Despite his objections, I’m considering arranging a casual introduction between him and Lauren. You know, something simple, maybe accidently on purpose telling them to come to the bar at the same time. Or how about a dinner party? I could invite Cash and Jean-Pierre and—
“I always thought those two made an interesting pair.” Auntie June interrupts my mental machinations.
“Who? Luc and Cash?”
She nods.
“Yeah. Cash is all about the excitement and the drama,” I say. “He keeps everyone on their toes. While Luc is super easy. Being around him is like sitting on the banks of the Gulf watching the tide turn.”
Luc parks Smurf next to the curb and he and Cash shove out of the truck. They make their way up the walk, and my palms begin to sweat.
Luc looks dark and dapper in a fawn-colored sports coat. Cash is wearing a lightweight gray suit sans tie. The first two buttons on his dress shirt are open, and I’m struck by the contrast between the tanned skin of his throat and the white cotton of his shirt.
Today he looks healthy.
Today he lookssober.
I feel an overwhelming rush of relief.
“Lord have mercy.” Auntie June fans herself. “Hotter than two-dollar pistols, the both of them.”
I laugh, but I think it has more to do with nerves than my great-aunt’s colorful assessment.
Auntie June and Aunt Bea were my father’s aunts.Hisfather was their brother. But he’s long gone now, died of colon cancer before I was born. Now the family consists of me, Vee, Aunt Bea, Auntie June and her kids and grandkids. Which doesn’t seem like nearly enough. Because, like Michael J. Fox once said,Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.
“Miss June!” Cash booms once he and Luc have climbed the front steps. Years ago, he learned that, here in the South, when you address an older woman, it’s a sign of respect to addMissin front of her first name regardless of her marital status. “It sure is good to see you. You remember us, right?”
“How could I forget?” Auntie June asks as I help her stand from the porch swing. “You’re the two scoundrels who got Maggie thrown in jail for fishing without a license.”
“I didn’t get thrown in jail,” I argue. “I only got fined.”
It’s been a long time since I thought about that day down by the river. I remember it was warm and sunny, and for once the humidity wasn’t sitting at nearly 90 percent. Luc and Cash stayed busy catching channel cats—those big, slimy fish with their bulbous eyes and long whiskers—but I spent most of the afternoon lying on a blanket, lazily reading a book and watching the dragonflies flit around the wildflowers.
“And brought home in the park ranger’s truck, if memory serves,” Auntie June insists.
“That’s true,” I admit. “Aunt Bea was fit to be tied.”
“Her usual state.” Auntie June grins. Then she turns to Cash. “Cassius Armstrong, still handsome as homemade sin, I see.”
He kisses the back of her hand. “I don’t know how you do it, Miss June, but you’re aging backward. You look younger now than you did ten years ago.”
She makes a rude noise. “And still too charming for your own good.” She turns to look Luc up and down, whistling through her dentures. “Lucien, my boy, look at you. Pretty as a pie supper. How come some woman hasn’t leg-shackled you yet, huh?”
He leans forward to kiss her weathered cheek. “Are you volunteering, Miss June?”
She hoots merrily and slaps his shoulder. “You couldn’t keep up with me.” An ornery twinkle enters her eye when she threads her arm through his. “But I’m of a mind to let you try.” She leads him toward the front door, calling back to me and Cash, “Come on, y’all. Come inside out of this pea-pickin’ heat.”
Before I can follow, Cash stays me with a hand on my wrist. “We’ll be there in a sec,” he assures her.
I glance up at him questioningly after Luc and Auntie June disappear inside.
“I want to say two things,” he tells me.
My heart begins to gallop like a runaway horse. Is this it? Is he ready to explain?
“The first is, I’m sorry about ruining the second line. And the second is, you look especially pretty today.”
I release a disappointed breath. Then, pasting on a fake smile, I bat my eyelashes and thicken my accent. “This old thing? I grabbed the first thing in my closet.”
