Because it was New Year’s Day, the feed store was closed, but tomorrow was payday, and since she’d taken the last two days off to be with her mother, she was behind in her work. With only four hours of sleep, she’d gotten up to a cold, quiet apartment, eaten toast and jelly, then taken her coffee with her as she headed to the store.

The building was dark, except for the night-lights, and she left it that way as she went down the hall to her office. Once inside, she turned on the overhead lights, turned up the thermostat, and got to work.

At first it was difficult to focus, because she kept thinking of her mother. There was no longer anyone to call for advice—no shoulder to cry on.

Her mother had been failing and they’d all been so wrapped up in their own lives that they hadn’t noticed something was wrong until she began to lose weight, and the bottles of pills on the kitchen counter grew from two to seven, and then more. And then she’d told them she was dying, and to let her be. She’d wanted to stay in her home until she dropped.

They were all in denial and let her call the shots when there were days she was too weak even to feed herself. The house was let go. The laundry piled up. And they’d ignored the dust and pretended the situation would resolve itself.

They were stupid…and selfish, and Birdie felt horrible.

They’d taken their mother’s presence for granted. They’d taken her for granted. And so her mama had sent for Hunt. It made Birdie feel sad that they’d failed their mother and their brother, and she still didn’t fully understand why it had happened.

Then she glanced at the clock and got down to business. Emma would call when she was ready to go to the funeral home, but until then, Birdie had work to do.

* * *

Junior Knox was still asleep when his phone rang. He woke abruptly, thinking it was the hospital calling about their mom, and then remembered she was already gone. He rolled over and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

“Junior, it’s me. Did I wake you?”

“Hi, Emma. Yeah, but that’s okay. So what’s up? Did you go by Mom’s last night? Was Hunt there?”

“I went by but he wasn’t there. His motorcycle was at the bed-and-breakfast,” Emma said.

“Oh, well then,” Junior said. “So, what do we need to do?”

“I’m not sure. But I just got a text about the reading of Mama’s will. Mr. Butterman is holding it at his office tomorrow morning at nine. We’re all supposed to be there.”

“Yeah, okay. I guess that means Hunt, too.”

“I guess.”

“Are we supposed to tell him?” Junior asked.