Page 111 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Of your grandmother? Absolutely.”

“Smart.”

Meme settled back down, looking pleased with herself. “You were a good worker.”

That surprised me. “You remember?”

“James talked about you.”

“He did?” I glanced toward Carson. She was listening now.

“Mm-hmm. Said Walter’s younger boy didn’t know when to quit.”

“That could be good or bad.”

“With James, both.” Meme’s attention moved toward the windows. “He liked having boys around. Always thought Carson should’ve had brothers.”

Carson’s fork slowed. “He had me.”

“I know, sweetie.” Meme touched her hand. “He would’ve had twelve of you if the Lord had given him the choice.”

Something about the exchange drew my attention toward the photographs again. Three people. Always three.

Carson noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring at my walls.”

“There are a lot of pictures.”

“Meme doesn’t believe in empty wall space.”

“Empty walls are depressing,” Meme said.

I looked toward one of Carson standing beside Blueberry. “How old were you there?”

Carson followed my gaze. “Fourteen.”

“You won?”

“State youth championship.” She said it casually.

I shook my head.

“What?”

“You make everything sound like it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was youth.”

“You were fourteen.”

“And?”

“And most fourteen-year-olds are accomplishing things like surviving algebra.”

Jax nodded. “I barely did that.”