Nora frowned. “Mama, if you had just greeted him with a hug and a smile tonight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
Emily glanced down at her watch. “Mom, shouldn’t we be getting back to Jack’s?” she asked.
“You aren’t really planning on staying over there, are you, Nora Jean?” Granny scoffed.
Nora nodded. “Yes, Jack and I talked about it, and we decided it would be the best solution; I mean you don’t really have enough room here for all three of us.”
“Nora Jean, you’ll be the talk of this town if you move in with Jack,” Granny said, her tone fraught with disapproval. “What will all my friends think; what will the preacher say? You are still a married woman for Heaven’s sake! I raised you right, and you won’t be living with one man while you’re married to another.”
“Mama, I’m a grown woman,” Nora sighed. “I have made my decision. Besides, I’m just staying with an old friend for awhile; there is nothing more to it than that, no matter what tongues get to waggin’.”
“I could have told you this would happen, Nora Jean,” Granny said, mustering up tears for dramatic emphasis. “I had a feeling in my gut the day you ran off after Randy Cohen.”
“Kids, go get in the car,” Nora grumbled.
“What kind of an example are you setting for those kids by moving in with Jack?” Granny argued as Grant and Emily closed the door behind them. “It’s not right, Nora. It’s just not right. I taught you the difference between right and wrong; don’t act like I didn’t.”
“I don’t really have another option,” Nora shook her head. “I mean, you and Grant mix about as well as oil and water.”
“He has quite a mouth on him,” Granny sighed. “I have never been spoken to that way in my life.”
Nora pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Give him a chance, Mama, that’s all I’m asking,” Nora begged.
Granny took a cookie from the plate and savored a bite. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing not trying one of Granny’s famous chocolate chip cookies. I sell these to Maude by the dozen, you know.”
“I know,” Nora smiled.
“They’re made from scratch, not from some package,” Granny added pointedly.
“No one is doubting your skills in the kitchen,” Nora laughed. “Your homemade cookies and your homemade pies have always been my favorite.”
“Which pie would you say is your favorite?” Granny asked. “I’ll make you one and bring it over to Jack’s.”
“I love them all,” Nora smiled. “Blueberry, Apple, Pumpkin, Pecan, Lemon Meringue, Cherry, Strawberry. They are each unique and special in their own way, and you fill them each with so much love. Some must be harder to make than others, more complicated, more time consuming, but you’re committed.”
Granny wrinkled her nose. “None of them talk back.”
Nora gently pulled her mother into a hug. “I love you, Mama,” she nodded.
Granny pulled away and reached for a paper towel. She wrapped a stack of cookies inside and handed it to Nora. “In case Grant changes his mind later,” she acquiesced.
“Am I being totally selfish, Jack?” Nora asked, sitting at the kitchen table long after the kids had called it a night. “Would any respectable mother rip her kids away from their family and move them here of all places? To me this feels like home, but Grant and Emily must feel like fish out of water here.”
“They’re kids; they’ll adapt,” Jack smiled.
Nora shook her head, unconvinced. “Grant nor Hailey said a single word over dinner tonight, and I don’t want to do anything to upset your kids. If we need to go and stay over at my mama’s house…”
Jack put his arm around Nora. “I wouldn’t worry about Grant and Hailey if I was you. Why don’t we give this a couple days and see how things go? I have a feeling…well, I have a feeling that things are going to be just fine.”
CHAPTER THREE
Early on Monday morning, Grant shot out of bed awoken by a ferocious cock-a-doodle-doo that, on Sunday morning, had nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. “I foresee that rooster having a very unfortunate accident in the not so distant future,” he grumbled to himself as he reached for his shoes.
The house was old and the wooden floors creaked. The door knobs were a little squeaky, and the windows rattled when the wind blew. The walls were in need of a fresh coat of paint and the floors were scratched badly and in need of refinishing. The furniture was aged, if not antique. The only bathroom was small, and the mirror above the sink was slightly cracked. There were repairs that could stand to be made throughout the house, but it was homey and comfortable all the same.
Evidence that the room where Grant was sleeping had been Hailey’s room as recently as the day before he arrived still remained on the walls and on the shelves. In case he had failed to notice those clues, the Tennessee Volunteers poster on the back of the door or the signed picture of Pat Summitt on a top shelf, Hailey had repeatedly reminded him of her sacrifice on the two previous nights when she was forced to bunk with Jessica and Emily. Wearing high-top tennis shoes and the red, Adidas, basketball shorts he had slept in, Grant made a stop by the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. Without turning any lights on, he took the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured himself the last glass.
Hailey strolled into the kitchen wearing short black shorts and a black Nike sports bra; she flipped the light switch on as she hummed a cheery tune. “What are you doing up?” she sighed when she saw Grant standing at the counter.
Grant curled his lip. “As though anyone could possibly sleep through your feathered friend’s wake up call. Have you ever considered an inanimate alarm clock?”
“So sorry that Herbert disturbed your beauty sleep,” Hailey smiled sarcastically.
“Herbert?” Grant wrinkled his nose.
“That’s his name! Do you have a problem with that?” Hailey shrugged.
“Not particularly,” Grant shook his head. “It’s just that you say Herbert, and I automatically think Hoover, who, oddly enough, ran on the campaign slogan: ‘A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage.’ If you pluck the feathers, I’ll put some water on to boil. Breakfast! Bam!”
Hailey stared at Grant as though he was speaking Gibberish.
“You know, ‘Blessed are the young, for they shall inherit the national debt,’” Grant quoted. “That guy.”
