“No problem. I’ll get the key and meet you there,” she said.

He was on the porch when she arrived. She unlocked the door with the old-fashioned key hanging on a big plastic fob with the number of the cabin printed on it. He followed her inside, got his razor, and was back out in seconds.

“Thanks, Tawny. I just got this one a week ago and I’d hate to buy another one.” He tipped his straw hat toward her. “Now, I’d better get on out of here and not take up any more room. There’ll be a big rush at noon. Everyone in these parts knows about Zed’s Sunday blue-plate special.”

“Which is?” Tawny asked as she locked the door.

“Chicken and dressin’ and all the fixin’s. I’d like to stay, but I’ve got to get home.” He grinned.

“I remember that you and your grandpa stayed in the number one cabin and he played the harmonica in the evenings,” she said.

“That’s right. He loved music. See you next Thursday. I’ve got a crew of four comin’ to stay over until Sunday. We’re already on the books,” he said.

As he drove away, Tawny realized she was late for the lunch crowd, so she rushed over to the café. She’d barely made it inside the door when Harper handed her two pitchers full of tea and said, “Where have you been? You’re supposed to help out with the cash register during lunch hour.”

“Talkin’ to your crush from ten years ago.”

Harper shot a dirty look her way. “You can help pour tea until someone needs to be rung up.”

Tawny shook her head. “This is not my job.”

Harper backed up. “You can either help me out, or I’ll call Flora or Brook to do it and you can go to the laundry room. We’re all in this together, whether we like it or not.”

“I’m doin’ this for Uncle Zed, not you. These are sticky and need washing. I’ll use a couple of new ones for refills.” Tawny set the pitchers down, pasted on a beautiful smile, and started making her way from table to table. Everyone had something kind to say about her grandmother, so it turned out not so bad. The line waiting outside stretched around the café and halfway to the front door of the store.

Harper picked up the pitchers, carried them to the kitchen, and sank them in a sink full of hot soapy water.

Zed’s face appeared in the window. “I’ve got an extra pumpkin pie put aside for y’all girls and Flora to share when the rush is over.”

“You are a sweetheart, Uncle Zed,” she said and then stuck her tongue out at Harper.

Harper reached out and slid a fistful of soap down her younger sister’s tongue.

Tawny spit and sputtered, grabbed a paper towel to get the soap out of her mouth, and then slapped Harper on the upper arm. “That was downright mean. Be careful. Last person who thought they could fight with me has a package of frozen peas on her eyes.”

“Don’t mess with me. I’m not in the mood for it,” Harper said.

“You haven’t been any fun since we were here last. Loosen up, sister. We’ve come home.” Tawny filled two clean pitchers with tea from the huge container and went back to her second job.

Home.

Do you really believe that? the voice in her head asked.

It’s the one place that I’ve always felt like I could be myself. Granny never told me that she was ashamed of me or that she wished she’d never had me, Tawny thought.

CHAPTER SIX

Harper propped her feet, encased only in socks, on the porch railing and leaned back in her chair that Thursday evening. March 22—that’s what the calendar said, which meant they’d been there a whole week. The evenings had gotten a little warmer as they all settled into their routines more firmly. Until summer, according to Zed, the main part of their business would be on the weekends. In some ways it seemed like the three of them had always lived at the tiny little resort; in others, she wondered why she was wasting her life in a place like this.

As usual, she knew that Wyatt wasn’t far away long before he spoke. There was that little lilt in her heart like it floated. He handed her an icy-cold beer in a can, and she held it against her forehead a couple of seconds.

“So how’s your week been?”

“Hours drag some through the days, but the week went by pretty fast.”

He sat down on the porch step. “How’s the chin healin’?”

“I took the strips off this mornin’. Don’t look like it’s goin’ to scar.” She popped the tab on the can and quickly sucked the foam off before it could run down the sides. “I’m usually a whiskey girl, but this tastes really good.” Maybe she only liked beer when she drank it with Wyatt.

“I always bring a case of cold ones for the crew. Room, food, beer on the first night they arrive, and three days of fishin’ for four customers at one low, low price.” He grinned.

“Sounds like you should be in advertising.” She set the beer on the porch rail and clapped her hands dramatically. “But wait! If you book your trip now, Wyatt will throw in a special made-in-a-third-world-country cooler to keep your catch in until you get home.”

He chuckled and put up a palm, “But wait! If you book two trips, Wyatt will provide an honest-to-God old-time fish fry at the edge of the lake. Fish, hush puppies, beer, and fried potatoes.”