Lamarr limped around the corner and pointed in outrage at the lock and hasp that now lay on the ground. A few feet away was a claw hammer the guy had dropped in his flight. The open door was swinging on its hinges.

Lamarr quit cussing and beamed at Stevie like an innocent black angel. “We didn’t do the breaking. All we’re going to do is the entering.”

CHAPTER 10

DEBORAH KNOTT
SUNDAY MORNING

Even though we were almost into October, Sunday lived up to its name—a day of hot sunshine that kept the pond water warm.

I knew that both Stevie and Eric would be going to church this lovely morning, then big dinners with their respective families would occupy them till long past one, so I didn’t expect to see them much before three o’clock.

I probably could have used a session in church myself. Instead, I spent the first part of the morning packing away most of my summer clothes and air fluffing some of my lighter fall clothes in the dryer.

At ten o’clock, I figured Tally would probably be awake so I called to let her know Braz could be buried at the farm.

“I know. I talked to that Mr. Aldcroft last evening. He says your dad’s taken care of all the expenses and he won’t accept our money. That wasn’t necessary. We can take care of our own, okay?”

“Believe me, Tally, it’s necessary for him. Let him do this. Please? And he wants you to know that anyone you want to be there, any of your friends from the carnival, will be welcome.”

“That’s good,” she said stiffly.

The silence grew awkward.

“I guess you haven’t heard from Chapel Hill yet?” I asked.

“No, but Mr. Aldcroft called them and they said either today or tomorrow, so we’re thinking, say ten o’clock Tuesday morning, okay?”

“Tally, you do understand that the rest of the family’s going to have to be told? They’d never forgive us if we don’t. We’ll try to keep them from stampeding you, but—”

“What about Andrew? What’d he say when you told him?”

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words.

“Bad as that, huh?” Cynicism tinged her voice.

“I’m sorry, Tally. But he’ll come around. I know he will.”

“For what? I’m a little old to be looking a daddy, Deborah. But thanks for calling. I guess I’ll see you Tuesday, okay?” she said and hung up.

I gave Andrew a mental smacking and went back to cleaning out my closet and dresser drawers.

At midday I diced green peppers, onions, and mushrooms and made a western omelet with fresh tomatoes on the side. Not much of a Southern Sunday dinner, but probably healthier than some that would be eaten on the farm today.

While sorting clothes, I chatted on the phone with Portland, who told me that our mutual uncle (hers by blood, mine by marriage) had finally decided to retire and why didn’t we throw him a party? I called Aunt Zell to see if she thought Uncle Ash would want one, but only got their answering machine.