She was padding across her bedroom with a towel around her body when the phone rang. Expecting it to be Dana fussing at her for being late, she picked it up and said, “Give me ten minutes and don’t eat all the meat lover’s.”
“What are you talking about?” her mother asked bluntly.
“Hello, Mama,” Tawny said.
“So how are things in the boondocks?”
“Great. Wonderful, actually. Why don’t you come up and spend the weekend? I can get you a discount on a cabin.” Tawny propped the phone on her shoulder and towel-dried her hair as she talked.
“No, thank you. I’m not interested in spending one minute there. I didn’t like staying overnight when your father was alive, so I’m sure not going there again. I called to tell you that I pulled some really big strings and got you back into college for next semester.”
Tawny dropped the towel. “How did you do that?”
Did this mean that her mother was finally coming around? Could they possibly have a decent adult relationship?
“Does it matter? You get to finish your degree. Of course you’ll be on probation, but you’ll have it all done in one semester, so that’s no big deal.”
Leaning back in her chair, she looked at her bookcase full of sentimental items—the latest was a beautiful monarch butterfly that had died in the laundry room that day, prompting her thought about Brook needing to spread her wings at least once a week.
“Are you there?” Retha’s tone was demanding.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not going back to college. I don’t need a degree with this new job. But next time you are flying through Dallas on one of your trips, call me and I’ll drive up to the airport and we’ll have lunch or dinner.”
Retha’s snort said that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m as disappointed in you as I am in Harper.”
“Mother, you are going to end up a lonely old lady, but it’s not too late to turn things around. We probably won’t ever have the kind of relationship Dana has with her mother or that we all had with Granny, but we could start to build some kind of foundation.” Tawny tried to reach the thermostat to turn down the air-conditioning, but the cord wouldn’t go that far.
“Your granny Annie gave me a lecture one time about your father. She had the opinion that he was a king and needed to be treated like one. But anyway, she said that sometimes the door gets shut and no one can open it. You might remember that. This offer isn’t for anything other than the fall semester,” Retha said.
“I’ll hope that you change your mind, and if you do, you know where to get in touch with us.” Tawny eased the phone back onto the base. Her mother was the one shutting that door.
She jerked on a pair of denim shorts and covered a red tank top with a plaid shirt, slipped her feet into flip-flops and twisted her hair up into a wet ponytail. It didn’t really matter what she looked like that evening, because she would be the fifth wheel. She thought about begging off, but she was hungry and pizza sounded really good.
The night air was muggy, so she pulled off the shirt and tied it around her waist before she got to Dana’s house. Strange how for years the little two-bedroom home was Granny Annie’s house, and after only a month, she was already thinking of it as Dana’s. She didn’t knock but yelled when she entered through the kitchen door. Everyone but Brook and Johnny was gathered around the table, paper plates in hand as they loaded them up. The two kids were in the living room sitting on one of Granny’s old quilts on the floor.
Tawny glanced over at Brook and asked, “Why aren’t y’all goin’ outside?”
“It’s too hot out there,” Brook said. “And besides, we don’t want to listen to old people talk, so we’re having an air-conditioned pizza picnic. Get your food and come eat with us in here, Aunt Tawny. This is Johnny, and his uncle Nick is in the bathroom washing up. This is my aunt Tawny.”
“Thank you for not grouping me in with the old people.” Tawny smiled. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.” The kid was exactly as Brook had described him. A boy with skin the color of coffee with lots and lots of cream in it, and jet-black hair that tickled his shirt collar. He blushed slightly and nodded. Poor kid was every bit as shy as Brook said, but he seemed to be perfectly comfortable with her.
“Well, I’m takin’ mine outside,” Payton declared. “I’ve been on a delivery truck all day.”
“And I’ve been cooped up in a store with minnows and worms, so I’m going outside, too,” Dana declared.
To stay in with the kids and Johnny’s old uncle or to go outside and be a fifth wheel—those were Tawny’s options. She sure didn’t want to hinder Dana’s time with Payton, so with a sigh, she put another slice of pizza on her plate. She was on the way to the living room, hoping that Uncle Nick would be a sweet old guy like Uncle Zed, when a movement caught her eye in the hallway.
Holy almighty hell were the three words that ran through her mind when she looked up at the gorgeous hunk of man not four feet in front of her. His coal-black hair was pulled into a thick braid that hung down his back at least a foot, but the top and sides were trimmed neatly. An artist would have trouble capturing all the angles and planes in his face, and his lips—good Lord, she wanted to taste them. Speaking of, his yellow T-shirt stretched over a six-pack of abs that said he was a hardworking man.
He smiled and stuck out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nick Eagle, Johnny’s uncle.”
Forgetting that she had a plate in her hand, Tawny stuck it out to shake with him and the pizza started to slide to the floor. He caught it upside down before it hit the floor and put it back on her plate. Heat rose from her neck and rushed to her cheeks.
“And that clumsy lady is my aunt Tawny,” Brook said from the quilt. “I’m glad you caught her pizza. I would have been tempted to eat it off the floor to keep from wasting it.”
“You wouldn’t!” Johnny exclaimed.
“We don’t waste good pizza in this house,” Brook said seriously.
“Hope you like scrambled pizza,” Nick said. “I’ll have to go wash my hands again before I shake yours.”
“I’m so sorry. Th-thank you.” She stumbled over the words like a sixth-grade girl.
“No problem. Be right back,” Nick said.
She sat down at the table, grabbed a beer, opened it, and downed a fourth of it fast to cool her cheeks. He’d returned by the time she set the bottle on the table. No matter how hard she tried to keep it inside and ladylike, the burp sounded like it came from a three-hundred-pound truck driver.
“Way to go, Aunt Tawny!” Brook laughed.
“I didn’t know girls could do that,” Johnny whispered, but his words carried across the living room into the tiny dining area.
“Sorry.” Tawny’s blush deepened.
“Not bad manners, just good beer,” Nick said.
“Want a beer?” Tawny asked.
“No, thanks—we all stopped after Johnny’s mama was killed by a drunk driver. Made Mama happy, because me and my brother liked to party,” he said. “But don’t let me stop you from enjoying yours. I’ll just have a root beer.”
“Was it hard to . . .” She stumbled again as her mind slipped into the gutter. “Was it difficult to not drink anymore?”