Liz pointed toward the end of the living room. “His mama lives one mile that way and she is an amazing cook. I’m bettin’ I can wrangle a meal or two a week over there. And don’t forget I’m a waitress at a café. Jasmine is an artist in the kitchen, and her prices are reasonable. I can take him up to the Chicken Fried when Maddie or Grandma aren’t cookin’. And on the nights we want to stay in I betcha he doesn’t mind canned soup and microwave pizza at all.”

Tressa threw back her head and roared. “We have raised a genius, Marva Jo.” Then the laughter stopped abruptly, and she grew serious. “Too bad she’s going to make this one bad decision, though.”

“And that is?” Liz wished she hadn’t even asked when the words were out there.

“I’m living proof that sometimes you just got to let a kid fall on her face, but when she comes to her senses and returns to the fold, we will take her back without saying ‘I told you so’,” Marva Jo said.

“Who’s going to say I told you so?” Blaze asked as he opened the back door.

“I am,” Tressa declared. “When Liz comes back where she belongs in a few months, I’m going to say it even if Marva Jo doesn’t.”

“I am, too,” Blaze said, “but this is a really sweet little place here.”

“Wait until you see the O’Donnell ranch. It’s downright huge, and if I come crawling back to the carnival, you can all gather round me and chant ‘I told you so’ for as long as you like,” Liz said. “But don’t hold your breath until it happens. None of you look good in that shade of blue.”

Blaze stopped just inside the door and took stock of the kitchen. “This is even bigger than Poppa’s kitchen out in the winter place.”

“Yes, it is,” Liz said. “Are you ready to get those tables?”

“Yes, I am, and the folks all love the idea of getting a little rest before we all split seven ways to Sunday. They said if we’ll bring in the tables, they will set them up for their supper tonight. Frankie is making soup for all of them, and they’ll be glad to have a place to sit around and enjoy the decorations out there,” Blaze answered. “Let’s get this show on the road. I can’t wait to mess up this big old kitchen.”

“What you can’t wait for is a glimpse of Colleen, and remember, the rule applies in a big kitchen the same as a little one: what you mess up you clean up. Only thing I like less than cooking is washing dishes,” Liz teased on the way out the back door.

Chapter 23

Raylen was freshly shaven, and handed Liz a bottle of his sister-in-law Austin’s watermelon wine when she opened the door.

“You didn’t have to knock,” she whispered.

“Yes, I did,” he said. “I want to make a good impression.”