“Happy birthday, sugar. This morning you are an adult, and I want you to know that if you ever want to be out on your own, I do not expect you to stay here with me. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, and I want you to spread your wings and fly. This home is not your forever nest. It’s mine. You do what pleases you now. Find a man who will love you forever, but don’t ever let him control you.”

Birdie sighed. She could almost hear what Mama would be saying to her now.

It’s okay to grieve, but do not bury yourself in my grave. That belongs to me.

Birdie wiped away tears. God, but she was going to miss her. Then she turned off her computer, grabbed her coat and her purse, and left, turning off the lights in her office as she went. She was just getting into her car when her cell phone rang. It was Emma.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Sis, where are you?”

“Just leaving the office. I had to do payroll,” Birdie said.

“I think it’s time we head to the funeral home. I’ll meet you at your apartment to get Mama’s clothes. We can go together from there.”

“Okay, I’ll be on the way there now. See you soon,” Birdie said.

Chapter 3

It was habit that made Birdie turn down the block that would take her past their old house. But when she saw Hunt’s motorcycle there, and the van from Mills Locks, she slowed down, then on impulse braked and pulled up in the drive behind the old pickup to see what was going on.

Cecil Mills was on his knees at the front door, replacing the doorknob, when she walked up the steps.

“Hi, Cecil,” she said.

“Oh, hi, Birdie. Hunt’s inside.”

“Thanks,” she said, and slipped by him as she went inside, then paused in the living room and called out. “Hello?”

“In the kitchen,” Hunt said.

She was hesitant to face the angry stranger he’d been at the hospital. She was barely ten years old when he left, so her memories of him were vague. She paused in the doorway, uncertain of what he’d say.

Hunt wouldn’t have recognized this Birdie as his little sister. She’d grown up to be a pretty young woman, but she was still one of them, and he didn’t know where he stood with any of them anymore.

“What’s going on?” Birdie said.

“Getting ready to fix the place up to sell,” Hunt said.

“Changing out the locks, too?” she asked.

“On advice of Mom’s lawyer,” Hunt said.

She blinked.

“Why?”

“I guess so people can’t come and go and carry stuff off that doesn’t belong to them.”

“Are you talking about us?”

He shrugged.

“But it was Mama’s stuff. Who else would it belong to but us?” Birdie asked.