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“You had better play this right,” Ms. Markie says quietly so that only I can hear her.

“I plan to.”

I just wish I had some sort of an idea what right means. This is Evie, after all.

12

Evie

Never having been to a turkey shoot, I’m not completely sure what to expect. But I don’t have to worry about that quite yet, since Grady has to stop by his house to get cleaned up—his words, not mine—so we drive the short distance to his house in his Jeep. He lives a few streets over from Grandma. He bought his own place about ten years ago and he has been there ever since.

His house is a small cottage on an acre of land in an old-style subdivision, meaning that everyone cuts their own grass and there’s no dreaded homeowners association. Grandma says those things are from the devil, and that if she wanted somebody to tell her the specific time of day when her dog can or cannot bark, she’d get herself a husband.

When we pull up, he backs down the long driveway and stops when his trailer is safely inside the garage. I stand next to him as he pulls the door shut. I turn when I hear the front door to his house open, and I see his mama bustling out.

“What’s she doing here?” he asks, more to himself than to me. He straightens up just as his mama tries to rush past him. She lifts her hand in a quick wave. She parked on the side of the street, so she rushes across the grass.

“Got places to be, Grady!” she calls out. “No time to talk.”

“Mama!” Grady yells. She walks faster. “Stop!”

She finally falters in her walk. “Grady,” she replies, and she hangs her head, like she’s fortifying herself for battle.

Grady stares at her back, because she hasn’t yet turned to face him. “What did you do?” he asks. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at her.

She finally spins to face him. “It’s just an armoire, Grady.” She holds her hand out at shoulder height. “About this big. It’s tiny, really.”

“Mama, I told you I don’t need any more furniture.” He looks over at me. “Every time she goes to a yard sale, Daddy fusses at her for buying more stuff, and she has to get rid of it so she brings it over here. My house is starting to look like a second-hand store. Nothing matches, and none of it has been anything I would pick.” He gives me googly eyes. “I don’t even know what an armoire is.”

“It’s like a cabinet,” I explain. “But fancy.”

He scowls and looks back toward his mother. “Why the hell do I need a fancy cabinet, Mama?”

She fidgets. “It goes perfectly in your bedroom.”

His eyebrows shoot up high. “You put it in my bedroom?”

“Well, yes. It was the best spot for it.” She plays with an imaginary bit of string on her sleeve. “Junior came and helped me unload it. I always did like that boy.”

“I’m going to kill Junior,” Grady whispers with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then he opens them again and he stares at her. “Mama, you have to stop.”

“Grady…” she whines.

“Mama,” he says firmly.

She bites her lips together. “I’ll try,” she finally says.

“Where are you going now?” he asks.

She fidgets with that imaginary string again. “Shopping. There’s a buy one, get one free sale at the drapery shop.” She looks past him at me. “Evie, do you need any drapes? They have some beautiful choices.”

I think about it a minute. “You know, I might,” I finally admit.

She looks excited. “I’ll see if I can find something you might like.” She looks me up and down. “You look beautiful, by the way. A little age has done you good.”

Grady smothers a laugh in the side of his fist, and then turns it into a cough when I punch his shoulder.

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