to your room. They aren’t going to grow wings and float up there for you.”
Holly looked over her shoulder and rolled her big blue eyes toward the gray skies. “Why didn’t the movers put them in the rooms where they belonged?”
“Because I told them to leave them on the porch,” Lily answered. “And I told Mack not to bring them inside. So get on with it, my darlin’s. It’ll be a big mess if it rains on them.”
She almost felt sorry enough for Braden to help him, but then she remembered her own shock, dismay, and disappointment over the preceding events.
Mack threw open the door. It had been years since she’d seen him, and her first impression right then was nothing short of shock. He was a little heavier than he’d been five years ago when he’d attended her mother’s funeral, but it was in all the right places. His broad shoulders and huge biceps strained the seams of his oatmeal-colored knit shirt. Faded jeans hugged his big thighs, and his cowboy boots were scuffed and worn, marking him for a real rancher, not a Saturday-night wannabe. She’d forgotten what a good-looking man he was, and now she was going to be living in the same house with him.
“Hey, y’all made it. I thought I heard a car drive up. Come right in. Here, Braden, let me help you with that. It’s about to drag you down, boy.”
Braden glanced at his mother. Lily sighed. “If Mack wants to help, that’s fine by me. But you have to do the unpacking. I’ll check your rooms later to see that everything is put away.”
“Thank you, sir,” Braden said respectfully.
Lily picked up one of her own boxes and followed them into the foyer and up the narrow staircase to the second floor. Holly fell in behind her and huffed all the way to the top as if she were toting a pregnant elephant up the steps, when in all actuality, the box had nightshirts and underwear written on the side of it.
“I’ve got a pot of loaded potato soup simmering, and corn bread is ready to go in the oven. Where do I put this, Braden?” Mack asked.
“Mama says we’ll have the same rooms we did when we were little kids and came to visit Grandma and Grandpa, so this one.” He pointed to one of the four bedrooms. “Potato soup’s the best—I’m starving.”
“You unpack that one while I bring the rest of your stuff up, and then I’ll help Holly,” Mack said.
“I can get my own,” Holly smarted off.
Lily’s stern look must have had an effect, because Holly added, “But thank you for the offer.”
“Sure thing,” Mack said. “If you change your mind, I’ll be glad to help out.”
Braden had ripped the tape off the top of his first box and was busy taking things out when Lily and Mack started back down the stairs. Memories seemed to reach out from the corners and grab her. Nothing had changed, not even the pictures of herself and her sister lining the staircase wall. The one of them together on the swing set out in the backyard sent a single tear down Lily’s face. That was the last picture taken before Rosemary was diagnosed with a brain tumor and died six months later.
“I remember when you and your sister looked like that,” Mack said.
She wiped the tear away. “I should’ve come back and taken care of this place years ago, but I had too much on my plate.”
“Facing old memories isn’t easy,” Mack said. “You haven’t changed much since high school. I would have known you anywhere.”
“You either,” Lily said. “Except I don’t remember you wearing glasses back then. Do you and Adam look any more alike now than you did then?”
“If anything, we look even more different.” When they reached the door, Mack held it open for her. “He’s a banker in San Antonio and—”
“Still chasing anything that wears a skirt?” Lily asked.
“You got that right. He just told me this morning he was about to get his third divorce.” Mack looked up at the sky. “Hey, I just got the first drop of rain on my face. Let’s just push all these inside to the foyer so they don’t get wet.”
“Thank you for helping, and for not minding if we move in here.” She picked up a couple of lightweight boxes and shoved them to the back of the foyer, past the hall tree and the two ladder-back chairs. Work boots were