“It wasn’t my fault,” Tawny said out loud as she pulled into the spot in front of number seven.
I told you about that rotten boy. I knew he was trouble when y’all stopped by here last summer. Pompous and egotistical and downright rude, but you wouldn’t listen. So it was your fault. Now it was her mother’s voice in her head.
“Well, now that’s a first. Mama and Granny agreeing on anything might bring on a tornado right here on the lake.” Tawny checked the skies, but there wasn’t even a white fluffy cloud up there in all the clear blue.
She stepped out of the car and unlocked the cabin door.
“Twin beds,” she groaned. Granted, the cabin was bigger than the one-room apartment that she’d had in Austin, and either of the beds would be better than the lumpy mattress she’d slept on the past three months, but she’d hoped that she’d get a unit with a queen- or king-size bed.
“I guess beggars can’t be choosers, right, Granny? You used to tell us that all the time when we were kids.” She choked up, and her lower lip and chin quivered. Why, oh, why hadn’t she made time to come see her grandmother in the last three months?
Leaving the suitcases and boxes inside the door, she headed to the café. A strong wind whipped her long, honey-blonde hair around in her face, so she worked a ponytail holder up from the pocket of her skinny jeans. By the time she had her hair pulled up, she’d reached the door but couldn’t force herself to go inside, so she sat down on the bench.
Lake water mixed with a stronger minnow smell floated on the wind, but it didn’t overpower the aroma of grilled onions coming out of the café. Bless Zed’s heart, he had to be heartbroken. He and Granny had been friends their whole lives, and instead of the sisters taking care of him, he was in there cooking for them. If he could do that, then she could damn sure face Dana and Harper. With new courage, she popped up off the bench and ducked inside, only to find the dining area completely empty. A dozen tables were arranged with four to six chairs around each one—just like they’d always been. The only difference was one covered with a white cloth that had been pushed into a corner. It was laden with desserts of all kinds.
“Have a seat anywhere.” Zed stuck his head through the serving window between the dining room and the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready. The ladies of the church brought all them desserts to you girls. Don’t know why. Annie hadn’t set foot in that place in more than thirty years. Maybe they’re tryin’ to get rid of the guilt they’ve been carryin’ around about the way they treated her. But that’s between them and their God.”
“Chocolate cake sure looks good,” Tawny said. “What guilt?”
“Whole bunch of them was ugly when your grandpa died,” Zed answered. “Don’t you be eatin’ one bite until you finish your real food.” He shook his finger at her and set a platter with eight big burgers on the serving ledge and followed it with another of tomatoes, lettuce, and pickles. “You take that on out to one of the tables. I’ll bring the french fries. Reckon you can go on and eat. I told everyone twelve sharp, and well, now, there’s Harper, and I believe that would be Dana and Brook right behind her.”
Harper pulled off her sunglasses, and a quick glance around the café let her know that nothing had changed in that area. The menu was above the counter where Flora usually took orders until right after the lunch rush—if there was one. Burgers, hot dogs, fries, and the daily blue-plate special. Mainly good old-fashioned home cooking that folks came from miles around to get. Harper suddenly wished it was Friday, because that was the day that Zed made his famous pot roast and hot rolls. And on Sunday he always made chicken and dressing, cranberry sauce from scratch, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn on the cob. That day drew folks in by the droves, and there was always a long line.
Chrome tables with yellow tops could seat four to six people or be pushed together for a bigger crowd. Napkin dispensers, salt and pepper shakers, and a bowl of small packets of sugar and sweeteners were arranged in the middle of the tables. Chairs used to match the tables, but they’d been recently recovered in shiny red plastic. Black-and-white tile covered the floor and was so shiny that Harper wouldn’t have a problem eating off it.
“Hamburgers smell amazing. Why’d you make all these desserts?” Harper asked.
“Done told Tawny. She can explain it to you,” Zed answered as he headed back into the kitchen.
She whipped around to see Tawny on the other side of the room. The precious daughter who did no wrong—according to their mother—looked like hell. Tawny’s blonde hair, usually perfectly styled, with not a long curl out of place, was pulled up in a ponytail. And her eyes looked like she hadn’t slept well in weeks.
“What are you staring at?” Tawny snapped.
“Not much.” Harper turned away from her younger sister at the same time that Dana and Brook pushed their way through the door and sat down at the table where the food waited. “What’s going on with the dessert table?” Dana asked.
“Evidently Tawny knows.” Harper sat down across from Dana.
“Did you make all that, Aunt Tawny?” Brook asked.
“Humph,” Harper snorted. “If she tried to boil water, she’d burn down the whole house. The kitchen is as foreign to her as—”
“Being sober is to you,” Tawny smarted off as she crossed the room and settled into the fourth chair.
“Put the claws away.” Zed brought a basket of sweet potato fries to the table. “Or I walk right out of here for good.”
Dana gasped.
Tawny’s eyes got wide.
Harper laid down her burger and touched his arm. “Please don’t do that. We’d be lost without you, Uncle Zed.”
“The church ladies brought the desserts. Evidently they did something to upset Granny Annie a long time ago, and they’re feelin’ guilty,” Tawny explained.
“I wish they’d ride that guilt trip for a week or two,” Brook laughed. “That stuff over there looks epic.”
“Epic?” Harper asked and then bit into a burger.
“It’s the new ‘awesome’ or ‘fabulous,’” Dana explained.
“I thought everything was ‘dope’ these days. That’s what I’m used to hearing the college kids sayin’.” Harper raised her voice. “Uncle Zed, these are epic, dope, and fabulous. Come on out here and eat with us.”
“Naw, I’ll just take my meal in the kitchen where I can watch the ribs I got cookin’ for supper,” he yelled back. “Y’all go on and clean up that food and then you can get into them cakes and pies. The lawyer will be here at one thirty.”
“Yes, sir,” Brook said seriously. “So is that old truck yours, Aunt Harper?”
“Yes.” She piled lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles on her burger.
“It’s been a long time since I saw you, but I think you were driving that truck then and I was just a little kid,” Brook said.
“I’ve been driving it for a long time. Little kid, huh? What are you now, twenty-one?”
Brook giggled. “I’m fourteen. What kind of job have you been doing?”
“I worked as a bartender in one of the college honky-tonks up in Oklahoma this last time and lots of other bars before that,” Harper told her.