The arrangements did nothing but burden me even more with worrying what Pa might try next to speed up the need for whatever was inside the folder.

The florist called out, needing Morty for something, so I took the opportunity to bolt out of the funeral home. Hopefully, it would be my last visit for a very long time. I tossed the folder and car title in the trunk to keep it away from prying eyes and hurried to the driver’s door.

“What did you put in the trunk?” Peg asked before I even settled in my seat.

“Just the car title and some paperwork,” I said quickly, committing to the lie of omission. It was starting to bother me how easily lies fell from my lips anymore. “Let’s go get the haircuts over with and maybe if y’all behave right, I’ll stop by the Piggly Wiggly and get everything to make ice cream sundaes.”

That earned me lots of cheers and helped ease my guilt. “Hopefully, Walynn won’t take long.”

Peg leaned forward and said close to my ear, “I hope that lady ain’t thinking Pa is gonna help scratch her itch.”

“Peg!” I jerked around to glare at him.

He leaned back. “Just speaking the truth. That’s what those ladies at the library were saying the other day.”

“About Pa?” I met Peg’s eyes in the rearview mirror and he shook his head.

“No. About Walynn always looking for a new man to help scratch her itch.”

“Foxy says it ain’t polite to scratch in public,” Nash remarked.

“Foxy is right,” I added quickly, wanting to move away from the scratching Peg was talking about.

In all honesty, I did not care for the likes of Walynn Posten. I could tolerate a lot of people, but the loud, hair spray–wielding woman who wore her pants so tight you could see her religion was not one of them.