“She didn’t have kids at the same time I did, though,” Polly said. “Bless her heart, it was several years after she and Frank married before Rosemary came along, and then she had you. If it hadn’t been for you, she’d never have survived Rosemary’s dying so young.”

“It’s sweet of you to say that.” Lily’s voice cracked a little.

“A mother should never have to bury a child,” Polly said. “We’re born with the knowledge that we will have to lose our parents, and that’s a natural grief. But to mourn a child is unnatural grief. I was glad that Vera had her kids later in life. That way we never had that empty-nest thing because we still had you around.” She took off her coat and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. She towered above Lily and was thin as a rail, yet her blue eyes still sparkled with lots of life. “Let’s all gather ’round and break into that dip. Then we’ll have some cake for dessert and call it all an afternoon snack. Where are the kids? And why did you decide to move back here in the middle of the school year? Sally told me yesterday that you were coming, but she was busy with a customer so I didn’t ask for details.”

“Kids are in the living room. I had to get them out of the city. Have to explain later,” Lily whispered, and then yelled, “Hey, we’ve got chips and dip and chocolate cake if y’all want to . . .”

Braden was in the room with Holly right behind him before she even finished the last words. Mack took a gallon jug of sweet tea from the refrigerator, got down five glasses, and asked, “Braden, you want to help put ice in these glasses?”

“I’ll help him,” Holly offered.

“Sweet Jesus!” Polly laid a hand on her heart. “They’ve grown up so much. They were just little things when Vera passed on.”

“I was expecting them to look like they did at Vera’s funeral, too,” Mack said as he took down a stack of small plates. “Guess we get a picture in our minds of the last time we saw a person, and we don’t think about the passing of time.”

He handed the stack to Lily. She took it and dealt the plates around the table. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat at the kitchen table with her kids. They usually heaped a plate and either took it to the living room or to their bedrooms. She scooped out two big spoonfuls of the dip and passed it on to Mack, who was sitting beside her at the round table. There was a slight tingle when his hand brushed against hers, but she chalked it up to nerves.