“Rose called Faith a smart-ass bitch.” Holly slid off the bed. “I had my fists doubled up to hit her when Faith pulled me away. She told me that getting ISS or getting expelled wasn’t worth it, and besides, it would be like getting into the gutter with them. But, Mama, the teachers all think they’re good girls.”

“The truth has a way of surfacing,” Lily assured her. “Let’s go make a banana pudding for tonight’s dessert.”

“Banana pudding is only for special days,” Holly said. “Like Easter and Fourth of July.”

“Today is a special day.” Lily draped her arm around Holly’s shoulders.

“I’m not going to argue. Banana pudding is my favorite.” Holly took a step back and followed her down to the kitchen.

Lily’s feet felt like they were floating on air rather than going down the stairs. It was wonderful—no, it went beyond that into fantastic—for Holly to ask her opinion about things these days.

After supper, Mack turned on the television and found a channel showing reruns of NCIS. He twisted the top off a bottle of beer and tipped it up for a long gulp. When he came up for air, Lily had slipped into the living room and was sitting on the other end of the sofa.

“Well, hello,” he said. “Did you figure out what was upsetting Holly?”

She nodded and proceeded to tell him the whole story. “But we can’t tell anyone, or else it’ll all come back on Holly and make things worse.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mack chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Lily’s tone was downright chilly.

“The cops used to make a run to the river about once a month on a Saturday night. They’d round up the underage drinkers, and their parents would have to come get them at the jail. I’m friends with one of the deputies, and he was bragging last week that their busts had cleaned up the situation,” Mack explained.

The smile on Lily’s face started small, but soon she giggled. “The kids just changed it to Wednesday and Friday nights and used choir practice for an excuse to get out of the house. Wonder what they do on Saturday night?”

“Stay home. Get sober. Go to church on Sunday to make their parents think they have wings and a halo.” Mack offered her his beer.

To his surprise, she took it from his hands, took a drink, and handed it back. “Thanks. I rarely have a beer, but I do enjoy one now and then.”

“What’s your favorite drink? Piña colada? Daiquiri?”

“I’m not a mixed-drink or wine person. I like a beer sometimes, or a shot of whiskey on special occasions, but that’s only once or twice a year, if that often,” she told him.