“Uncle Zed, how long have you been up? Those take at least two hours.” She reached for one with light-brown maple frosting. “Oh. My. God! These are just like I remember you making for us when we were little girls.”

“That’s for you, but it stays in my kitchen.” He pointed to what looked like a book of some kind lying on the table. “I never shared it with nobody, but I want you to have it, long as you promise me it’ll never leave the kitchen.”

She licked the frosting off her hands and scooted it across the table. “What is it?”

He handed her a wet paper towel. “Wash your hands first. Paper is old and kinda brittle.”

Hand stitched and resembling a miniature patchwork quilt, the fabric cover and the hand-crocheted lace around the edges were frayed in some areas. Three strips of leather held it together. Almost afraid to even touch it, she ran a soft, feathery finger over the tiny stitches. Someone had been quite a seamstress to make all those pieces fit so well together.

“It’s called a double wedding ring design. My grandma gave my mama a big quilt for her bed when she got married that had that same pattern to it.”

She carefully laid the cover back to the first page where Mama’s Recipes was written in spidery handwriting.

“Oh, Uncle Zed!” she said when she opened it.

“It belonged to my grandma, but we ain’t too sure if it was her grandma’s or if it’s been passed down even more generations than that. It was one of my mama’s prize possessions. She used it to make the blue-plate specials right here at this café, and then it was mine when she passed on. I want it to be yours, so you’ll be able to keep up our traditions.”

“Thank you, but I won’t need it for a long, long time.”

“Never know when the good Lord might knock on the door.”

She turned the page to see that every single recipe was handwritten. “This is priceless. It belongs in a museum. Oh, my goodness, so that’s what makes your ham so sweet. You pour blackberry wine over it before you put it in the oven.”

“And cook it real slow. Don’t hurry good food. Now, burgers and hot dogs and fast food is another thing. And, honey, you got to promise me that this book will always be kept in our kitchen,” he said with seriousness.

“I promise. Thank you, Uncle Zed. I’ll cherish it forever and take care of it like the gem it is.” Harper covered the distance and hugged him.

“Now don’t go gettin’ all sentimental on me. Finish your doughnut, and if you want another one of them maple ones you’d better grab it, because I see Dana and Brook comin’ this way.” He picked up the recipe book and carried it with him back to the kitchen. “This will be on the first shelf of the old cash safe back there. Combination is taped under the table since I have trouble rememberin’ it. We don’t use it for much anymore but your granny’s will and letters, since everyone pays with credit cards.”

“Uncle Zed.” She touched her heart and bit back the tears. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey, doughnuts!” Brook squealed. “That chocolate one on the top is mine.”

“You better not get both of the chocolate ones,” Tawny yelled from the doorway. “Guess what—I’ve got a date.”

“If it’s with Marcus Green, I’m going to use my executive power as the oldest sister and have you locked up in a convent,” Dana teased.

“Nick?” Brook asked.

Tawny reached for a chocolate doughnut. “Yep.”

“I knew it before you did,” Brook singsonged. “He told his family that he was going to, but he was afraid you’d say no.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Tawny bit into the doughnut.

Harper picked up a broom and swept the floor even though it didn’t need it. The conversation concerning what all they were going to do that Saturday was a distant buzz as she let her mind wander back to March 15 and the mistrust between them when they’d all arrived at Annie’s Place. So much had changed in such a short time, and most of it had been for the good. Little blonde-haired girls didn’t send her to the liquor cabinet anymore. She would never forget the baby that she’d given away, but she was beginning to feel a little less guilty.

Granny Annie used to say that love conquered everything. That could turn out to be her most profound statement, because there was a song in Harper’s heart since Wyatt had said those three words to her the night before. It wasn’t something that she could hum along to or one that even had words, but it was a song of joy and peace. Then Zed had put the icing on the cake that morning when he gave her that book, giving her his trust to keep it safe but also his confidence in her to take care of the café when he was gone.

“And that’s going to be a long, long time from now,” she echoed her earlier words.

“What did you say?” Tawny asked.

“That it just dawned on me that Monday is Uncle Zed’s birthday. I saw it on the calendar in the kitchen yesterday—in Granny’s handwriting and he’d drawn lines through it like a canceled appointment,” she said.

“Let’s do a surprise party around the fire pit and make him start another story,” Brook whispered. “And have cake and ice cream. What’s his favorite food?”

Harper leaned on the broom. “I bet I can find out.”