She caught it in midair and stuck it in the lock but couldn’t make herself turn it.

The tailgate squeaked as he got it completely down. “This thing needs some oil applied to it. What’re you waitin’ on, girl, Christmas?”

“Maybe Easter,” she tried to tease, but it fell flat.

“Well, that’s still two weeks away, and the nights are cold. You’ll get your death of the pneumonia if you sleep on the porch. Open that door.” He set two suitcases on the porch and went back for boxes.

She sucked in so much air that her chest ached and then let it out slowly as she unlocked the door. Drapes were open on the big back window overlooking tall pines, willows, and a few scrub oak trees. She crossed the floor and watched a bunny rabbit hop along the edge of the wooded area and a couple of squirrels chase each other through the tree limbs. Birds flitted around, singing songs about spring.

Zed shoved the suitcases inside. “Lake living at its best. None of that cable television crap or Wi-Fi stuff, either.”

She turned around quickly. “That’s enough for you to lift and carry, Uncle Zed. I was woolgathering. I’ll get the rest. Thank you for all you’ve done. Especially being with Granny Annie in her last weeks. I’d have been here if you would have called.”

“She wouldn’t let me, and you know how she could be once she set her mind to something.” The sigh that escaped from him sounded as if it came all the way from the depths of his soul. “It sure won’t be the same without her.”

Harper swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to go down. “I thought she’d live forever. She was my rock.” She didn’t want Zed to leave her alone in the cabin—not yet. She needed just a few more minutes before the memories came flooding in like she knew they would.

“She was everyone’s rock, darlin’,” Zed whispered.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “She told me more than once that you and my grandpa Seamus and she had always been great friends. I bet you could tell us all some stories.”

Zed eased down into a straight-back chair on the other side of the room. “Maybe someday. Only time I was ever away from her was those years I was in the army. She wrote me a letter every day when I was in Vietnam. I still got them all.”

Harper laid her sunglasses on the bed. “Never knew you was in Vietnam.”

“I don’t talk about it much. I didn’t like bein’ away from family. When I came home, Annie hired me to be the handyman, since my daddy passed away that year. It was 1966. I thought I’d stay in the army when I enlisted right out of high school, but that first six-year hitch was enough for me. I came home and Seamus and Annie put me to work. Then, less than two years later, in 1968, my mama died and I took over in the kitchen. Been cookin’ for almost fifty years now.”

“I don’t ever remember you not bein’ here,” Harper said.

“Of course you don’t. I remember the first time your daddy brought you here and me and Annie got to hold you. Lord, that was a wonderful day for sure.” A weak smile turned up his mouth. “I always liked it when you girls called me Uncle Zed. Y’all with your blonde hair and all.”

Harper crossed the room and patted him on the shoulder. “Sometimes blood ain’t a bit thicker than water. You’ve been a wonderful friend and a great uncle.”

Zed laid a wrinkled hand on hers. “Thank you, child. Now I’d best get on over to the café. I’m makin’ hamburgers and fries for everyone to eat before the lawyer gets here. Tawny should be here by noon herself.”

“Please tell me that you won’t leave until . . .” Harper let the sentence trail off.

“I’ll leave when the undertaker takes my body away or else when one of you girls fires me.” Zed rose up from the chair and grabbed his handkerchief to cover a wicked cough. “This here is my home, Harper. If I live until the end of next month, it’ll be seventy-two years since I was born right out there in a little frame house.” He pointed toward the lake. “And I’ll die here. I’ll see you at noon, right?”

“I’d crawl through broken glass to get to one of your burgers.” She smiled. “Uncle Zed, that cough sounds serious. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Lots of times, my child. Me and Annie always went together, every three months until she got the tumor, then we went more often. Don’t you worry your pretty head about me,” he said as left the cabin.

She threw a suitcase on the bed and shut her eyes. A vision of Wyatt wearing nothing but lipstick kiss marks on his face floated behind her eyelids. The only thing she had on was a cowboy hat, and he chased her around the bed until she finally let him catch her. Then they fell back on a god-awful green plaid bedspread and made that kind of wild love reserved only for teenagers with raging hormones. When she opened her eyes, she realized that the bed was now covered with a puffy white duvet. That thing wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to wrap around her body and pretend that she was a medieval princess when Wyatt declared he was a knight in shining armor.

“Flora might be gettin’ up in years, but she still knows how to make a room look nice,” she mumbled as she made her way to the bathroom. She noticed that the television on top of the chest of drawers had been upgraded to a flat screen, but she’d be willing to bet it still only got two channels.