“Yes, where Marjorie Knox lived. I’m her oldest son, Hunt. I’m going to fix it up some before it’s put up for sale.”

“Lived?”

Hunt nodded. “She passed away early this morning.”

Cecil frowned. “I hadn’t heard. I’m real sorry about that. I’m waiting on a customer who’s on the way in from his farm, but I can get away around noon, if you don’t mind me coming at your lunch hour.”

“I’m not on any schedule. You sure you’re okay working on New Year’s Day? It could wait until tomorrow,” Hunt said.

Cecil shrugged. “I’ve already been called out twice today for emergencies, and my wife is home and sick with the flu. I’d just as soon be here.”

“Then noon is fine. Do you know the address?” Hunt asked.

“It’s the last house on the right at the end of Peach Street, right?”

Hunt nodded. “Yeah. My Harley and her black pickup will be under the carport.”

“Then I’ll see you at noon.”

“Right,” Hunt said, and left the shop, then stopped by the grocery store. He was surprised to see that it was no longer a Piggly Wiggly, and had a new facade and a new name to go with it. The Crown.

Nobody recognized him, which made shopping easy, until he got up front to pay. The cashier who was checking him out kept looking at him, and when he put his credit card in the reader, she finally spoke.

“You sure do look familiar. Are you from around here?” she asked.

Hunt nodded as he put his card back in his wallet. “I’m Hunt Knox. I used to sack groceries here back when it was still the Piggly Wiggly. You’re Millie, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I’m Millie Garner! I knew you looked familiar. I just heard about your mother’s passing. My sympathies to the family,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said, and began putting his bags back in the shopping cart.

“Do you plan on staying here?” she asked.

“Only long enough to fix up the family house so it can be sold at auction. I promised her I’d do that,” Hunt said, then walked out pushing the shopping cart.

By the time he got back to the house and unloaded the groceries, it was getting close to noon. He took off his jacket, then began emptying the sacks and putting up the things he’d just bought.

By the time he was through, Cecil Mills was knocking on his door. He let Cecil in, and then pointed out the locations where new locks were needed.

“There’s just the front door, and then a back door in the kitchen.”