gift of storytelling that her grandson had inherited from his grandfather Blakely, along with Preston’s throaty laugh. Seeing the genetic imprint carry on from generation to generation was, for her, a blessing of growing older. Her attention was distracted, however, by Adele. She meandered about the room perusing the colonial-era furniture with a proprietary air. She stopped before an empire bookcase that held several pieces of family silver.
“Well, I’ll be….” She reached into the cabinet and lifted out a small engraved silver cup. “You found my porridge cup!”
Mama June came directly to her side. “Yes! After all these years we found it when we moved furniture in the dining room. It was wedged between the breakfront and the wall. Don’t ask me how it got there.”
“It was probably Press or Tripp that hid it there, just to rile me.” Adele tenderly turned the burnished silver cup in her hands. “I never thought I’d see this again.”
“Why don’t you keep it? Take it home with you,” Mama June offered.
Adele’s gaze shot up. “How nice of you to offer me my own porridge cup,” she said with sharp sarcasm that put Mama June’s teeth on edge.
From the corner of her eye she caught Morgan’s swift turn of head at the tone, his eyes searching.
Despite Mama June’s protests, Adele put the porridge cup back on the shelf with a great show.
Mama June was sensitive to the fact that it was difficult for her sister-in-law to be a guest in the house she’d grown up in. Though she’d never said so openly, it was clearly understood by both women that even though Mama June owned Sweetgrass, she wasn’t from Sweetgrass. And that fact was a major burr under Adele’s seat.
Letting the comment slide, she smiled and announced it was time for dinner.
The large meal that Mama June had slaved over was consumed with relish and compliments. She beamed as she watched her grandsons help themselves to seconds of the chicken with Madeira sauce from an old family recipe. The cocktails had loosened their tongues and they talked amiably as they ate. For a while she felt transported in time to when such gatherings were commonplace at Sweetgrass. Morgan, never much of a talker, spoke openly about his life in Montana, and the boys ate up his stories and peppered him with questions. They liked him, she thought with delight. And the feeling was mutual. Too soon, it was time to clear the dishes, and Nan helped her serve the pecan pie and ice cream that was a universal favorite.
She was pouring coffee when a subtle mood shift indicated they all sensed the chitchat was over and it was time to talk business. Their radars finely honed to such nuances, the boys asked to be excused from the table and dashed for the exit. Mama June sought Morgan’s eyes and they shared a commiserating look.
He cleared his throat and all heads turned toward him. She had purposefully set him in Preston’s seat at the head of the table, a gesture she knew had not gone unnoticed by Adele at his right. Nan sat to his left and Hank to Mama June’s right at the table’s other end.
“I wish my homecoming had been under happier circumstances,” he began.
“Lord knows we all waited long enough, bless your heart,” Adele said.
“Yes. A long time,” he replied.
How extraordinary, Mama June thought. How coolly her son dealt with Adele’s niggling.
“Well, you’re home now,” Nan said, springing to his defense. “That’s what’s important.”
Mama June smiled gratefully at her daughter.
“Anyway,” Morgan continued, “Mama June has asked me to stay on for a while. And I’ve agreed.”
Adele’s brows rose as she exchanged a quick glance with Hank, who frowned.
“That’s wonderful,” exclaimed Nan. “I’d hoped you would, what with Daddy in the hospital.”
That was her opening. Mama June set her cup down in the saucer and straightened her shoulders. She looked around the table then settled on the supportive, bolstering stare of Morgan.
“I have good news. We are bringing Preston home!” she announced. “To Sweetgrass.”
There was a sudden hush over the table, as though a bomb had been dropped.
“You can’t be serious!” Adele blurted out.
“Why not?” Morgan asked. “It makes perfect sense to bring him home. It’s even recommended by the doctors.”
Hank threw his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair in exasperation. “I should think it’s obvious why not,” he said. “The man can’t speak. He can hardly move!”
“Hank!” interjected Nan, horrified.
Mama June’s head swung toward him, speechless with disbelief.
“Why are you surprised?” Hank argued. “It may not be pretty, but it’s the truth. We can’t be romantic about this.”
“But we can be civil,” Mama June retorted.
“Mary June,” Adele said. “I thought we’d talked about this.”
“That doesn’t mean it is what I decided,” she replied. She could feel her back stiffening against the chair.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t mean to offend,” Adele said in that testy manner that informed she was about to do just that, “but everyone knows that Preston shielded you from financial decisions. You preferred it that way. Frankly, you can’t afford to bring him home. There’ll be medical costs, a decrease in family income and a rise in all of your fixed expenditures. You have to face the facts. You must consolidate and sell your assets.”
“You mean,” Morgan said flatly, “sell Sweetgrass.”
Adele turned from Mama June to look at her nephew, her brow raised at the fact that he’d entered the fray. Their eyes met and held for a long moment.
“Yes,” she replied succinctly. “Sweetgrass is your mother’s greatest asset. And it’s actually a very good time to sell.”
“How lucky for us he decided to have his stroke now,” Morgan replied.
Adele bristled.
“Adele,” Mama June said in an appeal for understanding. “This isn’t just about selling property. This is the family heritage. Preston has devoted his life to preserving it. Once Sweetgrass is gone, what will happen to us, to the family?”
Adele’s face hardened. “The family will simply have to move on.”
Mama June drew back. Her voice trembled with emotion. “I could never sell it out from under him. If the stroke didn’t kill him, that surely would.”
“Hank is right. You’re being romantic. I’m very worried about you and Preston,” Adele replied. “And disappointed in this decision.” She turned again to her nephew. “I think it’s plain irresponsible of Morgan to come home and interfere in what had already been decided by the family.”
Morgan
