Page 30 of Rumor Has It

“Sorry Mrs. Sanchez, I was just asking Cassidy if she’d agree to be on the lookout for a delivery. I’ve had these jeans on since I left Tennessee. If I wear them much longer, they might be able to walk away on their own.” He pulls the cotton t-shirt fabric at his midsection. “She did hook me up with a fresh shirt, for which I am obliged.”

“My husband will appreciate seeing you sporting that. So, anytime you want to wear it around Nashville, go right ahead.”

“I will definitely do that.”

“Come on in, both of you.” She beckons us further into the house. “Cass, your mama is in the kitchen with Paisley getting everything ready for lunch. Isaiah, Jake and Cris are already in the studio waiting for you. Do you remember the way?”

“Yes, ma’am I do.” Isaiah squeezes my elbow. “Thank you, Cassidy,” he says, his expression serious. “I’m glad you agreed.”

All I can do is nod and watch him walk away.

In the kitchen, ingredients cover every counter. Paisley is stirring spices into a huge silver bowl of flour. My mother leans a hip to the freestanding range, opening a box of macaroni.

“Hi, sweetheart!” My mama calls, opening her arms.

“I didn’t expect you to be here.” I sink into her fluffy sweatshirt, giving her a big hug.

Mama, and Daddy for that matter, lucked out. Gracyn and I never grew taller than either of my parents. We’re still looking up to them, and not just for advice. Their relationship survived some difficult problems early on. I think witnessing the bull-headedness they exhibited, their unwillingness to give up when the going got tough, is also what’s made my half-sister’s marriage to a much older man work.

I’d like to believe the reason I haven’t settled down yet is I’ve seen how good a marriage between the right partners is. Seeing as I don’t date often, the other option is I’m picky, so I’m sticking to door number one.

“We’re making enough to feed a small army.” Mama tells me. “Stick around. Daddy will be here in a while and he mentioned this morning he’s barely seen you since Thanksgiving.”

In anyone else’s house, it might be weird if the hostess hadn’t extended the invitation, but that’s just sorta the way it happens around here. There’s always room for one more at the table. Still, when Auntie D hands me a knife, a cutting board, and a head of red cabbage, I spread the sarcasm on thick.

“And that none of you can make coleslaw without it being watery has nothing to do with it?”

Daveigh slides the mayo, apple cider vinegar, and sugar toward my chopping station. “You are so talented, Cass. We just don’t want to fail in front of you.”

The pot my mother is waiting to heat comes to a boil. She rolls the sleeves of her short crewneck sweatshirt and pours the macaroni in. “Ow!” She yelps, splashing hot water on her hand by accident. She wipes it on the flared leggings covering her trim thighs. “See what we mean,” she jests, though my mother isn’t a horrible cook.

“How’s your houseguest, Cassidy? Aside from Isaiah regretfully being young enough for me to be his mother?” Paisley asks.

I’m shocked when my mother snickers.

“What? We’re old, not dead!” Mama intones.

“Or blind,” my aunt adds. She stops plucking grapes for a fruit salad. “Did Isaiah wear what he had on yesterday to dinner last night? I thought he had reservations at the steakhouse.”

Paisley makes a low “ooh”. Her eyes roll back in her head because anyone who has gone there understands the restaurant is that good.

“Who did he go with?” Mama pipes up.

“Why do you think I know these things about Isaiah?” Is it hot in here all of a sudden?

I rinse my hands under the faucet and dry them. Then I pull my hair back with a rubber band I had in my pocket, and spin to open the upper cabinet where my aunt keeps the ingredients for peanut butter and honey sandwiches. When I turn around, all three women have stopped what they are doing and are gaping at me.

“Cassidy, did Isaiah takeyouto dinner?” Mom is astounded.

“Where did he get a suit from?” Paisley, who owns a clothing store, wants to know.

Auntie D’s gracious disposition and restraint notwithstanding, she looks like the cat that ate the canary. I’m pretty sure Daveigh took some sort of vow of secrecy when she married Uncle Cris… Or maybe he made her sign an NDA, too.

I cradle a bottle in my palm, gratified I don’t have to explain getting dumped by two men in swift succession. “My love life isn’t up for discussion.”

“That’s perfectly fine since we were more interested in Isaiah’s,” Paisley laments.

Mom makes a funny face, sewing her mouth shut, and we return to our cooking stations.

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