“Yeah, right.” April folded her arms across her chest and turned to stare out the window.
“We don’t need to air our dirty laundry in public.” Flynn shot stern looks across the table.
“I think that concludes our business,” Paul interjected, “but maybe I will remind you, again, that on the second page of the will, it states that Jackson Devereaux, your next-door neighbor, not only has possession of the hope chest, but he also has the key that opens it. The Blossom Quilting Club will inspect your quilt when it is finished, and if they give you a passing grade on it, he will open the chest to add the quilt to whatever it holds. Then the chest itself will remain in his custody until one of you gets married.” Paul closed his briefcase. “My business card is attached to each of your copies of the will. If you have questions, feel free to call.”
“Thank you,” Flynn said. “We appreciate you meeting us here.”
“You are welcome.” He smiled and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Blossom isn’t that far from Paris, and I’ll take any excuse to come to Weezy’s. I love their pies.” He picked up his briefcase and disappeared out the door.
“Well, you’ve each got a thousand dollars,” Flynn said. “Are y’all really serious about leaving or staying? I think I’ll stick around. My curiosity wants to know what’s in the hope chest.”
Besides, I need a place to see if I can become a better man, he thought as stared at the menu. I don’t like the person I am right now. I need some direction, and I hope coming back to Blossom will turn me around.
“I’m not going anywhere. I finished up the school year yesterday, and I don’t go back to Turkey, Texas, until the middle of August”—Nessa picked up a menu—“if I go back at all. I’m serious about that much anyway. I may look for a job in this area. It all depends on how things go around here.” She picked up the menu.
April shrugged. “I don’t have anyplace to go. I’ve been living out of my car again for the past week, and I’m broke. Flynn, are you looking forward to quilting?”
“No, I’m not.” Flynn said. “But I learned to do all kinds of things when I had to move in with Dad, so I can manage to thread a needle and sew on a button. Don’t worry about me. I’ll do my share, and I’m here for the summer, too. Let’s have something to eat before we go out to the house—I’m starving. It’s my treat today, but don’t expect it to happen very often.” He couldn’t bear to see anyone go hungry, not even his pesky cousins, who had driven him crazy when they had been teenagers.
“I’ll have a chicken-fried steak.” Nessa focused on Flynn. “Are you still buying?”
“Yes, I am.” Flynn flashed one of the smiles that had always drawn women to him like flies to a jar of honey. He had gotten his brown eyes and dark hair from his Latina mother, but he’d gotten his charm from his father, the girls’ uncle Matthew. His short height he could blame on Nanny Lucy, since she had been barely five feet tall.
All that oozing charm wasn’t necessarily a good thing because, when it came to women, the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence for both Uncle Matthew and Flynn O’Riley. Uncle Matthew was working on his fifth wife these days—Nessa’s brow wrinkled when she frowned—or was it his sixth? The way he changed wives, he would never live long enough to see a golden anniversary. Flynn had followed in his father’s footsteps and had flitted from one woman to another since he was fifteen. The only difference between the two O’Riley men was that Flynn had never married—or stayed with one woman long enough to form a relationship.
They were a far cry from Nessa’s father, Isaac, who had married his college sweetheart thirty-five years earlier and had pastored a huge all-faith church near Canyon, Texas, for the past twenty years. Nessa figured he never even glanced at the grass on the other side of the fence, and if he had, her mother, Cora, would have taken him straight to the cleaners. If religion could be measured on a scale of one to ten, Uncle Matthew would come in at a minus four, and her father and mother would each rack up a score of at least fifteen. Looking back, Nessa figured Uncle Matthew was proud of his only child, since he’d followed right in his footsteps, whereas her father probably had calluses on his knees from praying for his only child, who had rejected his faith and joined a more liberal church.
At that thought she glanced down at her knees. She’d spent plenty of hours herself kneeling beside her bed over not doing exactly what her parents thought she should. They’d tried to shove their religious views down her throat, and she’d rebelled by refusing to date any boy who went to their church. That meant sneaking around with bad boys—sometimes even meeting them at the church and going inside to make out in a Sunday-school room.
Nothing seemed to satisfy her. She couldn’t commit to a relationship—not in college or since she’d become a teacher. She had realized that something was missing in her life right after Nanny Lucy’s funeral, but nothing she tried seemed to satisfy the longing for change. When the court ruling finally came down and she and her two cousins owned their grandmother’s property, a peace had settled over her heart and soul. She was going back, at least for the summer, to the only place where she’d ever felt free and happy—to her perfect grandmother’s house.
“Y’all ready to order?” a waitress asked.
Her voice startled Nessa and jerked her right back from her woolgathering.
“I’d like the double meat cheeseburger, fries, a root beer, and a couple of those apricot fried pies,” Flynn said.
The waitress looked over at Nessa. “And for you?”
“Chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and white gravy, corn, and green beans, sweet tea, and a cherry pie, please,” Nessa said.
“I want the fish dinner and a slice of coconut pie,” April said before the waitress got finished writing. “And could we have an order of onion rings for an appetizer?”
“Next time, I won’t be so quick to offer to pay.” Flynn grinned.
“I haven’t eaten a real meal in two days,” April said. “I’ve been living on potted meat sandwiches and water, so thank you for the meal, Flynn, and thank you for calling me when you did to tell me about the will, Nessa. My phone service was cut off pretty much right after you made that call.”
“What happened to you?” Nessa asked.
“Bad choices, bad men, bad everything.” April shrugged. “I’m hoping that this move will give me a new start.”
“Me too,” Flynn said.
April cut her eyes across the table at Flynn. “You’ve had women falling all over themselves to get at you since you were a teenager. You’ve had a good job, and I figure one of those big dual-cab trucks out there belongs to you.” She pointed out the window. “So why do you need a new start?”
“That’s a conversation for another day, but yes, the black truck is mine,” Flynn answered. “I see the waitress coming this way with our onion rings.”
Like April, Nessa wondered what the mystery with her male cousin could be. Had he gotten hurt by some woman, or was he truly tired of being like his father?