“In the kitchen,” Hunt said.
She was hesitant to face the angry stranger he’d been at the hospital. She was barely ten years old when he left, so her memories of him were vague. She paused in the doorway, uncertain of what he’d say.
Hunt wouldn’t have recognized this Birdie as his little sister. She’d grown up to be a pretty young woman, but she was still one of them, and he didn’t know where he stood with any of them anymore.
“What’s going on?” Birdie said.
“Getting ready to fix the place up to sell,” Hunt said.
“Changing out the locks, too?” she asked.
“On advice of Mom’s lawyer,” Hunt said.
She blinked.
“Why?”
“I guess so people can’t come and go and carry stuff off that doesn’t belong to them.”
“Are you talking about us?”
He shrugged.
“But it was Mama’s stuff. Who else would it belong to but us?” Birdie asked.
“And now it belongs to five people. Not just one. And while we’re asking questions, didn’t anyone ever come in here and clean for her after she got sick? And what happened to the middle of the kitchen floor? It sags. A lot.”
Birdie’s cheeks reddened with anger. “We checked on her. And why do you think you have the right to criticize? You went off and left everyone fifteen years ago and never came back. What’s that all about?”
Hunt’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember? Any of it?”
“Remember what? You were here when Mama left to take me to school, and when I came home that evening you were gone and everyone was acting like something bad had happened.”
“Oh, something bad happened all right. Someone in this house stole my college money. Eight thousand dollars I’d worked and saved for four years, and the morning I’m leaving for college, it was gone. Someone in this house took it. They all knew who did it, but they covered up for the guilty one, and Dad told me what was done was done…to get over it and figure something else out, so I did. Mom didn’t know what happened, either, but she knew where I went. She always knew. The fact that she never shared that with any of you is telling.”
Birdie was stunned.
“Oh, Hunt. Oh my God. I didn’t know. Where did you go?”
“To war. Now, I’ve got a lot to do to keep the promise I made. I’ll be staying here until I’ve finished, and then the house will go up for sale, as stated in Mom’s will.”
“You’ve seen the will?”
“She sent me a copy, along with a key to the house and a request to get it fixed up to sell.”
Birdie’s eyes welled. “I’m so sorry.”
Hunt shrugged. “You didn’t take it. One of them did. So you don’t have anything to apologize for. And just for the record, I didn’t come here expecting a warm welcome. I am a bad reminder of someone else’s sin.”
Then he turned his back on her and went back to work measuring the kitchen floor.
Birdie’s heart ached for him in a way she couldn’t put into words. But she offered what she knew.
“About the floor. Blessings flooded a while back during a hurricane. Water never came into the house, but it was beneath it. That might be why it’s sagging. I guess I never noticed.”
Hunt sighed. Her voice was trembling. Dammit.
“It’s okay, kid. I’ll fix it,” he said.
Birdie turned on her heel and left.
Hunt closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself and his emotions, and then went back to work. At least now they’d all know he was in the house, and why.
He got a text from his boss, expressing his sympathies, and after he answered it, noticed he also had one from Butterman, the lawyer. So the reading of the will was at nine tomorrow morning. That should be interesting.
* * *
Birdie cried all the way to her apartment, then went in to gather up the things they needed to take to the funeral home. She was still in tears when Emma knocked on the door and let herself in.
“It’s me!” she said, and tossed her purse on the sofa.
Birdie came out of her bedroom, red-eyed and glaring.
“Oh my God, honey! What’s wrong?”
“Hunt was at Mama’s house, and so was Cecil Mills. He’s changing the locks on the house. Hunt’s going to stay there to fix up the house before it’s put up for sale.”
Emma frowned. “Why does he think he has the right to change out locks and keep us out of our own mama’s house?”
Birdie turned on her with a vengeance. “Maybe because Mama sent for him? Maybe because Mama sent him a copy of her will and asked him to do it? Maybe because he doesn’t trust anyone not to steal things that don’t belong to them? Maybe because someone in our family already stole his college money from him, and he has no reason to believe we have morals or a conscience?”
Emma froze. “He told you that?”
“Not intentionally…I challenged him about it, and he just reminded me of what had already come to pass, thinking I already knew.”
“Jesus,” Emma muttered.
Birdie swiped at the tears on her face. “Who did it? And why, for the love of all that’s holy, would the rest of you protect a thief? I am so shocked and so hurt for him right now that I don’t really even want to look at you. Mama’s clothes are in a bag on the sofa. Take them and go.”
Emma picked up the sack. “Just so you know, there’s a reading of the will at Peanut Butterman’s office tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. We’re all supposed to be there,” she mumbled, and started out the door.
Birdie followed her, then slammed it shut behind her.
Emma flinched, and when she heard Birdie turn the lock, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. This wasn’t going to get better. Mama wasn’t here anymore to be the wall between them and Hunt. He didn’t have to play nice anymore.
She got back in her car and headed to the funeral home to give them the clothes. They still had to get through a funeral in some semblance of family unity—or not.
* * *
Ava woke up just after 3:00 p.m., trying to remember why today felt different, and then she remembered.
Hunt Knox came home, and Marjorie died.
She rolled over onto her back, snug beneath her covers, thinking about the next two days. She didn’t often have two days off in a row, and she was looking forward to a little time to herself. She wondered if Hunt was staying at his old home, and then decided if he was, she was going to bake him a pecan pie. It would be a simple gesture of kindness to the family during this time, and she remembered it used to be his favorite.