“How’d you get here before me, darlin’?” Adam headed straight for Lily. “We always play along to keep from upsetting Dad,” he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Touch me, and the only thing you’ll be doing is staring at a hospital-room ceiling,” she said in a soft voice.

Orville sat down at the head of the table and motioned for everyone to take their places. Mack seated Lily while Adam pulled out a chair for his mother. Then both boys sat down across the table from each other. Orville bowed his head and said a short grace and then looked over at Lily.

“I’m so glad all you kids”—he frowned and cocked his head to one side—“you’re not Brenda. You’re Vera Miller’s daughter. I’ve got this forgetting problem lately so I can’t remember your name.” He picked up the platter of fried chicken, took two legs for himself, and passed it on to Adam.

“Thank you for having me.” And for recognizing me. “My name is Lily. Mama passed away, and I’m living in her old house in Comfort.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nora and Vera were good friends. You got kids?” Orville asked.

“Two,” she answered. “A boy and a girl. Braden is twelve. Holly is fourteen.”

“I fell in love with Nora when I was fourteen.” Orville reached over and touched his wife’s arm.

Even with the declaration of love, Lily could feel the tension in the room. Adam glared at Mack, who ignored him. Nora’s eyes kept shifting between the three men, as if she knew one of them would explode at any time.

“This is wonderful fried chicken,” Lily said. “Sometime you’ll have to share your secret with me.” She felt something touch her ankle.

“I’ll be glad to,” Nora said.

Adam was still shooting daggers at Mack, but his foot was sure enough sliding up the inside of Lily’s leg, and it kept going when it reached her knee. There was no way it could be Mack, because he was sitting right beside her. She dropped her chicken on her plate, reached under the tablecloth, and picked up his foot. His expression went from amusement to pain when she bent his big toe backward until it popped.

“Do you use rice flour instead of wheat?” Lily hung on to the toe with both hands like a bulldog with a bone, but she never took her eyes off Nora.

“No, just plain old flour. It’s technique, not recipe. The grease has to be just the right temperature, and oil doesn’t work as well as shortening,” Nora told her.

“I’ll have to try that next time I fry a chicken.” Lily shoved Adam’s foot away from her like it was garbage. “Please excuse me. Where’s the restroom?”

“First door on the left down the hall,” Nora said.