old. I worked for Mr. Glenn, God rest, and then I was so happy to go to work for Mason. And when he brought Sophie home, I prayed about that, and I called up my sister-in-law, Letha, and told her he needed a good woman to take care of that precious baby. And I have been with this company for thirty-two years.”

“I know that,” Annajane said reassuringly, wondering what this was all about. “And I know Mason and the rest of the family appreciates you and Letha’s dedication.”

Voncile nodded. “Last year, Mason said he was gonna have to quit naming me Employee of the Month because I’d already won it so many times it was making some people jealous. He said he was just going to go ahead and name me Employee of the Millennium and be done with it. But I never did get a certificate or anything.”

“I think that was just Mason’s idea of a joke, Voncile,” Annajane said.

Voncile shrugged. “You know, Annajane, I’ve been praying for you and Mason to get back together. It was a sad day for all of us when you two split up. Miss Celia is nice, and she certainly seems to know a lot about business, but just between the two of us, I think you would make a better mama for Sophie. Not that it’s any of my say-so.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” Annajane said demurely. “And I appreciate your prayers. But I think it’s best if Mason and I go our separate ways.”

Voncile gave Annajane an appraising look. “You know I do not listen to gossip. The Bible says, ‘A gossip betrays a confidence; so avoideth a man who talks too much.’ That’s Proverbs 20:19. You could look it up. But Troy Meeks is a good man, and he said the talk around town is that you and Mason have gotten back together again. Is that true?”

Annajane felt herself blush. “Well, uh, not really. I think maybe Troy misunderstood. Mason and I are just friends.”

“But you didn’t marry that boy down in Atlanta.” She nodded pointedly at Annajane’s left hand. “You’re not wearing your engagement ring. And you didn’t take that job down there,” Voncile protested. “I thought that meant Mason was going to ask you to marry him.”

“I’m afraid not,” Annajane said, fervently wishing for an end to the conversation. “Was there something specific on your mind, Voncile?”

The older woman stared down at the floor. “One of the girls in accounting told me the company is in such bad shape, we might get sold off. She said she heard Davis is already talking to some company in New Jersey that wants to buy us.”

Mason had sworn her to secrecy, but obviously news of the Jax Snax offer had begun to leak out. She didn’t want to lie to Voncile, but she also didn’t want to keep the rumor mill going.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I do know that there is a company that’s approached the family about selling Quixie. But as you may know, Glenn Bayless established an irrevocable trust shortly before he died that prohibited a sale for five years after his death.”

“It was five years this past Christmas that Mr. Glenn passed away,” Voncile pointed out.

“Right. And next week, I think, Thomas Norris, Glenn’s attorney, is going to let the family know how Glenn wanted the company left to his heirs. Until the family finds that out, any talk of a sale is premature,” Annajane said, trying to choose her words carefully.

“Mason wouldn’t sell us out,” Voncile said flatly. “He knew what this company meant to his daddy. And his granddaddy. He wouldn’t let that happen. Right?”

Sometimes, Annajane thought, doing the right thing means doing the wrong thing for the people you care most about.

“Mason cares deeply about his responsibilities,” Annajane said. “But I’m afraid it isn’t just up to him. Davis and Pokey and Sallie will probably all have a say in what happens.”

Voncile’s breathing grew rapid, and two bright pink splotches appeared on her heavily powdered cheeks. “I was afraid of that. If outsiders buy Quixie, what will happen to all of us?” She nervously chewed her lower lip. “I need this job, Annajane. My Claude, rest his soul, didn’t leave me hardly anything when he passed. If we get bought out, those New Jersey folks won’t want a fifty-nine-year-old like me with bad knees and fallen arches, even with all my Employee of the Month certificates. And I’d lose my health care. Annajane, I have the sugar diabetes. And hypertension. I can’t afford those pills without my health care plan.”

Annajane nodded in sympathy. “Nothing’s been decided yet, Voncile, so please don’t go getting yourself all upset. It’s true that Davis is in favor of the sale. But Mason doesn’t want to sell, and neither does Pokey.”

“And what about their mama? Miss Sallie? She wouldn’t let them sell Mr. Glenn’s company, would she?”

“I’m not sure,” Annajane admitted. “Really, nobody knows how this will all be settled until Mr. Thomas meets with the family next week to explain about Glenn’s trust.”

Voncile clucked under her breath. “Rest his soul. This company was Mr. Glenn’s baby. I just pray he fixed it up good with the lawyers so things can stay the way he intended.”

Annajane stood up and patted the older woman’s shoulder. “I hope your prayers get heard, Voncile.”

Voncile raised her eyes heavenward. “My faith is in the Lord,” she said solemnly. “But sometimes, the lambs of the flock have to rise up and take care of themselves. Sometimes, it is up to the righteous to do the Lord’s work here on earth for him.”

“Okay, then,” Annajane said, walking Voncile back out into the hallway. She wondered, for only a brief moment, what kind of measures the righteous would take to cast somebody like Celia out of Passcoe. And then she got back to work.

At midmorning, she ran to the ladies room down the hall, pushed open the heavy door, and ran smack into Celia herself, who was standing in front of the mirror, touching up her already-flawless makeup.

Annajane nearly did an about-face. But after drinking all that Quixie, she desperately needed to pee, and there was only one lady’s room in the plant, and this small, two-stall bathroom was it.

She nodded curtly at Celia and went to open the door of the nearest stall. It didn’t budge. She glanced downward and saw that it was occupied. As was the one next to it. There was nowhere to hide. Annajane crossed her arms over her chest and stood with her back to the paper towel dispenser, staring up at the ceiling as though it were the Sistine Chapel.

Celia was in no particular hurry. She took a large brush and dusted her face with tinted mineral powder. Rummaging in her cosmetic bag, she brought out an eyebrow pencil and applied short, feathery strokes to her pale brows.