“She’s still tellin’ us what to do, is she?”

“Yep.” Zed nodded. “Nice ain’t it?”

“Why number seven?” Tawny asked.

Zed shrugged. “Rest of them is going to be full come Friday night. I’d offer to help you unload, but I got to get the food ready.”

“I’m glad you are still here, Uncle Zed,” she said.

“Ain’t no place but here for me, girl. This is my home.”

“Harper drunk?” Tawny asked.

“Didn’t appear to be. Maybe tired and a lot sad,” Zed answered.

“Dana bossy?”

“She comes by that honest enough through Annie. But mostly she was feelin’ bad that she hadn’t been around in a while, just like you’re feelin’. You stayin’ out of trouble?”

“Tryin’ to, Uncle Zed, but it seems to find me. I’m hopin’ this place might reform me. There ain’t nothin’ to do out here except fish.”

“And work. And both of them are four-letter words.” Zed left with a wave of his bony hand. “I’ll see all y’all in the café at twelve sharp. If you ain’t there when I serve them up, then you can eat your burgers and fries cold.”

“I’ll be there. That’ll give me time to get my stuff out of the car. And thanks, Uncle Zed, for not putting me right next door to Harper.”

“Y’all need to be friends, not enemies,” Zed said. “Annie’s biggest wish was that you’d be close family someday.”

“Ain’t damn likely,” Tawny said as she got into her car and drove the short distance to her cabin.

An older truck was parked in front of cabin number twelve and, from where she was parked, she could see a crew-cab pickup down by the house. “So that’s what Harper is driving these days. Looks like maybe Dana has been a little more prosperous, but then, she’s older.”

Who are you to judge anyone after the trouble you’ve been in? The voice in her head belonged to her granny for sure.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Tawny said out loud as she pulled into the spot in front of number seven.

I told you about that rotten boy. I knew he was trouble when y’all stopped by here last summer. Pompous and egotistical and downright rude, but you wouldn’t listen. So it was your fault. Now it was her mother’s voice in her head.

“Well, now that’s a first. Mama and Granny agreeing on anything might bring on a tornado right here on the lake.” Tawny checked the skies, but there wasn’t even a white fluffy cloud up there in all the clear blue.

She stepped out of the car and unlocked the cabin door.

“Twin beds,” she groaned. Granted, the cabin was bigger than the one-room apartment that she’d had in Austin, and either of the beds would be better than the lumpy mattress she’d slept on the past three months, but she’d hoped that she’d get a unit with a queen-or king-size bed.

“I guess beggars can’t be choosers, right, Granny? You used to tell us that all the time when we were kids.” She choked up, and her lower lip and chin quivered. Why, oh, why hadn’t she made time to come see her grandmother in the last three months?

Leaving the suitcases and boxes inside the door, she headed to the café. A strong wind whipped her long, honey-blonde hair around in her face, so she worked a ponytail holder up from the pocket of her skinny jeans. By the time she had her hair pulled up, she’d reached the door but couldn’t force herself to go inside, so she sat down on the bench.

Lake water mixed with a stronger minnow smell floated on the wind, but it didn’t overpower the aroma of grilled onions coming out of the café. Bless Zed’s heart, he had to be heartbroken. He and Granny had been friends their whole lives, and instead of the sisters taking care of him, he was in there cooking for them. If he could do that, then she could damn sure face Dana and Harper. With new courage, she popped up off the bench and ducked inside, only to find the dining area completely empty. A dozen tables were arranged with four to six chairs around each one—just like they’d always been. The only difference was one covered with a white cloth that had been pushed into a corner. It was laden with desserts of all kinds.

“Have a seat anywhere.” Zed stuck his head through the serving window between the dining room and the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready. The ladies of the church brought all them desserts to you girls. Don’t know why. Annie hadn’t set foot in that place in more than thirty years. Maybe they’re tryin’ to get rid of the guilt they’ve been carryin’ around about the way they treated her. But that’s between them and their God.”

“Chocolate cake sure looks good,” Tawny said. “What guilt?”

“Whole bunch of them was ugly when your grandpa died,” Zed answered. “Don’t you be eatin’ one bite until you finish your real food.” He shook his finger at her and set a platter with eight big burgers on the serving ledge and followed it with another of tomatoes, lettuce, and pickles. “You take that on out to one of the tables. I’ll bring the french fries. Reckon you can go on and eat. I told everyone twelve sharp, and well, now, there’s Harper, and I believe that would be Dana and Brook right behind her.”

Harper pulled off her sunglasses, and a quick glance around the café let her know that nothing had changed in that area. The menu was above the counter where Flora usually took orders until right after the lunch rush—if there was one. Burgers, hot dogs, fries, and the daily blue-plate special. Mainly good old-fashioned home cooking that folks came from miles around to get. Harper suddenly wished it was Friday, because that was the day that Zed made his famous pot roast and hot rolls. And on Sunday he always made chicken and dressing, cranberry sauce from scratch, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn on the cob. That day drew folks in by the droves, and there was always a long line.