Lila grinned and accepted the coffee. “She’s got a soft heart. Nothing wrong with that.”
“No, but soft hearts bruise easy,” Clancy said, folding his magazine and setting it aside. “Especially when they start thinking every stray was sent just for them.”
The comment hung gently in the air, not heavy, just real—and true enough to tug at Charlie Grace’s chest. She handed Lila a mug and took a seat beside her dad.
“She’s resilient,” Charlie Grace said, quieter now. “But I’ll keep an eye.”
Clancy gave a slight nod, then adjusted his chair with a small humph. “That’s all I can hope for, you know. Someone looking out.”
He picked up the magazine again but didn’t open it, letting the words settle like dust in a sunbeam.
Lila glanced around the kitchen as she took a sip of coffee, her eyes catching the subtle but tasteful changes since her last visit.
“So, what do you think?” Charlie Grace asked, attempting to pry a compliment from her friend.
The old linoleum had been replaced with wide-plank hickory floors, and the cabinets—once a tired, honey oak—were now a creamy white with iron pulls. A new farmhouse sink sat beneath the window, flanked by fresh herbs in terra-cotta pots. Over the table, a handblown glass light fixture cast soft golden tones across the space. It resembled one she’d seen in a magazine over at Reva’s.
“I like what you’ve done in here,” Lila said, turning in place to take it all in. “It still feels like your mama’s kitchen, but...lighter somehow.”
Clancy snorted from his chair. “Charlie Grace has got a pile of money now and still spends it like it’s coming outta my feed budget.”
Charlie Grace’s lips twitched, but she didn’t look at him right away. She kept her gaze on the sink for a moment longer, then offered a careful smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m just trying to be thoughtful about expenditures,” she said quietly, the rim of her coffee mug pressed to her lips. “Money doesn’t change everything.”
Clancy let out a soft grunt, more sentiment than sass, and looked away.
Lila glanced between them but said nothing. She set her mug down, fingers tracing the rim absently. “Reva left town early this morning.”
Charlie Grace scowled. “Left? What do you mean?”
“Her Grand Memaw’s not doing well,” Lila said gently. “She got the call yesterday afternoon. Packed a bag and caught the first flight to Atlanta.”
Clancy looked up from his magazine. “That old woman still hanging on? Lord, I remember Reva talking about her back when you girls were in pigtails.”
“She’s been the backbone of that family,” Lila said. “And from what Reva told me, she’s slipping fast. Her mama said it’s a matter of days, maybe less.”
Charlie Grace’s eyes softened. “Poor Reva. She’s always been so close to her Grand Memaw. Remember how she used to send those care packages to her every holiday, and sometimes for no reason at all? Pecan pralines and cans of boiled peanuts?”
Lila smiled faintly. “And handwritten notes with Bible verses underlined in red ink. Reva used to roll her eyes, but you could tell she kept every single one.”
Clancy shifted in his chair. “That woman raised Reva right. Gave her a strong spine and a good heart. You don’t see that much anymore.”
“She’s got all of that and more,” Charlie Grace said. “But still—this will be hard. I know how much she hates leaving Thunder Mountain. Even just for a few days.”
Lila leaned back, folding her arms. “Not to mention Kellen and Lucan. Even so, this is not just a visit. Her mom hinted that there may be decisions ahead—big ones. The family’s pecan farm is a lot to manage. Her daddy’s not getting any younger. The boys can’t seem to manage things on their own anymore. Reva’s going to feel that pull.”
A long silence fell over the kitchen. The ticking of the wall clock and the muffled hum of construction outside filled the space between them.
Charlie Grace finally spoke, her voice tight. “What are you saying?”
Lila didn’t answer right away. “Nothing particular. But Reva’s never been the type to walk away from responsibility. If her family needs her…I don’t know. She might try to find a way to do both, but something’s gotta give.”
Clancy tapped a finger on the armrest of his wheelchair. “That girl’s got a sense of duty a mile wide. Always did. Even as a teenager, she was looking after everyone else.”
“Still is,” Charlie Grace murmured. Her mind was already tumbling through what Reva’s absence would mean—even if part-time—for the town, for their group, for the quiet rhythm they’d all come to rely on. “Well, we all know she’ll die trying to do it all.”
Lila nodded. “And without letting anyone know she’s breaking a sweat.”
