“You were always good at talking your way out of things.” Her mother wasn’t necessarily praising her.
“You’ll have to teach me.” Diana was all smiles.
Honor lingered by the back door, drying the same bowl she’d been drying for a good five minutes, watching her mother and grandfather.
“Honor?” She took the bowl and stored it in one of the upper cabinets. Another story—this time about her train breaking down on the tracks and the impromptu concert that sprang up among the passengers. Sitting there, surrounded by instruments and people from all over the world, all connected through music, had been a magical thing.
Diana was all ears. Honor tried. But the tension was still there, tainting the air. Her mother was agitated, glancing back and forth between Filly and her dad on the back porch and tidying up the kitchen with a vengeance.
“You can go out, too, Mom,” Charity volunteered. The less time they spent together, the better. The woman had an uncanny sixth-sense when it came to her youngest daughter. If she found out about the baby in her belly… Yeah, her mother would have a cow. No one needed more dr
ama right now. “Dad could probably use more coffee.” Her mother was all about taking care of Dad.
“No, no. I can’t sit still right now.” Her mother put on one of Felicity’s aprons, tying the ribbons behind her. “Want one?” she asked, then frowned when she did a head-to-toe once-over of Charity’s ensemble. “Charity Ann, what are you wearing?” Her disapproving headshake, tongue click followed. “Even if you’d gone to the gym this morning, you still should have showered and dressed for breakfast. After all the effort your sister put into breakfast and all.”
Charity smiled and nodded. “You’re right.” Easier to agree with her than point out that 80 percent of the population didn’t wear makeup for a family brunch. At least she was wearing a bra. That was something.
“I know I’m right.” Her mother turned on the faucet and squeezed a stream of blue-green soap into the farm-style sink.
“Mimi, we can load the dishwasher,” Honor offered.
Her mother waved the suggestion aside. “They never get things as clean as a good hand-scrubbing.”
The look of horror on Diana’s young face almost made her laugh—almost. Instead, she rolled her eyes and continued scraping plates into the trash.
“Maudie said you stopped by?” Her mother scrubbed the sticky-roll pan with surprising vigor. “Finally.”
Not responding to her dig. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her mother shot her a narrow-eyed look full of reproof. “You don’t sound grateful, Charity Ann. That woman’s giving you one of the most successful businesses in Pecan Valley. I’d think you’d be grateful.” She went back to scrubbing, with extra oomph.
“I am,” she argued. And she was. “I’m still in shock.” Her delivery needed work—big time. No one in the kitchen believed her. She didn’t believe herself.
“I thought you lived in Europe,” Diana said, continuing to stack plates.
“I did.” A sudden craving for gelato hit her.
“What happened with your job, Charity Ann? You seemed so happy. And so determined to stay away from Pecan Valley.” Her mother stopped scrubbing the pan long enough to look at her.
There it was—the look. The one she’d been trying to avoid. “Downsizing.” Charity shrugged, acting as if the storage of the leftovers was a top priority.
But her mother stared at her for a second longer than was necessary; Charity could feel it. Her mother was deliberating whether or not to believe her.
“That bites,” Diana said. “To live there and have to come back here.”
Charity did laugh that time. Pecan Valley wasn’t her favorite place, but there were many, many things about this quiet, sleepy town that she was fond of. Which was a surprise, really. But she was pregnant and that, she was learning, wreaked havoc on one’s emotional state.
“Do you want to go to Europe, Diana?” Honor asked. “I do. I’m going to take a semester abroad. Italy or Greece or France. Maybe Germany. Somewhere.”
“You should,” Charity agreed. “Travel is never a waste of time or money.”
“If you have both to spare,” her mother interrupted. “But I suppose it is best to get that all out of your system while you’re young.”
“Aunt Charity is still young, Mimi.” Honor laughed.
“And gorgeous,” Diana added, smiling. “You could be a movie star. Seriously.”
Except she was a terrible actress. Standing here, lying to her mother, was horrible. She was close to cracking just so her mother would stop giving her the look.