“Hot Pursuit,” Brook yelled as she and Tawny came through the back door.

“I thought y’all were out until eleven o’clock,” Dana said.

“We got bored and thought about going to a movie, but I wasn’t spending my hard-earned money for that when we got better food and more comfortable chairs at home.” Brook removed her jacket and set two bags on the floor. “I found a pair of jeans on a half-price rack and two shirts seventy-five percent off.”

“She’s a shrewd shopper.” Tawny glanced over at Harper. “What are you doin’ here? Is that Dana’s trail mix?”

“Yes, it is, and I’m here to watch a movie,” Harper answered.

“So is Aunt Tawny. Yay!” Brook clapped her hands. “We can all watch it together. Y’all seen Hot Pursuit?”

Harper and Tawny both shook their heads.

“Well, you’re goin’ to love it.” Brook grabbed a pillow and a throw from the sofa and tossed them on the floor. “This is my spot. Y’all can have the sofa and the recliner.”

There were two good things about watching a comedy—no one had to talk, and they felt good when it ended. As soon as the credits began to roll, Harper carried the glasses and Tawny’s beer bottle to the kitchen, thanked Dana for the evening, and left by way of the back door.

Dana watched her leave and wondered again what had changed Harper from that fun-loving teenager into a person with so many demons.

“That was fun,” Tawny said.

“We’ll have to make it a Friday night date.” Brook yawned. “Movies and popcorn at our house.”

“We’ll see. Thanks for loaning me your daughter and for the movie and trail mix,” Tawny said.

“And the beer? Hey, Mama, when can I have a beer on movie night?” Brook asked.

“When you are forty and not a day earlier,” Dana chuckled.

“She’s not ever goin’ to let me grow up,” Brook groaned.

Tawny gave Brook a quick hug on her way out the door. “Don’t get in a rush to do that, kiddo. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Good night.”

Surprisingly, almost shockingly, they’d managed to spend a couple of hours in one another’s presence without insults bouncing off the walls—and Uncle Zed wasn’t even there. Later, Harper was sitting on her porch when Tawny passed by, so she stopped and sat down on the step.

“You remind me of that cop in the movie,” Harper said.

“In looks or in actions?”

“Both,” Harper told her. “Mother was right. You are the pretty one.”

“She said that?” Tawny wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

“Said that God made you pretty to make up for the fact that you were a girl. Daddy wanted a son so bad, but she said she wouldn’t do that to her body a third time for any man on the face of the earth. And that he was cursed for having a bastard to begin with.”

Tawny let it soak in for a little while. “Guess it’s not much of a compliment after all, is it.”

“Better than being the tall, gangly daughter that looked like Granny Annie. Too big to ever be pretty,” Harper said.

“Looking like Granny is not a bad thing, is it?” Tawny asked.

“It seemed like it was at the time. If she said it now, I’d thank her.” Harper smiled.

“For a couple of privileged kids, we sure got a lot of baggage, don’t we?” Tawny said. “Seems like Dana has less than we do, and our father wouldn’t even claim her. ’Course, he wouldn’t stand up to Mother for us, either.”

“Crazy, ain’t it?”

Tawny yawned. “Tomorrow comes around pretty early. I’m going to bed.”

“Me too.” Harper stood up and stretched with her hands over her head.

Tawny had always envied Harper for her height and her brown eyes. She was anything but an ugly duckling. Tawny was suddenly sorry that their mother had made her feel like that. But then Retha had never considered anyone else’s feelings—except maybe her husband’s, and then only if it suited her mood and her need for his paycheck. She’d always been his trophy wife with her gorgeous blonde hair and big blue eyes.

“I wonder if he ever had a mistress,” Tawny mused as she passed cabin after cabin.

“If he did, he better hope his wife don’t find out about it,” a voice said from the porch of cabin number six.

The masculine voice startled her. She stopped in her tracks and tried to remember who was renting that particular unit. Finally the face that went with that deep drawl materialized.

“Evenin’, Mr. Richman,” she said.

“That makes me sound like an old man. I’m just Tony, not Mr. Richman,” he chuckled. “But it is a right nice evenin’, ain’t it?” He leaned forward and rested his hands on the porch railing.

Tawny remembered him checking in, but it was a blur with all she had to do that day. Now she could see that his clear blue eyes were rimmed with heavy black lashes and his smile lit up the whole porch.

“Yes, it is. Supposed to be in the eighties tomorrow. Good fishin’ weather,” Tawny said.

“I don’t fish. I’m here because my wife threw me out.”

Tawny was not a sounding board for domestic fights, but he reminded her so much of her last boyfriend that she sat down on his porch. “Did you deserve it?”