Grabbing Yard’s leash off the hook, I clip it to his collar and quietly sneak out the back.
Overhead, the sky is a clear, vibrant blue. Out on the river, a tugboat pulling a barge blasts its sad-sounding horn. And the buskers are playing on Royal Street.
Death changes everything. And nothing at all.
The door opens behind me, and a bottle of water appears at my elbow. “I thought you might be thirsty. Crying is so dehydrating.”
“Thank you.” I smile at Vee, who comes to stand beside me.
“It’s a wonderful memorial service, Magpie. Cash would’ve loved it. Especially the flannel.”
I grunt. “That man had zero fashion sense.”
“One of his many charms.”
I lift the bottle of water in cheers. “Hear, hear.”
Somewhere nearby, a window is open and bluegrass music drifts over the sill, falling down around us in the twang of a banjo and the cry of a fiddle. The song is “Little Maggie,” and Vee grins. “Coincidence?” she asks.
I lift a shoulder. “Who knows? I’ve learned to stop questioning if anything is fate or destiny or kismet, or if it’s all simply happenstance.”
“Sick of the obscurity of it all?”
“More like I’m sick of knowing I have zero control over any of it.”
“Mmm.” She falls quiet to listen to the song. When it’s over, she starts digging in her purse and comes out with two white envelopes and passes them to me.
My name is printed across the face of one in Cash’s handwriting. When I shuffle the envelopes, I see the second has Luc’s name on it.
“You?” I blink at her in astonishment. “Cash gave them toyou?”
Her lips twist. “There near the end, he needed help with some things. And since he didn’t want you and Luc to know how bad he was, he came to me.”
I frown. “But how did youknow? How did—” I stop midsentence. “It was the New Year’s Eve party, wasn’t it?”
“When I laid into him for parading Scarlet around, he told me. I think…” She swallows and stares in the direction of the river. “I think his pride got the better of him for a split second. I think he couldn’t take me thinking he was a lout when his motives were something else entirely.”
“Why didn’t youtellme?” It’s a question, but it comes out as an accusation.
Yard, hearing the anguish in my voice, sits at my feet and whines up at me. I pat his head to reassure him I’m okay…even though I’mnot.Not by a long shot.
Vee knew? All this time? And she neversaidanything?
It feels like a betrayal.
“He made me promise, Maggie.” Her tone pleads for me to understand. “He said he had a plan to make sure you and Luc would be okay after he was gone, but it wouldn’t work if I told you. He swore that telling you would screw everything up.”
“And you believed him?”
“What choice did I have? The man wasdying. That’s maybe the most personal thingever. It wasn’t my place to out him.”
“For Pete’s sake, Vee.”
“I hated keeping it from you. I swear I did. But what could I do? I gave my word.”
Our parents drilled into us that our word is our bond. Then Auntie June and Aunt Bea took over the job after our folks were gone. Besides gentility and politeness, we Southerners pride ourselves on keeping our promises.
Any and all bitterness drains from me like I’m full of holes, a human sieve. “He put you in a terrible position.”
