“Pretty, huh? Okay then. Pass granted,” she said. “Don’t worry about the pie plate. I’ll pick it up in a few days, and I hope you don’t mind if I pop in now and then to see the changes you’re making.”

“Sure. No problem,” Hunt said. “And thanks again for the pie.”

“My pleasure,” Ava said. “Rest well, and if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Hunt turned on the porch light, walked out with her onto the porch, then waited until she got in her car and drove away. After he went back inside, he ate one more piece of pie, then cleaned up the kitchen and called it a night.

* * *

Gordon was still at his buddy’s house watching football when Emma sat down at the kitchen table to eat her supper alone. She was upset that Birdie was angry with her—and knew before tomorrow was over, they would all be on Birdie’s hit list. But there wasn’t anything she could say that would ever make it better.

A couple of neighbors had brought food to the house earlier in the day, so she was picking at that without really tasting it. They had to go view Mama’s body tomorrow after the reading of the will, and if they were satisfied with her appearance, then the funeral home would open her casket for public viewing.

She’d known this day was coming, but the reality of it, coupled with Hunt’s unexpected appearance, was more than she’d bargained for.

She pretended she was asleep when Gordon finally came home. She could smell beer on his breath and knew from the way he was stumbling around trying to be quiet that he’d had too much to drink. But she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t even react when he literally fell into bed, and within minutes he was sound asleep and snoring. She rolled over so that her back was to him and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Ava thought about Hunt all evening, and then couldn’t sleep after she went to bed, remembering all the times when she was growing up that he’d been her hero and he’d never even known it.

Like the day she fell on her way to Marjorie’s after school and walked in the house sobbing, her elbow and a knee dripping blood. Marjorie ran to get a washcloth and water to clean up the scrapes, and when Hunt walked in behind her and saw the blood, he dropped his books and sat Ava in his lap while his mother cleaned her up. She was eight years old and he was twelve. In her mind, he was nearly grown.