Cord got to his feet. Laid a hand on Tina’s shoulder. “They were good people, my grandparents,” he said hoarsely. “I was lucky, too. The way your girls were. And still are.”

Tina smiled, rested her hand over his. “So were Mimi and Bill, Cord. And they knew it. It about broke them both when Toby was killed. They kept going because of you. You needed them, and they needed you. You were their second chance, their reason to go on.”

Cord felt his eyes burning, and his throat thickened.

Tina touched his cheek, still smiling.

Cord nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to say anything.

Tina laughed. “Just look at me,” she said, “standing here in my bathrobe, for heaven’s sake, and in curlers! Mimi would’ve delivered a lecture on ladylike behavior and personal dignity.” Her expression turned tender. “I’m out of here,” she told him. In the next moment, she headed for the door, car keys plucked from her pocket and jingling cheerily.

Reaching the threshold, she turned to face Cord. “Whoever she turns out to be,” she said quietly, “Carly is a good kid. In trouble, maybe, but good. Trust me on that.”

Cord nodded, hoping Tina’s instincts were right. “You don’t have to ask her about the money and the laptop,” he said. “Carly isn’t your responsibility.”

“I’ll play it by ear,” she replied, after a moment of thought and a brisk nod of her curler-covered head. “Like I did with my own kids.”

With that, she was out the door and gone.

CHAPTER SIX

CORD LOVED EARLY SUMMER. By now, at six thirty in the morning, the sun was already progressing to the middle of the sky. After yesterday’s rain, flowers in the ditches along the road were blooming with wanton delight. Every once in a while, he’d find himself grinning at cows and their calves, grazing diligently in their pastures.

He took the almost empty road with care, always concerned about an animal—a deer or coyote, perhaps a sheep or young horse—darting in front of his truck. Half an hour later, he turned into the dirt parking lot at Bailey’s, sprang out and entered the restaurant. He noticed that J.P.’s Jeep was parked in its usual location. He also noticed a sign announcing an event on Sunday evening—Classic Country Night.

Cord joined him, first greeting Trooper, who was lying half under the table. J.P. grunted, “Hello,” and Cord helped himself to coffee; he had to admit, once again, that Tina had a point. This was much better coffee than he often drank at home. His own fault because when he bought it himself, he always got the cheap brands—he never seemed to learn. Brynne appeared then, carrying a laden tray over to another customer in one of the booths.