Colleen, facing a pressing decision of her own, is the granddaughter of Lily, who once lived in a world guided by a set of rules, many of which she would've rather just ignored, a few of which she would have preferred to toss out altogether. But in Toccoa, Georgia in 1945, things were just done a certain way; plans and promises made were expected to be kept, societal norms were to be adhered to, no matter the cost. And Lily's strong-willed mother, Honey, wouldn't have it any other way.

During an emotional and jubilant time of historical proportions, Fireworks Over Toccoa is a novel about the heart of a woman and her struggles to stay within the confines of what it yearns for. Lily Davis Woodward meets Jake Russo just days before her husband is scheduled to return to the home they had only shared for two weeks before he went to serve in World War II. What ensues could be considered a predictable wild-oats-sowing whim, but I'm quite sure Lily didn't view it as such. Jake Russo exuded such passion and verve, Lily couldn't help but surrender and respond to his quiet, understated charm, not to mention her own emotions which had been building beneath the surface. She decides to share herself, her dreams and stories with Jake, and their time together becomes but a cherished moment to embrace forever.

My favorite part has to be when Jake cooks risotto for Lily out in the field over a campfire. I even looked up the song mentioned as playing over the radio (Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered by Helen Forrest).

The ending wraps up quite nicely and somewhat satisfactorily, despite the tragedy that felt sort of muted to me, because of Lily's actions and desires. However, throughout the book I couldn't help but be reminded of the movie Titanic. Several aspects were so similar it put me off a little bit, but not so much that I couldn't enjoy the beautiful writing, which was sometimes exquisite, sometimes educational. A few quotes I marked in particular:

~ After the War Between the States, when the only way to get salt was to boil the dirt from the floors of the ravaged smokehouses, pour off the water, and use the residue in the bottom of the pot, wasting salt was a sin in Georgia.

~ "I'll bring you a pie. A pecan pie. That's what we do in Toccoa. Baking. Lots of baking, usually with nuts."

~ When she had been dancing alone, this was who she was with.