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“I see. And um, why would you want a pygmy goat?”
He scoffed. “Oh, it wasn’t me who wanted the old girl. It was your momma.”
“Momma? Why would Momma want one?”
“She saw about six dozen videos of them jumping here, there, and everywhere on that Tic Tac thingy, and I figured it’d be a good surprise to make up for what I did.”
Ice skittered through my veins as I wondered what he’d done, but I pushed it down to correct him first. “I think you mean TikTok.”
“Oh. Yeah, that.”
“What did you do?” I asked, stepping closer and looking around the upstairs hallway. Gertie leaned in to sniff me and I jerked back. She was cute, but we weren’t that close yet. “Daddy, why did you call her Gertrude the Guilt Goat?”
His face pinched. “You didn’t hear?”
“No.”
“You remember that old dish her momma gave us for our wedding that she used to bring casseroles around town for everything from a broken arm to a death to a potluck wine club?”
“Book club, but yes.”
“The one with the artichokes and onions and tomatoes with the little green leaves and French words?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I hissed, waving my arms impatiently. “The Corning Ware. Spice of Life Collection. I remember. What about it?”
He took a break from petting Gertie to scratch his own head. “Well, the thing is, there might have been an unfortunate mishap involvin’ the wrong way to pick up a hot dish of cheesy bacon grits.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. And I’m shocked to high heaven this is the first you’re hearin’ about it.”
Gathering the nerve to pet Gertie since she was now looking at me with the cutest expectant gaze with her baguette-shaped pupils, I shook my head at him. “Daddy, she loved that dish.”
“Thankfully, she loves our Gertie even more. Though Gertie won’t fetch us ten grand on eBay like that ugly dish woulda.”
I balked, scanning the hallway again. “Unless you wanna buy another guilt goat, don’t let her hear you call that dish ugly.”
“Smart girl. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take Miss Gertie for her exercise, and you need to head downstairs and visit with your sisters before they come lookin’ for you.”
I lifted up on my toes and pressed an affectionate kiss to his chubby, whiskered cheek. “Love you, Daddy. It’s good to be home.”
“It’s good to have you here, punkin’. And if you ever get tired of that big ol’ house in Nashville, you know we’ll always have a place for you at home.”
I gave him a small smile and turned away, but dang it if his words hadn’t caused a casserole-dish-sized hole in my heart.
9
LANEY
“Morning, superstar!” Aubree said as I came down the stairs, meeting me halfway up and throwing her arms around my neck.
I breathed in my sister’s familiar scent of lavender and cream in her long blonde hair. It was so much like mine, other than the slightly darker color, and her silky strands enveloped me in yet another reminder of home. Our younger sister’s hair was the darkest of the three of us, a true brunette. But like the perfect visible evidence that Aubree was the middle sister, her hair color fell there too.
“Hey, Aubs. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too!” she squealed, turning but keeping an arm around my waist as we walked down the rest of the stairs together.
“How’ve you been?” I asked.
