Holly narrowed her eyes, turned around, and gave him another drop-dead look.

“Well, they are.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Lily came to the end of the drive and parked her car in front of the house. When she had come home for a visit, her mother, Vera, had always been on the porch swing, waiting for her. But not today. The old blue swing looked lonely, like it was waiting to tell stories, and it could sure enough tell a lot. That was where Lily had gotten her first kiss when she was Holly’s age. That was where she would’ve lost her virginity after the junior prom if her mother hadn’t switched on the porch light five minutes before curfew.

She took a deep breath and got out of the car. “Y’all can come on in or freeze out here. It’s up to you, but it looks like rain. That means all those boxes on the porch could get wet. It would make for a lot of laundry. Which reminds me—Saturday mornings will be for cleaning and getting the laundry done. I figure that a few chores might help keep you out of trouble. Be sure not to wash your white things with red or you’ll have pink underwear.”

“God!” Holly moaned. “Is there anything else? Like maybe making us live on bread and water for a year?”

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Braden flung the rear door open, got out of the car, and started toward the house.

Holly did the same, only she stomped every step of the way. When she reached the door, Lily called out, “You might as well pick up one of your boxes and carry it upstairs to your room. They aren’t going to grow wings and float up there for you.”

Holly looked over her shoulder and rolled her big blue eyes toward the gray skies. “Why didn’t the movers put them in the rooms where they belonged?”

“Because I told them to leave them on the porch,” Lily answered. “And I told Mack not to bring them inside. So get on with it, my darlin’s. It’ll be a big mess if it rains on them.”

She almost felt sorry enough for Braden to help him, but then she remembered her own shock, dismay, and disappointment over the preceding events.

Mack threw open the door. It had been years since she’d seen him, and her first impression right then was nothing short of shock. He was a little heavier than he’d been five years ago when he’d attended her mother’s funeral, but it was in all the right places. His broad shoulders and huge biceps strained the seams of his oatmeal-colored knit shirt. Faded jeans hugged his big thighs, and his cowboy boots were scuffed and worn, marking him for a real rancher, not a Saturday-night wannabe. She’d forgotten what a good-looking man he was, and now she was going to be living in the same house with him.

“Hey, y’all made it. I thought I heard a car drive up. Come right in. Here, Braden, let me help you with that. It’s about to drag you down, boy.”

Braden glanced at his mother. Lily sighed. “If Mack wants to help, that’s fine by me. But you have to do the unpacking. I’ll check your rooms later to see that everything is put away.”

“Thank you, sir,” Braden said respectfully.

Lily picked up one of her own boxes and followed them into the foyer and up the narrow staircase to the second floor. Holly fell in behind her and huffed all the way to the top as if she were toting a pregnant elephant up the steps, when in all actuality, the box had nightshirts and underwear written on the side of it.

“I’ve got a pot of loaded potato soup simmering, and corn bread is ready to go in the oven. Where do I put this, Braden?” Mack asked.

“Mama says we’ll have the same rooms we did when we were little kids and came to visit Grandma and Grandpa, so this one.” He pointed to one of the four bedrooms. “Potato soup’s the best—I’m starving.”

“You unpack that one while I bring the rest of your stuff up, and then I’ll help Holly,” Mack said.

“I can get my own,” Holly smarted off.

Lily’s stern look must have had an effect, because Holly added, “But thank you for the offer.”

“Sure thing,” Mack said. “If you change your mind, I’ll be glad to help out.”

Braden had ripped the tape off the top of his first box and was busy taking things out when Lily and Mack started back down the stairs. Memories seemed to reach out from the corners and grab her. Nothing had changed, not even the pictures of herself and her sister lining the staircase wall. The one of them together on the swing set out in the backyard sent a single tear down Lily’s face. That was the last picture taken before Rosemary was diagnosed with a brain tumor and died six months later.

“I remember when you and your sister looked like that,” Mack said.

She wiped the tear away. “I should’ve come back and taken care of this place years ago, but I had too much on my plate.”

“Facing old memories isn’t easy,” Mack said. “You haven’t changed much since high school. I would have known you anywhere.”

“You either,” Lily said. “Except I don’t remember you wearing glasses back then. Do you and Adam look any more alike now than you did then?”

“If anything, we look even more different.” When they reached the door, Mack held it open for her. “He’s a banker in San Antonio and—”

“Still chasing anything that wears a skirt?” Lily asked.

“You got that right. He just told me this morning he was about to get his third divorce.” Mack looked up at the sky. “Hey, I just got the first drop of rain on my face. Let’s just push all these inside to the foyer so they don’t get wet.”

“Thank you for helping, and for not minding if we move in here.” She picked up a couple of lightweight boxes and shoved them to the back of the foyer, past the hall tree and the two ladder-back chairs. Work boots were shoved up under one of the chairs. They belonged to Mack and weren’t the same style her father had worn, but they still reminded her of seeing Frank Miller’s boots in the same place. He had passed away a year before her mother. The things she’d missed the most when she came home when her father was alive were seeing his boots under the chair and his favorite coffee mug right beside the old percolator.

“Mom-maaa . . .” Holly’s pitiful scream floated from above.

Lily stopped what she was doing and flew up the stairs with Mack right behind her. She was out of breath when she hit the top step, but she caught her second wind and rushed into Holly’s room.

“What is it?” Lily panted.

Holly spun around, pointing at every wall. “There’s no closet in this room. The dresser only has three drawers, and look at that tiny mirror. The lighting is horrible. How am I supposed to put on my makeup, and where am I supposed to hang my clothes?”

“You sounded like you were dying!” Lily grabbed the doorjamb and fanned herself.

“You’ve taken away everything, including my closet, where I—” Holly stopped herself short and threw herself backward on the bed.

“Where you what? Hide your marijuana?” Lily asked. “See that?” She pointed toward a sturdy clothes rack in the corner. “That’s what I used for a closet when I lived here, and I’m still alive. I don’t expect it will kill you to use it until you go away to college.”

Holly sat up and let one trained tear roll down her cheek. “Please take us home. I will never smoke pot again in my life, or drink or sneak out at night or—” She clamped a hand over her mouth.