The Liar (29 page)

“I’ll speak to him, and we’ll all abide by his decision. I’m sick at heart he was hurt this way, that someone in my family would have caused it. I wonder, Viola, if you know from Jackson how much damage there is to the boy’s truck.”

“What Jackson told me just a bit ago on the phone, it’s a loss.”

“Oh, Granny.”

“Well, most anything can be fixed, but Jack says it wouldn’t be fixed right enough, and expects the insurance company to agree and total it out.”

“I’ll make it right. You have my word on it.”

“I never had any doubt on that, Flo.”

“I know you’re both busy, and I thank you so much for taking this time, and for your understanding. For your kindness.”

“I’m going to walk you out,” Viola said, sliding an arm around Florence’s waist as they both rose. “And I’m going to give you a brochure so you can think about coming back for a nice hot stone massage or a Restore Youth Facial.”

Shelby heard Florence laugh as they walked out. “It’s a late hour for restoring youth, isn’t it, Viola?”

“It’s never too late an hour, Flo. Never too late an hour.”

•   •   •

I
T SEEMED TO
Shelby the best thing to do was keep her head down and take each day as it came. She’d been far too much front and center on the gossip stage since her return to the Ridge. Experience told her some other news or interest would come along soon enough.

She felt just fine being front and center Friday night, performing doo-wop and rock and fifties ballads. The crowd seemed to feel just fine about it, too, and nobody got shot.

And since Callie was having a sleepover at Granny’s, topping Friday night off in Griff’s bed felt even more than fine.

Before and after her Saturday job, she hit her spreadsheet hard, meticulously paying bills, doing careful math.

And shaking her clasped hands at the ceiling when she paid off another credit card.

Three down, nine to go.

Straight after Sunday breakfast, she stood at the stove frying up chicken and listening to Callie squeal with delight while she played with the much-loved bubble maker.

Ada Mae came in, hugged Shelby from behind. “That’s the best sound in the world.”

“I know it. She’s so happy, Mama, it turns my heart inside out.”

“And how about you?”

“I’m about as happy as a little girl with a bubble machine.”

“You were in fine voice Friday night, baby girl. And so pretty up there in that blue dress.”

“I’m going to have fun with the sixties. I’ve been playing around some for next week. Tansy told me they’re going ahead for sure with that expansion. That’ll be exciting.”

“Good thing Griff and Matt are all but done here. I love my new bathroom like Callie loves her bubble maker.”

To demonstrate, Ada Mae did a neat pirouette and had Shelby grinning.

“They’re handy men. A handy man’s worth his weight in gold. You must’ve had a nice time after.”

Heat rose up the back of Shelby’s neck. “I did. Mama, you didn’t wait up, did you?”

“It’s not a matter of waiting up. You have a child under your roof—whether she’s fourteen or forty—you hear that car pull up the drive. And don’t even think about saying you’re sorry. It put a smile on my face thinking about you being with a good man. He puts a smile on your face, too.”

She knew just where her mother was going. “He does. I can admit I didn’t see myself having a nice time with
any
man for a long time yet. As it is, it’s a pretty surprise. Still, I can’t think past next week, not yet.”

“That’s all right. You take your time, give him a good test-drive.”

“Mama!”

“You think your generation invented sex? And you’re doing the sixties next week? That generation likely figured the same. Speaking of test-driving, I heard Florence Piedmont bought Griff a new truck.”

“He said she wouldn’t take no, turned it around so it felt like he’d be insulting her if he refused. Grandpa’s going to strip the wrecked one for parts, and Griff’s having the new truck painted with the logo.”

She paused as she drained some of the chicken.

“Did we do the right thing, Mama? Letting Melody get off with going to that rehabilitation center, anger management therapy and the like?”

“Next thing to a country club, I expect, and that just chafes my thighs. But down under it, I think it was the right thing. I don’t know as she’ll be coming back here, at least not for some time. I do know Miz Florence isn’t holding her job.”

“Oh.”

“And I expect you could have that job, if you wanted it.”

“I . . . No. I think I like just how things are. I like working at Granny’s, I like the girls and the work and the customers. I like knowing if something came up, nobody’d be upset if I had to take off to deal with it. And I do know, for certain, I wouldn’t want Melody’s old office, her old job, her old anything. Just . . . bad juju. You know what I mean, Mama?”

“I do. You’ve got your granny’s hand with fried chicken, girl. If you don’t want to look past next week yet, you’d better be careful. Chicken like that could drive a man to propose marriage.”

“I think I’m safe there.”

And safe, Shelby thought, was where she needed to be.

At noon when Griff pulled up in his rental truck, she had the hamper loaded and ready, and Callie in her yellow dress with a ribbon in her hair. She’d opted for jeans and her old hiking boots.

Callie rushed out before Griff got to the door, and launched herself at him.

“You look like a picnic, Little Red.”

“I got a bow.” Callie reached back to where the yellow ribbon trailed.

“I see that. Pretty as they come, and so’s your mom. Here, let me take that.”

“You’ve already got her. We’ll take my van since I know where we’re going. I’ve got the blankets in there already.”

“I’ve just got to get a couple things out of the truck.”

He strapped Callie in her car seat—expertly, Shelby noted. You didn’t have to show the man something twice. He walked to his rental truck, came back with a tote bag. “Contributions,” he said, and put them in the van with the hamper.

“I’m hoping this spot is as pretty as I remember. It’s been a while.”

She drove toward town, then veered off on a back road, just skimming by the holler while Callie chattered like a magpie. As she took the rise, navigated the switchbacks, it all came back to her. The sights, the smells.

The color.

Winding through the greens, the browns, yellow trillium and crested iris splashed, while the delicate trumpets of columbine played in dappled sunlight. There, or there, mountain laurel brightened the shadows, and lady’s slippers danced.

“Pretty. It’s pretty country,” Griff said when Callie shifted to conversation with the ever-present Fifi.

“It won’t be long till the wild rhododendrons pop out. I just love the green of it. The endless, rising green of it, and how the color from wildflowers comes and goes.”

She passed a little farmhouse where a boy about Callie’s age rolled on the scrubby grass with a yellow dog.

“See the puppy! Mama, when can I have a puppy?”

“Her newest obsession,” Shelby said under her breath. “Once we get our own house, we’ll think about that. We’re almost to our picnic spot,” she added, hoping to block the litany of follow-up questions.

She turned onto a narrow dirt road, bumped carefully along it. “This belongs to that little farm we just passed. Daddy’s delivered three babies in that house—might be more now since I’ve been gone—and made house calls for the grandmother until she passed. The family lets us use this road, and have picnics or hike back here. They set great store by my daddy.”

“So do I, since he cleared me to work.”

“Your eye’s looking some better.”

“I kissed it better, Mama, when I had my pizza date with Griff. Are we there yet?”

“We’re as far as we can drive.” She angled into the pull-off. “It’s not very far to walk. About a quarter-mile. It’s a little steep, though, and likely a little rough.”

“We’re up for it.”

He settled the logistics by hauling Callie up on his shoulders, taking the hamper. “Bag and blankets for you,” he told Shelby. “It’s so quiet here.”

He spotted a bold red cardinal watching them from a perch on a hawthorn tree.

“That’s not even the best part.”

“Nobody’s going to come out with a shotgun?”

“I asked Daddy to check if it was okay, and the family’s fine about it. We leave the land as we found it, that’s all. Though they might have discouraged revenuers that way, back in the Prohibition days. Plenty ran whiskey out of the hills and the hollers. My people among them—both sides.”

“Bootleggers.” It made him grin.

“It’d be hard to find a handful of people with native roots who didn’t have bootleggers on the family tree.”

“It was a dumbass law.”

“Dumbass,” Callie repeated, predictably.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not the first time. That’s a grown-up word, Callie.”

“I like grown-up words.” When she screamed, Griff shoved the hamper at Shelby, started to whip Callie down.

“A bunny! I saw a bunny rabbit!”

“Jesus—jeez,” Griff corrected. “You scared the . . . heck out of me, Little Red.”

“Catch the bunny rabbit, Griff! Catch it.”

“I didn’t bring my bunny rabbit catching tools.” With his heart still hammering, he took the hamper back, continued the climb.

When he topped the rise, he saw every step of the climb had been worth it.

“Okay, wow.”

“It’s just like I remembered. The stream, the trees, especially that big old black walnut. And just enough opening up so you can see some of the hills and valleys.”

“You’re in charge of all the picnic spots, from this day forward.”

“Hard to top this one, unless it’s at your place.”

When he put Callie down, she bulleted straight for the stream.

“Callie, don’t go close to the edge,” Shelby began, but Griff grabbed her hand and pulled her to the stream.

“Cool.” He crouched down beside Callie. “Look at all the little waterfalls. The shiny rocks.”

“I wanna go swimming!”

“It’s not deep enough for swimming, baby, but you can take your shoes and socks off, put your feet in. You can go wading.”

“’Kay. I can go wading, Griff!”

Callie plopped down, attacked her shoes while Shelby spread blankets beside the stream with its tumbling water, mossy logs, thickening ferns.

“Not worried about her getting the dress wet?” Griff asked.

“I’ve got a change for her in the bag. I’d like to know a little girl who wouldn’t want to splash in this stream.”

“You’re a pretty cool mom.”

While Callie stepped in to splash and squeal, Griff pulled the bottle, wrapped in its frozen cozy, out of his bag.

“Champagne?” After a surprised laugh, Shelby shook her head. “That’s going to put my fried chicken to shame.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She drank champagne, had the satisfaction of seeing Griff devour her chicken. She let Callie run off some energy chasing butterflies or going back for another splash.

And relaxed, as she realized she hadn’t, not really, since the morning she’d faced Arlo Kattery with bars between them.

And he’d have that view, she thought, through bars, for a long, long time.

But she had this—the green and the blue, the chirp and twitter of birds, the sun streaming through the trees to play shadows on the ground as her little girl played in the stream.

“You’re definitely hired,” Griff told her when he went back for another piece of chicken, another scoop of potato salad.

“Sitting here, it seems like nothing’s wrong in the world.”

“That’s why we need places like this.”

She reached out, trailed her fingers over the healing cut on his forehead. “Forrest said they still haven’t caught that Harlow person, and it makes me think he did what he came to do, and he’s long gone from here.”

“Makes the most sense.”

“Then why’d you follow me home at two in the morning on Friday night?”

“Because that makes sense to me, too. When are you going to let me follow you home again?”

Oh, she’d just been hoping he’d ask. “I guess I could see if Mama’s okay watching Callie one night this week.”

“Why don’t we go to the movies, then back to my place for a while?”

She smiled, thinking she had this, too. A movie date with a man who made her belly flutter. “Why don’t we? Callie, if you don’t eat your picnic lunch, there won’t be a cupcake in your future.”

Shelby marked it as a perfect Sunday afternoon, and driving back with Callie fighting sleep in the back, wondered how she could prolong it.

Maybe she’d see if Griff wanted to sit out on the porch while Callie napped. Or she could see if Emma Kate and Matt wanted to come over, and they could do up some burgers on the grill for supper later.

“I guess you’ve got things to do at your house.”

“There’s never a lack of things to do at my place. Why? Do you have something else in mind?”

“I was thinking, if you wanted to stay awhile, I’d see if Emma Kate and Matt wanted to come by later on. Have some wine, and grill some burgers.”

“More food? How could I say no?”

“I’ll see if it’s all right with Mama and Daddy, then . . .”

She trailed off as she pulled up to the house, saw her mother already running out.

“Oh God, what could’ve happened now?” She shoved out of the van. “Mama.”

“I was just about to text you. Gilly went into labor.”

“Oh, just now?”

“It’s been a few hours, but they didn’t say until they were heading in to the hospital. Daddy—my daddy’s got Jackson already. Daddy—your daddy—and I are heading into Gatlinburg to the hospital right now, and Forrest is bringing your granny. Clay says she’s moving fast. Oh, I don’t know why babies always put me in a tailspin.”

“It’s exciting, and it’s happy.”

“You should go,” Griff said. “You should be there.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put two preschoolers on my grandfather on his own.”

“I’ll take her. I’ve got Callie.”

“Oh, well, I—”

“I wanna go with Griff! Please, Mama, please. Griff, I wanna go to your house. Can I go to your house and play?”