The Liar

“The men, too. Oh, there’s been some divorces, and some of them bitter, cousins and aunts and so on scattered through. But I can trace a direct line back, seven generations of women I know of, and not one of them raised a child in a broken home. I didn’t want to be the first.”

She shrugged, picked up her wine again, determined to lighten the mood. “Now, it’s true enough my great-great-granny on my mama’s side had three husbands. The first died fighting a blood feud with the Nash clan. He was only about eighteen when—so it’s said—Harlan Nash bushwhacked him and shot him in the back, leaving my great-great-granny with three children and another on the way. She married her first husband’s third cousin, and had time to make two children with him before he died of a fever. Then she up and married a big Irishman named Finias O’Riley. She was about twenty-two, and bore him six more children.”

“Wait, I’m doing the math. Twelve kids? She had twelve kids?”

“She did, and unlike a lot of women of her time and place, lived to the age of ninety-one. She outlived five of her children, which must have been a burden, and lost her Finias, who was sheriff around here, so Forrest comes by his tendency natural, when she was eighty-two and he eighty-eight. My great-granny, who lives in Tampa, Florida, with her oldest daughter, would say she— Her name was Loretta, but they called her Bunny always.”

“Prophetic, considering.”

With a snicker, Shelby lifted her glass again. “They say she might’ve married again, as she had a gentleman caller, a widower who’d bring her flowers every week, but he died before she’d made up her mind. I’d like to think I could draw a gentleman caller at that age.”

“I’ll bring you flowers.”

“Then if I don’t see you on my doorstep in sixty years, I’m going to be disappointed.”

•   •   •

IT RELIEVED HIM that dinner was not only edible, but actually tasty. She entertained him with the story of Melody’s eviction from the salon. He’d already heard a couple of versions, but hearing it from her, could visualize it perfectly.

“What’s her problem anyway?”

“She’s been a bully since I’ve known her. Spoiled, superior, with that mean streak you mentioned yourself. Her mama doted on her, and does still. Pushed her into all the beauty pageants, even as a little thing. And she won most of them, then sashayed all around being important.”

“Sashayed. Not a word you hear every day.”

“It suits. She almost always got what she wanted whenever she wanted it. Can’t say she’s shown any gratitude for it. She’s hated me for as long as I can remember.”

“Probably because she knew if you’d entered those pageants, you’d have beaten her little beauty-queen ass.”

“I don’t know about that, but I beat her out of some of what she wanted. Simple as that.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, silly things—or they are now. A boy she wanted when we were about fourteen, and he liked me. She got Arlo Kattery to beat him up—I know she did, but Arlo wouldn’t say. I made captain of our cheerleading squad—all through high school—and she wanted that. Grandpa fixed up this old clunker of a Chevy so I didn’t have to walk home after practice. She spray-painted ‘slut’ and worse all over it. I know it was her, because when I called her on it, Jolene looked so damn guilty. Same as she looked guilty the night of the Homecoming dance when I got voted queen and the windshield of that old Chevy was busted up, and the tires slashed.”

“She’s sounding more pathological than annoying now.”

“She’s just mean. I guess some people are, and if they never pay a real price for it, they just get meaner. She doesn’t worry me, especially since she’s banned from the salon and day spa.

“You made a wonderful meal, Griffin. Maybe you are a good catch.”

“I’m telling you.”

“I’m going to help you put this kitchen back to rights, then I need to get on.”

He traced a finger down her arm. “No way you could stay?”

He had those wonderful green eyes, those rough, skilled, thorough hands, and a way of kissing her that just put sparkles into her blood.

“It’s tempting, because that porch is still out there. It’s a lot more tempting than I thought it would be. But I wouldn’t feel right, not going home tonight to Callie.”

“Maybe I could have a pizza date with Callie between now and the picnic.”

“Oh, that’d be nice, but I’ve got such a busy week. I need to rehearse, and—”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Still he leaned over, kissed her. “Any problem with me taking Little Red for pizza?”

“I . . . I guess not. She’d really like it.” She rose, carried the plates to the sink. “Are you sure you want to take this on, Griffin?”

“Callie, or you?”

“We’re a set.”

“Nice set.”

He distracted her with talk of plans for the house while they loaded the dishwasher. He liked running his ideas and plans by someone who understood them, saw the potential.

“The one thing you need, and before much longer, is a porch swing. You can’t have a beautiful front porch like that and not have a front porch swing.”

“Front porch swing, check. Back porch?”