The Liar

19

Jolene wasn’t quiet on the ride in, but cried in wild, gulping sobs all the way. With ears ringing, Griff decided all he really wanted in the world at that moment was to get back to work and sanity.

The only route he saw there was herding Shelby and Jolene into the station house.

Sheriff Hardigan looked at Griff, at the two women—Shelby, eyes hot, Jolene, eyes spewing tears. Stepping forward, he dug a large white handkerchief out of his pocket, pushed it into Jolene’s hands.

He said, in a tone that miraculously blended cheer and sympathy, “Well now, what’s all this?”

“Forrest is right behind us,” Griff began.

“I’m probably under arrest.” After slapping her hands on her hips, Shelby looked directly, defiantly into Hardigan’s eyes. “I punched Melody Bunker in the face.”

“Hmm,” was Hardigan’s response before he focused on Jolene.

“I didn’t know she meant to do it!” Hysteria bubbled up through the hitching sobs. “I swear, I didn’t. I thought she was just being mad and saying things. I didn’t think she meant to really get Arlo to scare Shelby or hurt her. I swear I’m that upset about all of it.”

“I can see that. Why don’t you come on in and tell me about it. You got her?” he said to Griff, arched his eyebrows at Shelby.

“I guess.”

“Deputized?” Shelby gave him one hard look as Hardigan led Jolene into his office.

“That’s just Forrest being Forrest.” But he was relieved when Forrest himself walked in with a cold-eyed Melody.

“Jolene?”

“Sheriff’s talking to her.”

“Good enough. You got her?”

At the repeated question, Griff winced. “Yeah, yeah.”

Forrest escorted Melody into the back break room, walked out again. “Nobby, I need you to sit on her for a couple minutes while I sort some of this out.”

“No problem there.”

When Forrest turned to his sister, she held out her hands, wrists together.

“Stop that shit.”

“Maybe you want your deputy to do it.” When she turned with the same gesture to Griff, he just took her face in his hands.

“Cut it out. Now.”

She bristled a moment, but he didn’t let go, kept his eyes level on hers until she hissed out a breath. “I’m not mad at either of you—too much—and I’m sick about what happened to you, Griff. I’m just all-around mad. Am I under arrest?”

“It’s not going to come to that,” Forrest said. “Even if she pushes it, she’s in a hell of a lot more trouble. She earned the punch.”

“She surely did.”

“Hell of a right cross you got there, Red.”

“Thank you. Clay taught me, but it’s the first time I actually put it into practice. What do I do now?”

“You leave this to me and the sheriff—like you should have before you stormed the damn castle. Not that I’m ever going to blame you for the punch—and go on to work, or home, or whatever business you got going.”

“I can just go?”

“That’s right. And if she pushes the assault charge, we’ll deal with it. But I believe she’s going to be persuaded to let that alone.”

“All right.” She could hardly stay mad at her brother if he wasn’t going to arrest her. “I’m sorry for my part in this morning.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. Not yet. But I might work around to it.”

She walked out, paused when Griff walked out with her.

“None of this was my fault, and I’m pretty sick of taking responsibility for what I didn’t do. But—”

“There’s no but,” he interrupted.

She shook her head. “But, there’s no question I brought you trouble. I wouldn’t blame you for stepping back. I’ll be sorry and disappointed if you do, but I wouldn’t blame you.”

His answer was to take her face in his hands again, and this time to take her mouth as well. Long, serious and slow.

“That should settle that. I’m going to go see your dad now so I can get cleared and get the hell back to work.”

She smiled a little. “The black eye looks kind of rakish.”

“Just what I was going for. I’ll see you later. It’s been a hell of an interesting morning so far.”

She supposed he could put it that way, she thought as she walked to the salon. But she’d dearly love a couple of boring mornings.

She figured word of some of the interesting morning—and the incident the night before that had generated it—would have reached the salon by now.

The way conversation stopped, eyes turned to her when she walked in told her she’d gauged correctly.

“How is that boy? How bad’s he hurt?” Viola demanded.

“He’s going to see Daddy now, but I don’t think it’s too awful. He’s got cuts and bruises.”

“I heard they hauled Arlo Kattery in for hit-and-run,” Crystal put in. “And Lorilee here saw you driving hell-bent toward the big house a little while ago.”

“You might as well say what Melody’s got to do with all this,” Viola told her. “Everybody’s going to find out anyway.”

“She paid him, she paid Arlo to do it.”

After the collective gasp, Shelby dropped into a chair. She was early for work anyway, and God, interesting mornings were exhausting.

“Wait one minute.” Eyes narrowed, Viola swiveled the chair so Shelby faced her. “You’re saying Melody paid that Kattery boy to run Griffin Lott off the road? Why in hell would she do that?”

“She paid him to go after me, but Griff was in the way, so he went for him.”

“After . . . after you? But that . . . Why—” Realization struck, chilled her blood so some of it drained out of her face. “Because I kicked her out of here.”

“It’s not on you, Granny, and it’s not on me. It’s not on either of us. Any of us.”

“God knows she’s spoiled as rotten fruit, and always had a bright streak of mean in her, but I’d never have expected her to try something like this.”

“She gave Arlo a thousand down, with a thousand more when it was done.”

Viola nodded. The color that came back into her face was high and hot. “Is she arrested?”

“They’ve got her at the station house, talking about it.”

“They don’t lock her up, I’m going to know why.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s going to be ugly, that’s certain. And everybody might as well know the rest. I went up to the big house and I punched her in the face. I just saw red and punched her, knocked her flat. I’d do it again if I could.”

More gasps even as Viola grinned. She leaned over, gave Shelby a hard hug. “That’s my girl.”

“I wish I’d seen you do it.” Maybeline folded her arms. “It’s not Christian to say so, but I wish I’d seen you do it, and taken a picture with my phone.”

“Aunt Pattie says she gets hoity-toity and orders her around something fierce when Miz Piedmont’s not around.” Lorilee nodded sagely. “So I wish I’d seen it, too, but I’d’ve taken a video.”

She walked over, gave Shelby a hug. “So don’t you fret about it, Shelby. I know more people than I can count who’d’ve paid good money to see you knock that girl on . . . on her second-runner-up’s ass. Right, Miz Vi?”

“Couldn’t be righter, Lorilee.”

“I won’t fret.” She patted Lorilee’s hand. “But I’m going to start work early, if that’s okay. Deal with towels and supplies and such. Clear my head some.”

“You go on.”

Crystal waited until Shelby went in the back. “What do you suppose Mrs. Piedmont’s going to do about all this?”

“I guess we’ll wait and see.”

They didn’t have to wait long.

In the mid-afternoon lull—when stay-at-home mothers picked up their kids from school, or greeted them at the door, before those who worked outside the home could run in for an after-work cut and color or massage—Florence Piedmont stepped into Vi’s.

Once again, the salon hushed like a church. Florence, all dignity in a navy blue dress and sensible shoes, nodded at Shelby, who manned the front counter, then Viola.

“Viola, do you have a few minutes to speak with me? Privately. You and Shelby.”

“Of course we do. Shelby, do we have anyone in the Relaxation Room?”

“Ah . . . we shouldn’t have. We have three coming in for treatments in about an hour, and two in treatments right now.”

“That’s fine, then. We’ll go on back here, Florence, where it’s nice and quiet. Crystal, when my three-thirty comes in, you set her up with a magazine.”

“I appreciate the time, Viola.”

“You’d make it for me.” Viola led the way back, through the locker area. “We’ve known each other a lot of years.”

“We have, a lot of years. How is your mama, Vi?”

“Feisty as ever. And how’s yours?”

“Slowing down some. But she dearly loves living in Florida. My brother Samuel looks in on her every day.”

“He always had a sweet heart. You have a seat now.”

“Thank you, Vi, I could use one. I’ll tell the truth and say I’m tired to the bone.”

“We have some nice peach tea, Mrs. Piedmont. Hot or cold,” Shelby added. “Could I get you some?”

“I would love some hot peach tea, thank you, if it’s no trouble.”

“Not a bit. Granny?”

“That’d be nice, darling, thank you.”

“This is a lovely room, Viola. So peaceful and calming. You always had a clever mind, and a way of turning what worked in it into something fine.”

“That’s a nice thing to hear. Everybody needs somewhere peaceful and calming now and again.”

“We could all use more of it, to my mind. What color paint have you got on these walls?”

“It’s called Twilight Gold. Pretty name.”

“It is. Peaceful,” she said again, like a sigh. “Viola, Shelby, I’m going to start by saying I’m going to speak to Griffin Lott when I leave here. But I wanted to speak to the two of you first. I should’ve asked if Ada Mae could take a minute.”

“She’s doing a facial. It’s all right, Flo. We’ll tell her what you want to say to her.”

“I want to apologize to all of you. To your daddy, too, Shelby, your daughter, your brothers. To Jackson, Viola.”

“Mrs. Piedmont, ma’am, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I ask you to accept an apology from me.”

“Of course.” Shelby carried over the tea, in its pretty cups.

“Thank you. Would you sit, too? I’ve just come from the police station. Melody has admitted to going to Arlo Kattery, to giving him money to cause you trouble, Shelby. I’m not sure she’d have admitted it this soon, but they had three people already who saw her driving up to his trailer in the holler. And though it pains me to say it, I wouldn’t get her a lawyer until she told the truth.”

Saying nothing, Viola just reached out, took Florence’s hand.

“I don’t know what she thought would happen, or why she’d do something so mean, so reckless. I don’t know why she’s always been so jealous of you, Shelby. When you were voted head cheerleader back in high school, she had hysterics, begged me to make a big donation to the athletic department if they’d take you down, put her up. And when you were Homecoming queen over her, she came home and cut her dress to ribbons.”

Florence sighed. “She’s angry most of the time, it seems. I’d hoped by putting her in charge of The Artful Ridge, having her live in the carriage house, she’d be happier, start being more responsible. But I know, I see now, I indulged her too much all along. And her mama did even more.

“She’s my grandchild, my first granddaughter, and I love her.”

“Of course you do.”

“I overlooked too much over the years, but I won’t overlook this. She caused someone true harm, and it could have been much worse. She did it for spite. She’ll pay a price for that spite. I have no right to ask, and none to expect, but she’s my granddaughter, so I will ask. The sheriff indicated, if you and Griffin Lott are amenable, if you agree, instead of going to jail . . .”

For the first time Florence’s hand shook, so she set the teacup down carefully in its saucer.

“She could serve six months in a rehabilitation center, a private one, where she would have therapy for her various issues. She would be required to work there—chores, I suppose. Cleaning, gardening, laundry, that sort of thing. Then, if deemed ready, she would serve another six months’ community service in a halfway house, with a year’s probation to follow that.

“I won’t pretend it’s prison,” Florence continued. “But she would be restricted, get therapy I feel she desperately needs, and be required to follow set rules. She would lose her freedom, and that’s a kind of prison. And if she refuses to abide by the terms, the rules, then she would face prison. Her mother will try to fight me on this, but her father . . . I’ve already spoken to my son-in-law. We spoke at some length, and he will back me on this.”

Steadier, Florence picked up her tea again. “It’s your granddaughter and mine, Vi. Who would have thought we’d come here?”

Once again Viola took her hand. “Life’s full of hard bumps and slick twists. We do the best we can to drive it, start to finish.”

“Some days, best isn’t near to good enough. You’ll want time to think about this, Shelby.”

“It’s not that . . . it’s Griff she hurt, or hurt through what Arlo did.”

“It’s you she meant to.”

“All I want, I swear to you, Mrs. Piedmont, is for her to leave me and mine alone. I have a child to think of. I have a life to try to rebuild with my little girl, and I just want Melody to leave us be. If Griffin’s all right with what you said, I would be. He’s the one who ended up being hurt, whatever she meant.”

“I’ll speak to him, and we’ll all abide by his decision. I’m sick at heart he was hurt this way, that someone in my family would have caused it. I wonder, Viola, if you know from Jackson how much damage there is to the boy’s truck.”

“What Jackson told me just a bit ago on the phone, it’s a loss.”

“Oh, Granny.”

“Well, most anything can be fixed, but Jack says it wouldn’t be fixed right enough, and expects the insurance company to agree and total it out.”

“I’ll make it right. You have my word on it.”

“I never had any doubt on that, Flo.”

“I know you’re both busy, and I thank you so much for taking this time, and for your understanding. For your kindness.”

“I’m going to walk you out,” Viola said, sliding an arm around Florence’s waist as they both rose. “And I’m going to give you a brochure so you can think about coming back for a nice hot stone massage or a Restore Youth Facial.”

Shelby heard Florence laugh as they walked out. “It’s a late hour for restoring youth, isn’t it, Viola?”

“It’s never too late an hour, Flo. Never too late an hour.”

• • •

IT SEEMED TO Shelby the best thing to do was keep her head down and take each day as it came. She’d been far too much front and center on the gossip stage since her return to the Ridge. Experience told her some other news or interest would come along soon enough.

She felt just fine being front and center Friday night, performing doo-wop and rock and fifties ballads. The crowd seemed to feel just fine about it, too, and nobody got shot.

And since Callie was having a sleepover at Granny’s, topping Friday night off in Griff’s bed felt even more than fine.

Before and after her Saturday job, she hit her spreadsheet hard, meticulously paying bills, doing careful math.

And shaking her clasped hands at the ceiling when she paid off another credit card.

Three down, nine to go.

Straight after Sunday breakfast, she stood at the stove frying up chicken and listening to Callie squeal with delight while she played with the much-loved bubble maker.

Ada Mae came in, hugged Shelby from behind. “That’s the best sound in the world.”

“I know it. She’s so happy, Mama, it turns my heart inside out.”

“And how about you?”

“I’m about as happy as a little girl with a bubble machine.”

“You were in fine voice Friday night, baby girl. And so pretty up there in that blue dress.”

“I’m going to have fun with the sixties. I’ve been playing around some for next week. Tansy told me they’re going ahead for sure with that expansion. That’ll be exciting.”

“Good thing Griff and Matt are all but done here. I love my new bathroom like Callie loves her bubble maker.”

To demonstrate, Ada Mae did a neat pirouette and had Shelby grinning.

“They’re handy men. A handy man’s worth his weight in gold. You must’ve had a nice time after.”

Heat rose up the back of Shelby’s neck. “I did. Mama, you didn’t wait up, did you?”

“It’s not a matter of waiting up. You have a child under your roof—whether she’s fourteen or forty—you hear that car pull up the drive. And don’t even think about saying you’re sorry. It put a smile on my face thinking about you being with a good man. He puts a smile on your face, too.”

She knew just where her mother was going. “He does. I can admit I didn’t see myself having a nice time with any man for a long time yet. As it is, it’s a pretty surprise. Still, I can’t think past next week, not yet.”

“That’s all right. You take your time, give him a good test-drive.”

“Mama!”

“You think your generation invented sex? And you’re doing the sixties next week? That generation likely figured the same. Speaking of test-driving, I heard Florence Piedmont bought Griff a new truck.”

“He said she wouldn’t take no, turned it around so it felt like he’d be insulting her if he refused. Grandpa’s going to strip the wrecked one for parts, and Griff’s having the new truck painted with the logo.”

She paused as she drained some of the chicken.

“Did we do the right thing, Mama? Letting Melody get off with going to that rehabilitation center, anger management therapy and the like?”

“Next thing to a country club, I expect, and that just chafes my thighs. But down under it, I think it was the right thing. I don’t know as she’ll be coming back here, at least not for some time. I do know Miz Florence isn’t holding her job.”

“Oh.”

“And I expect you could have that job, if you wanted it.”

“I . . . No. I think I like just how things are. I like working at Granny’s, I like the girls and the work and the customers. I like knowing if something came up, nobody’d be upset if I had to take off to deal with it. And I do know, for certain, I wouldn’t want Melody’s old office, her old job, her old anything. Just . . . bad juju. You know what I mean, Mama?”

“I do. You’ve got your granny’s hand with fried chicken, girl. If you don’t want to look past next week yet, you’d better be careful. Chicken like that could drive a man to propose marriage.”

“I think I’m safe there.”

And safe, Shelby thought, was where she needed to be.

At noon when Griff pulled up in his rental truck, she had the hamper loaded and ready, and Callie in her yellow dress with a ribbon in her hair. She’d opted for jeans and her old hiking boots.

Callie rushed out before Griff got to the door, and launched herself at him.

“You look like a picnic, Little Red.”

“I got a bow.” Callie reached back to where the yellow ribbon trailed.

“I see that. Pretty as they come, and so’s your mom. Here, let me take that.”

“You’ve already got her. We’ll take my van since I know where we’re going. I’ve got the blankets in there already.”

“I’ve just got to get a couple things out of the truck.”

He strapped Callie in her car seat—expertly, Shelby noted. You didn’t have to show the man something twice. He walked to his rental truck, came back with a tote bag. “Contributions,” he said, and put them in the van with the hamper.

“I’m hoping this spot is as pretty as I remember. It’s been a while.”

She drove toward town, then veered off on a back road, just skimming by the holler while Callie chattered like a magpie. As she took the rise, navigated the switchbacks, it all came back to her. The sights, the smells.

The color.

Winding through the greens, the browns, yellow trillium and crested iris splashed, while the delicate trumpets of columbine played in dappled sunlight. There, or there, mountain laurel brightened the shadows, and lady’s slippers danced.

“Pretty. It’s pretty country,” Griff said when Callie shifted to conversation with the ever-present Fifi.

“It won’t be long till the wild rhododendrons pop out. I just love the green of it. The endless, rising green of it, and how the color from wildflowers comes and goes.”

She passed a little farmhouse where a boy about Callie’s age rolled on the scrubby grass with a yellow dog.

“See the puppy! Mama, when can I have a puppy?”

“Her newest obsession,” Shelby said under her breath. “Once we get our own house, we’ll think about that. We’re almost to our picnic spot,” she added, hoping to block the litany of follow-up questions.

She turned onto a narrow dirt road, bumped carefully along it. “This belongs to that little farm we just passed. Daddy’s delivered three babies in that house—might be more now since I’ve been gone—and made house calls for the grandmother until she passed. The family lets us use this road, and have picnics or hike back here. They set great store by my daddy.”

“So do I, since he cleared me to work.”

“Your eye’s looking some better.”

“I kissed it better, Mama, when I had my pizza date with Griff. Are we there yet?”

“We’re as far as we can drive.” She angled into the pull-off. “It’s not very far to walk. About a quarter-mile. It’s a little steep, though, and likely a little rough.”

“We’re up for it.”

He settled the logistics by hauling Callie up on his shoulders, taking the hamper. “Bag and blankets for you,” he told Shelby. “It’s so quiet here.”

He spotted a bold red cardinal watching them from a perch on a hawthorn tree.

“That’s not even the best part.”

“Nobody’s going to come out with a shotgun?”

“I asked Daddy to check if it was okay, and the family’s fine about it. We leave the land as we found it, that’s all. Though they might have discouraged revenuers that way, back in the Prohibition days. Plenty ran whiskey out of the hills and the hollers. My people among them—both sides.”

“Bootleggers.” It made him grin.

“It’d be hard to find a handful of people with native roots who didn’t have bootleggers on the family tree.”

“It was a dumbass law.”

“Dumbass,” Callie repeated, predictably.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not the first time. That’s a grown-up word, Callie.”

“I like grown-up words.” When she screamed, Griff shoved the hamper at Shelby, started to whip Callie down.

“A bunny! I saw a bunny rabbit!”

“Jesus—jeez,” Griff corrected. “You scared the . . . heck out of me, Little Red.”

“Catch the bunny rabbit, Griff! Catch it.”

“I didn’t bring my bunny rabbit catching tools.” With his heart still hammering, he took the hamper back, continued the climb.

When he topped the rise, he saw every step of the climb had been worth it.

“Okay, wow.”

“It’s just like I remembered. The stream, the trees, especially that big old black walnut. And just enough opening up so you can see some of the hills and valleys.”

“You’re in charge of all the picnic spots, from this day forward.”

“Hard to top this one, unless it’s at your place.”

When he put Callie down, she bulleted straight for the stream.

“Callie, don’t go close to the edge,” Shelby began, but Griff grabbed her hand and pulled her to the stream.

“Cool.” He crouched down beside Callie. “Look at all the little waterfalls. The shiny rocks.”

“I wanna go swimming!”

“It’s not deep enough for swimming, baby, but you can take your shoes and socks off, put your feet in. You can go wading.”

“’Kay. I can go wading, Griff!”

Callie plopped down, attacked her shoes while Shelby spread blankets beside the stream with its tumbling water, mossy logs, thickening ferns.

“Not worried about her getting the dress wet?” Griff asked.

“I’ve got a change for her in the bag. I’d like to know a little girl who wouldn’t want to splash in this stream.”

“You’re a pretty cool mom.”

While Callie stepped in to splash and squeal, Griff pulled the bottle, wrapped in its frozen cozy, out of his bag.

“Champagne?” After a surprised laugh, Shelby shook her head. “That’s going to put my fried chicken to shame.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She drank champagne, had the satisfaction of seeing Griff devour her chicken. She let Callie run off some energy chasing butterflies or going back for another splash.

And relaxed, as she realized she hadn’t, not really, since the morning she’d faced Arlo Kattery with bars between them.

And he’d have that view, she thought, through bars, for a long, long time.

But she had this—the green and the blue, the chirp and twitter of birds, the sun streaming through the trees to play shadows on the ground as her little girl played in the stream.

“You’re definitely hired,” Griff told her when he went back for another piece of chicken, another scoop of potato salad.

“Sitting here, it seems like nothing’s wrong in the world.”

“That’s why we need places like this.”

She reached out, trailed her fingers over the healing cut on his forehead. “Forrest said they still haven’t caught that Harlow person, and it makes me think he did what he came to do, and he’s long gone from here.”

“Makes the most sense.”

“Then why’d you follow me home at two in the morning on Friday night?”

“Because that makes sense to me, too. When are you going to let me follow you home again?”

Oh, she’d just been hoping he’d ask. “I guess I could see if Mama’s okay watching Callie one night this week.”

“Why don’t we go to the movies, then back to my place for a while?”

She smiled, thinking she had this, too. A movie date with a man who made her belly flutter. “Why don’t we? Callie, if you don’t eat your picnic lunch, there won’t be a cupcake in your future.”

Shelby marked it as a perfect Sunday afternoon, and driving back with Callie fighting sleep in the back, wondered how she could prolong it.

Maybe she’d see if Griff wanted to sit out on the porch while Callie napped. Or she could see if Emma Kate and Matt wanted to come over, and they could do up some burgers on the grill for supper later.

“I guess you’ve got things to do at your house.”

“There’s never a lack of things to do at my place. Why? Do you have something else in mind?”

“I was thinking, if you wanted to stay awhile, I’d see if Emma Kate and Matt wanted to come by later on. Have some wine, and grill some burgers.”

“More food? How could I say no?”

“I’ll see if it’s all right with Mama and Daddy, then . . .”

She trailed off as she pulled up to the house, saw her mother already running out.

“Oh God, what could’ve happened now?” She shoved out of the van. “Mama.”

“I was just about to text you. Gilly went into labor.”

“Oh, just now?”

“It’s been a few hours, but they didn’t say until they were heading in to the hospital. Daddy—my daddy’s got Jackson already. Daddy—your daddy—and I are heading into Gatlinburg to the hospital right now, and Forrest is bringing your granny. Clay says she’s moving fast. Oh, I don’t know why babies always put me in a tailspin.”

“It’s exciting, and it’s happy.”

“You should go,” Griff said. “You should be there.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put two preschoolers on my grandfather on his own.”

“I’ll take her. I’ve got Callie.”

“Oh, well, I—”

“I wanna go with Griff! Please, Mama, please. Griff, I wanna go to your house. Can I go to your house and play?”

“That would be the nicest thing,” Ada Mae said. “Shelby couldn’t be here when Jackson was born. It would sure mean a lot to us, Griff.”

“Done.”

“Yay! Yay!”

Shelby looked at her daughter’s shining face. “But it could be hours.”

“Not if Clay’s any judge. Clayton, you come on now!” Ada Mae shouted. “I’m not going to miss my grandbaby’s birth because you’re dawdling. Griff, thank you so much. Callie, you be good for Griff now, or I’ll know the reason why. Clayton Zachariah Pomeroy!” Ada Mae marched back toward the house.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“We’re sure, right, Callie?”

“Right! Let’s go, Griff.” Thrilled, she rubbed both her hands over his cheeks. “Let’s go to your house now.”

“Let me just . . .” Think what to do, Shelby mused. “I’ll just run in, get some things for her to play with.”

“I’ve got scissors and sticks for her to run with, and all those matches.”

“Aren’t you the funny one? Give me two minutes. And, well, you’d best just take my van in case you have to go somewhere with her. If I can borrow this truck.”

“It’s a rental. What do I care?”

“All right, then, all right. Two minutes. No, it’ll take me five. Five minutes.”

She raced toward the house as her mother came out dragging her father.

“Ada Mae, I’m a doctor, and I’m telling you, there’s plenty of time.”

“Oh, don’t doctor me. You tell me about plenty of time when you’ve given birth. We’re going, Shelby!”

“I’ll be behind you in five minutes. I know how to get there.”

Griff leaned back against the van beside Callie’s window. “We’re going to have some fun, Little Red.”