“I’ve known that boy’s mother and grandmother for ages,” Jean said. “They’re a fine family. How did he get mixed up in all this?”

“Well,” Quinn said. “Ladarius McCade does break into homes, smash windows out of trucks, and steals cars. Same as TJ Byrd. They’ve been in and out of the sheriff’s office since they were children. That’s why they ran. They don’t believe anyone would listen.”

“Especially not that nasty sheriff from over in Parsham,” Maggie said, joining Jean and Quinn at the table and reaching for a fried pie. Jean glad to see Maggie finally eating something a little unhealthy, that woman always talking organic this and ethically raised that. You had to live a little.

“Lovemaiden?” Jean asked. “Lord. I haven’t heard that name in years. He used to come over here and fish with your uncle out on y’all’s pond. Did he mention your uncle when you saw him?”

“Constantly,” Quinn said. “He said he respected Uncle Hamp because he went along to get along.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think it means he believes I was too hard on Johnny Stagg when I came home,” Quinn said.

Jean decided not to ask any more questions on that subject, as talking about Johnny Stagg always led to unpleasant conversations. That crooked SOB was a stain on the county, an aberration of what kept her tied and close to Tibbehah County, and the thought of him now being out of federal prison turned her stomach. She forked off a small piece of fried pie and took a bite. She smiled, moving on to something else. “How about you, Quinn?” she said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Apple?” Quinn asked.

“Peach,” Jean said. “Maybe some apricot, too. I didn’t ask, Miss Graves being so sweet to make us extra.”

Maggie smiled from across the table, her daughter-in-law always making her feel welcome and at home, although she believed she may have interrupted something by showing up a little early. She reached out and patted Maggie’s hand and smiled back, being so thankful to God that she’d come into her son’s life. A full house with two healthy children and a strong family is all she’d ever hoped for Quinn, not just an empty house filled with cigars and whiskey and old memories, like it had been for poor old Hamp.

Maggie had just cut into her pie when they heard Halley’s cries from the baby monitor.

“I’ll check on her,” Jean said.

“No, ma’am,” Maggie said. “It’s feeding time. But I’ll take that help a little later.”

Jean and Quinn watched Maggie leave the kitchen and heard her bounding up the steps into the loft. When she turned back to Quinn, she could tell something was on her son’s mind and asked him about it.