Paula took a long look at her mother. One side of her chin-length gray hair was pulled back with a bobby pin. She wasn’t a big woman, but then she wasn’t a thin person, either. If someone put her in a crowd, there wasn’t one feature that would make them take a second look. Too bad she’d been a churchgoing woman all her life, because she would have made an excellent bank robber.

She smiled at that idea, and Gladys shot a dirty look her way. Paula was never going to make her child feel guilty for having a good time or even for smiling. She’d grown up with negativity her whole life, but things were going to be different for her baby. It was going to come into the world with so much love, it would never feel like she did right then.

“What’s so funny?” Gladys asked. “I’m an old woman who lives alone and has to beg her children to come see her a few minutes every so often.”

“I was thinking about your pretty red roses.” Paula knew better than to sit on the embroidered pillow in the rocking chair, so she laid it on the sofa before she sat down. The coffee table, the side tables beside every chair, and even the back of the sofa were covered in crocheted doilies of one size or another. And knickknacks ranging from clowns to angels were scattered everywhere. When she was a child, she could feel their little black beady eyes staring at her, and even now they seemed to be condemning her for not being a better daughter.

“If it weren’t for Selena, they’d die. She’s the one with the green thumb and knows when to spray and when to fertilize. You would kill a silk flower arrangement. And I don’t see what’s funny about red roses, so wipe that grin off your face.” Gladys’s very tone was demanding.

“Mama, let Paula tell us what she’s got to say so I can go home.” Selena tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

“Paula might not know much about roses, but she makes beautiful wedding dresses,” Mitzi defended her.

“Glad she’s good at something.” Gladys glared at Mitzi.

“And she was a damn fine librarian before that. You should be proud of her for getting her degree,” Jody said.

Gladys waggled a finger at Jody. “Don’t you cuss in my house.”

“Mother, I need to tell you—” Paula said.

“Are you dying?” Gladys turned the finger to point at her. “If so, Selena will need to buy me a new black dress. My old one is so worn from going to funerals that it’s faded something terrible.”

Jody gasped. “Mrs. Walker! Paula is your daughter. You’re talking about her like she’s a stranger, or worse yet, a dead stranger.”