Page 14 of The Usual Family Mayhem

One final look then I’d get up and walk out. I clicked on a tab then scrolled the whole way over and saw the previously hidden column on the right side. A few of the entries had a star there. Not all of them. Not many of them, actually. Just an unexplained star and nothing else.

The most recent starred item went to Abigail Burns just a few days ago. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t picture a face. I hope she enjoyed the gift basket with assorted goodies and the banana cream pie and whatever about it that made it star-worthy.

I didn’t have a business degree, but nothing looked out of place. I took a photo of the delivered and yet-to-be delivered lists with my phone so I could study them later.

My phone buzzed but I ignored it. Micah had already left a voicemail asking for a status check “on the grandmas” and that meant my time was running out.

I was starting to regret leaving law school.

Chapter Eight

Hours later, my cupcake lunch had worn off. After studying those ledger photos, I was ready for dinner. Gram ate dinner at six. She said five was too early and seven was ridiculous, so exactly six. If you weren’t there, you didn’t eat... and may the lord help you if you complained about what was on the menu. Never argue with the person cooking the meal.

Five minutes until mealtime.

The intoxicating smell of roasting pork hit me before I walked through the doorway to the kitchen. Someone had already prepared the table. Four place mats and four sets of dishes. A bounty of barbecued pulled pork, cheese grits, and green beans in their respective serving dishes.

That combo could only mean one thing: Jackson was coming to dinner. He loved this meal.

Lawyers ate at six? That didn’t sound right.

Before I could ask, he walked in with a perfect, smooth stride. All businesslike in his dark suit. A different dark suit from the one he wore yesterday. One that fit him like he was born in it.

He kissed Gram where she stood next to the refrigerator and Celia as she sat down at one end of the table. He stopped and looked at me with fake surprise. “You’re still here.”

I could play this game, too. “Is this what time you eat lunch?”

Celia clearly thought it was a real question and not a snide comeback because she answered, “He joins us for dinner at least once a week.”

“What a good boy.” Celia might not catch my sarcasm, but Jackson would.

He winked as he took off his suit jacket. “I’m a boy who enjoys great food and knows what time it’s served around here.”

Some things never changed, including Gram’s pulled pork recipe. See, this was Carolina barbecue. That meant slow roasted with vinegar and spices. None of that inferior sweet tomato barbecue nonsense touted by other states. This was shredded and tender, and in our house served without a roll because that’s how Jackson preferred it.

“He goes back to work after he eats, but he thinks we don’t know,” Gram said as she set the sweet tea pitcher on the table. “He works too much.”

Even I had to admit the way Jackson kept up with the ladies was kind of sweet. He checked in. They fed him. It sounded like the perfect relationship to me.

“Did you hear Cash died?” Jackson asked.

What a way to start a meal. He could have at least let me fill my plate first. “That was a bit dramatic.”

He shrugged. “I walked in, sat down, and started a conversation.”

He also managed to bring dinner to a crashing halt before it even started, which I did not appreciate at all. “My description stands.”

“When?” Gram put the platter of pork down instead of passing it. “I hadn’t heard anything.”

Celia shook her head. “What a shock.”

Celia didn’t sound all that shocked or sad. Her voice stayed steady, almost without emotion. Gram sounded the same. Neither asked a basic question. Like,Howdid Cash die?The look that passed between them was... well, weird.

I needed to keep up my end of the discussion and that required more information. “Is Cash a horse, a dog, or a person?”

Jackson almost smiled but buried it in time. “A person. Cash Burns.”

Huh.Not any clearer but strangely familiar. “That’s his actual name?”

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