“Don’t you raise your voice at me, young man. When you’ve lived twenty more years and raised a child of your own, you can tell me my business. Until then, you close your mouth and listen to somebody who knows better than you do. You hearing me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, kicking the tack room door out of his way and hoisting the saddle up onto a rack. The phone slipped from between his ear and his shoulder, and he caught it before it fell.

“Now I’ll send up those red beans quick so you’ll have ’em, then mail the blanket slow and cheap, but I don’t—” She broke off with a little gasp, and then there was silence on the line.

“Mama? Mama, are you okay?”

He left the tack room and paced down the barn aisle. She still didn’t answer. He exploded out into the sun with long strides, as if that would put him any closer to Louisiana than he’d been inside.

“Mama?!”

“I’m fine. Stop shouting in my ear.” Her voice wasn’t right. Not weak, but . . .

“What are you doing home?” It was too early for her to be off work yet, even with the later time zone there. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I took the day off. Now tell me more about—”

“What do you mean, you took the day off? What for? Are you feeling all right?”

“Don’t you interrupt your elders, LJ. I have been working since before you took your first breath, and if I want to take a day off, that’s my business. When you’ve lived twenty more years and raised a child of your own, maybe then I’ll need you to tell me how I should spend my time. Until then, you mind your own affairs, you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically, but he didn’t remember to blink until his eyes started to burn from the glare of the sun. Was she sick? It could be simply a cold, or she could be headed into another flare-up. “Are you having an okay time getting the groceries?” he ventured. “No problem getting them home on your own?”

“I’m just fine. Don’t you worry none about me.” She dropped her voice. “Son, I’m proud of you, being neighborly and looking after that girl. But if her daddy’s your boss, you have to do what he says. It’s just that your heart’s too big and so’s your temper. I know you don’t want to hear your conscience telling you the truth, but you’re grown now. It’s your job to start listening.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind his temples. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, I’ll mail your package later this week, so keep an eye out. I love you, son. Mind your—”