“The hills and valley got their own beauty,” Talley said, stacking another towel on the growing pile. “But they’re as still as they can be. The world moves around them.”

“Not like that here. We move around the ocean.”

“Creates the sense of coming and going,” Talley said, nodding. “I saw a ship out there last night. It was lit up like a Christmas tree.”

“The fishing ships drop anchor off the shore in the evening so they have their lines in the water before sunrise, when the fish bite best. I bet the boat you saw belonged to my uncle Henry.”

“Have you been out on a ship?”

“Sure. Hundreds of times. I caught ten spot fish last month with Uncle Henry.”

“I’ve caught fish in the river. I don’t suppose they’re that different.”

“No, I suppose they’re not, though I’d have to see both fried up on a plate and taste each to be sure.” Ruth’s stack of towels teetered slightly, so she started a new pile. “Friday nights are always the fish fries, so you’ll have more than your share of ocean fish by the end of the summer.”

“Aunt Edna was telling me about the daily menus.”

“Chowder on Saturday, fried chicken on Sunday, barbecue on Monday, spaghetti on Tuesday . . .” Ruth rattled off the entire list. “Never changes. Daddy said he can budget better if he knows what to buy, and he said folks like something they can depend on in this crazy world.”

“I never get tired of a hot meal.” Talley spoke as if it were an oddity.

“What does your daddy do?” Ruth asked.

“He’s a minister, and he farms, hunts, makes wicker baskets in the winter. He stays busy, but with all of us to feed, it’s always a stretch.”

“And your mama?”

“She keeps the house, does some mending. She’s not like Aunt Edna. She doesn’t know how to run a business or anything.”

“You’d think sisters would be the same.”

“As different as night and day, according to my mama,” Talley said.

Ruth had never met her extended family. There was Uncle Henry, who was really Daddy’s cousin, but she’d never met anyone from Mama’s side. “How many cousins are there?”

“Well, you’re one. Patsy, her twin, has four. Mama has eight. No one knows about Beth Ann. She run off with Cousin Carol years ago.”

“Where’d Carol and Beth Ann run off to?” Ruth asked.

“Don’t know. Mama says those two girls was the prettiest of the lot and likely found themselves rich husbands.”

Ruth added up the numbers in her head. “I got at least twelve first cousins.”

“Likely more, considering Beth Ann.”

“Mama doesn’t talk much about her family.”

“We all know about Aunt Edna. Mama and Aunt Patsy always enjoy talking about her letters.”

“What do you know about Mama?”

Talley smoothed out wrinkled terry cloth. “She was the first to leave town, and Grandma used to say Edna was the one who gave Carol and Beth Ann the idea to run. But when Aunt Patsy and Mama gossip about Aunt Edna’s leaving, their gripes always end with how much they miss her.”