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“That’s why you don’t tell herorthat gang of groupies that follows her around like she’s a rock star. Sheesh. She had one meeting with the president and you’d think she actually hung the moon.”
Erin swallowed. She didn’t want to make an enemy in the neighborhood, but it sounded like she already had. “That doesn’t feel right.”
“Then talk to Darlene. I’m sure you can sway her to your way of thinking.”
“How? Especially when she already hates me, and the rest of the committee will back her up.”
Liza squeezed Erin’s arm. “You leave the committee to me. Email me your ideas and I’ll get them on our side.”
“They already heard my ideas and turned me down.”
“Sweetheart, trust me, I’m an actress.” She swooped imaginary locks behind her shoulder and painted on a saucy smile. “I was born to play this part.”
And Erin was born to be a fish out of water no matter where she landed. “I don’t know, Liza. I don’t want to start a war.”
“Don’t think of it as starting a war. Think of it as leading the troops away from the line of fire. I don’t know a single person who’s excited about the Christmas potluck.”
Mrs. Granger raised her hand. “I am. I was going to try a new chicken casserole recipe.”
“You can still bring your chicken casserole, Patty. We’re talking about the entertainment.”
“Does that mean Gerald can’t wear his reindeer sweater?”
Liza was losing her patience by the way she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He can wear the dang sweater.” She turned her back on Mrs. Granger and spoke to Erin. “So, what do you say? Let’s kick this party into gear.”
ChapterSix
Brock liftedthe dining room blinds and peered out at the street for the millionth time that day. Friday had finally arrived, and he was beyond ready for his pawpaw to see all the work he’d done on his new home. Pawpaw had seen the listing, of course, but Brock hadn’t told him anything about the renovations. He’d wanted to surprise his pawpaw and witness his reaction firsthand.
“Where are they?” He checked his watch, calculated the drive. Brock knew better than to ask his mother to transport Pawpaw from Nashville to Cherry Creek. But his mom was the only family member with a valid driver’s license and Lord knew she had nothing better to do than make the three-and-a-half-hour drive. Having her here would open him up to her ridicule and scorn—but what else was new?
“Wow, fancy digs,” he imagined her saying. “Must be nice to be Brock’s favorite, Paw.”
How many times had he suffered through her woe-is-me routine? As if her circumstances resulted from bad luck rather than the fulfillment of a lifetime of bad choices.
Brock had almost turned away when he spotted Erin in her blinding-white coat and cherry-red hat, walking along the sidewalk with a large pot in her mittened hands. He scowled at the little busy body on her way up the street. He’d seen her throughout the week walking a variety of dogs past his house, visiting neighbors, and making herself a nuisance. Did the woman have a job or was she—as he suspected—living off her poor grandmother, laid up at home in bed?
Brock tried but failed to shake his irritation at the neighborhood gasbag who kept creeping unbidden into his thoughts. She was just like his family—leeching off her vulnerable grandmother and ingratiating herself into the lives of others for the purpose of serving herself.
Just because she could use her pretty smile and big brown eyes to soften the older residents didn’t mean he couldn’t see right through her act. She was a user. Just like his mom. Just like every other cousin and aunt and uncle he was unfortunate enough to call family.
He'd never seen Erin wearing anything other than that puffy white coat. Wondering what she looked like underneath gnawed at him day and night. Was she flat-chested and skinny like a teenaged boy? Full-bodied and voluptuous like Elizabeth Taylor and the other movie stars Pawpaw admired growing up? He scolded himself for wasting a second of his time on useless thoughts about a useless person. Why did he care about the shape of her body? It wasn’t as if he was interested in her.
He dropped the blind and looked around the house, trying to see it through Pawpaw’s eyes. Other than the recliner Pawpaw had refused to leave behind, Brock had outfitted his new home in comfortable couches and quality furniture. No more hand-me-downs for the man who’d spent his whole life barely scraping by. From now until the end, Pawpaw would only have the best. Brock would make sure of it.
He walked to the door when he heard a car pull into the drive and spotted the rental he’d arranged for his mom. He could see the fumes from her cigarette in the enclosed cab and cursed under his breath. She knew Pawpaw was susceptible to RSV in the winter, and yet she’d smoked in the car with him anyway—even after she’d promised Brock she wouldn’t. He should have hired a car service like he’d wanted, no matter what Pawpaw had said.
“She wants to see where I’m living,” Pawpaw had argued for his daughter. “I don’t think it’s right to keep her from coming.”
Brock knew it was a horrible idea to let his mom get a look at Pawpaw’s new digs. If she liked what she saw—and how could she not—she’d eventually make up some sob story and be living here just like Erin. Before long, the two of them would be spending their time sharing cigarettes and swapping stories of how they’d mooched their way through life.
Brock opened the door and watched his mother toss the cigarette onto the drive. She knew Brock was watching. She knew he’d be upset. She definitely didn’t care. What better way to give her son the middle finger for having the audacity to better his life and Pawpaw’s without giving her another handout she’d inevitably squander.
He ignored his mother and focused on Pawpaw’s face, saw happiness light his tired eyes, watched him amble up the drive, a little stiff from the long drive but otherwise no worse for wear—thank heavens. “You made it,” Brock said.
“This weather sucks,” his mom said in greeting. “And that car you rented has no pickup and go.”
He’d deliberately rented her a no-frills four-wheel drive. “You got here safe. That’s all that counts. How was the drive?” he asked Pawpaw.
