Page 44 of Panty Dropper

CHAPTER 21

Billy

Sitting in my childhood home around the table with both of my brothers and my little sister, there was just something that felt right about it. I had a deep sense of peace, and that things were going to be okay.

At least as far as my family went. I was still feeling all sorts of ways about a pretty lawyer lady that I feared had my heart in the palm of her hands.

Cheyenne sat beside me twisting her hair and it reminded me that my mother used to do the same thing. Whenever Mama was concentrating or worried about somethin’, she’d twirl a strand of hair around her finger. It made me wonder if Cheyenne did it for the same reason.

“It’s good to have you home, Shadow.” It may not have been the most original sentiment, but it was sincere.

And it seemed to do the trick. Her shoulders relaxed and a sweet smile lit up her face. “Thanks.” She let her eyes travel around the rest of the table. “And thank you guys for letting me be here. I really appreciate it.”

Maybe it was the obvious fragility and vulnerability in Cheyenne, or maybe he just felt the familial pull, but Hank gave her a small but warm smile. “It’s a family meeting. You’re family.”

That was damn near poetic comin’ from Hank.

Tears sprang up in Cheyenne’s eyes and she quickly wiped them away. “Thanks,” she said, and her voice trembled softly.

“And, hey, Sis,” Jimmy added, “If you keep bringing this caliber of snacks to all the family gatherings, you’re not only going to be welcome. You’re gonna be the favorite. What are these called, anyway?”

I’d explained to her that it was up to Hank to provide the food, but she’d insisted she didn’t feel right coming empty handed. During breakfast, I convinced her to stay at my place. She argued that she didn’t want to intrude but I assured her she wouldn’t be. I had an empty guest room that had her name on it.

After breakfast we’d checked her out of her hotel and she asked if we could go to a grocery store to pick up a few things. I took her to the Piggly Wiggly and she’d spent the afternoon cookin’ up a storm while I got her room ready.

“Mini Quiche Florentine,” she replied. “I learned the recipe in home ec years ago and I just never forgot it.”

“Dang, girl,” Jimmy said, through a half-full mouth and a smile, “Your home ec class must’ve been slightly different than what we got at Firefly High.”

I glanced at Jimmy sharply. The words, taken alone, could have an accusatory meaning underlying them. But when I looked closely at his face, I could see that there was no snark there. He was genuinely making an observation.

Hank frowned at him, then turned to Cheyenne. “You should know, food is all Jimmy thinks about.”

“Hey!” Jimmy protested. “Food’s not all I think about.”

“Yeah,” I chimed in, good-natured grin on my face. “You’re forgetting all the time he devotes to thinking about drinking, or his boat. Or sleeping.”

Jimmy shrugged at the laughter that spurred. “Hey,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I know what I like, and I stick to it. Nothing wrong with that.”

Hank scooted his chair in closer to the table. It made a loud scraping sound that snapped the rest of us to attention, and I wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t made the noise on purpose.

“We’ve got to talk about Pop’s funeral.” His voice made it clear it was time to get down to business.

“What about it?” I asked.

Hank pulled a sheaf of papers from his back pocket and unfolded them.

“Hank, you do know we already read Pop’s will, right?” Jimmy teased. “I know you’re old, but I didn’t think we had to worry about senility just yet.”

“This isn’t the will, smart ass.”

“What is it?” Cheyenne asked.

“It’s Pop’s last wishes for his funeral,” Hank replied.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” I couldn’t believe it. “He planned his own funeral?”

I hadn’t known our father to plan a single thing in his life. Unless you counted planning on how to get drunk. He planned that every day of his life.

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