“Remind me again why you haven’t gotten your own place yet?”
“Seemed prudent to settle on a job and known level of income first.”
Riley couldn’t fault the sensibility of that. She patted his cheek. “C’mon, Boy Scout. We have to go be good children.”
They headed into the kitchen.
“—surprised you didn’t do a big cookout,” Sharilyn was saying. “I have such fond memories of cookouts over here.”
“Oh we still throw them from time to time, but Wynne couldn’t make it home and I thought the kids might appreciate not being paraded in front of half the town.”
Liam walked over to squeeze his mother’s shoulders. “The kids appreciate your self-restraint.”
Molly tugged him down for a noisy kiss. “No matter how big you get, you’ll always be my baby.”
Riley relaxed as they finished setting out silverware, napkins, and serving dishes. It was hard to be anything but relaxed at this table, surrounded by the scents of fresh fried chicken, potato salad, and fried green tomatoes. Some of her best memories were here.
Beneath the table, Liam’s knee nudged hers. How many times had that happened growing up, crammed around the table with him and the rest of his family? Always an accident then. It was very much on purpose now, a harmless, flirty gesture that kept distracting her from the conversation.
“How are things going at the market?” Molly asked.
“Really well Matthew’s happy, so I’m off the probationary period as a checker. That was a relief. I was worried about learning to run the register, but the computer actually makes it really easy.”
“Technology is a beautiful thing,” Molly agreed.
“When it works anyway. We had a young girl in the store today trying to buy her groceries and there was something wrong with her EBT card—wasn’t anything to do with her, the system had been squirrelly all day—but the lines were pretty long and someone said something rude about ‘some people’ loud enough she could hear. Poor thing got so upset and embarrassed, she ran out of the store without any groceries.”
Riley’s heart ached for the girl. She well remembered the various sly comments and judgmental remarks heaped on her as a child when they’d been in dire straits.
“That’s awful,” Molly said. “Who was it?”
“I didn’t know her. Really young. Nineteen or twenty maybe? Sandy hair. Dark eyes. Row of piercings going up one ear. I’ll never understand why people need more than one set of holes.”
Riley stilled. That was Tara Honeycutt. She had way more on her plate than anybody her age deserved. “Who was the jerk?”
“Gary Hopper.”
“Clearly the apples don’t fall far from the tree,” she muttered.
“Amber Hopper was in your class, wasn’t she?” Liam asked.
Riley’s hand clenched around her fork. “Yes, yes she was. Her sister, Brandy, was two years ahead.” And between the two of them, they’d made junior high a living hell.
Molly frowned. “Amber is the only fight Wynne ever got into. She never would admit what it was over.”
“I remember that.” Liam forked up another tomato from the platter. “Cruz pulled her off. Said he was sure Wynne was going to pull half the hair out of that girl’s head.”
“Wynne was my little Zen child,” Molly said. “It would’ve taken a lot to rile her to that point.”
Riley realized everyone was looking at her.
“You must’ve been there,” Liam said. “You and Wynne were always joined at the hip.”
She dropped her gaze and poked at her chicken. “Yeah, I was there.”
The silence dragged out, until she felt a twitch between her shoulders.
“She was a bully, okay? A stupid, hateful, privileged little snot, who liked to take pot shots at me.”