“You don’t talk about her.”
“No, not much.” He turned his back on her. “Her parents are here in Dog Valley, actually. Well, her momma, still. My grandpa died a couple of years ago.”
“Here?” Lark’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”
He drew in a breath as he put a cube of butter in a bowl and slid it into the microwave. “Yeah. Carrie and Mason Peters. My daddy made sure I saw them all the time growing up.” He picked up the salt and pepper Lark had already gotten out, then opened the fridge to pull out the gallon of milk.
He put his gathered ingredients on the island in front of her, his preferred area to prep, mix, and work. Then he moved down past the sink to where he’d deposited his groceries. “I was going to do bacon and cheese. Is that all right?”
“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked.
Cash moved his plastic bags amongst much rustling to the counter in front of her. “I can look at you.” But he didn’t.
“Cash-honey,” she said.
He sighed and continued taking out the frozen pie crust, a container of pre-shredded Fontina cheese, and a package of bacon. “Listen, I should’ve told you, but I…well, I didn’t. And my parents don’t always entertain more than my daddy’s side of the family.”
Lark waited, her breath washing shallowly in and out of her mouth. “But?”
“I told my dad that we were bringing your grandmother, right?”
“Yes,” Lark said.
“And I guess he took that as a sign that he should invite my grandmother. So Grandma Carrie will be at dinner tonight.”
“Okay,” Lark said, still not seeing the problem. “It’s one person, Cash.”
“She’s….” He ducked and pulled a cutting board out of one of the drawers in the island cabinets. “She says hurtful things,” Cash finally said. “I don’t really like being around her, and I certainly don’t want to subject you to her.”
Lark watched as his fiercely protective streak ran across his face, a smile forming on her own. “Do you think she won’t like me?”
“No,” he said.
“No, she won’t?” Lark’s eyebrows went up. “Why not? I’m going to shower and get ready before tonight.”
Cash finally met her eyes, the concern on his face adorable. “She’ll like you, but she’ll have a comment about your hair, or your sweater.”
“I wasn’t planning to wear a sweater,” Lark said.
Cash rolled his eyes. “Or whatever.” He pulled a knife from the block and deftly opened the package of bacon with the tip of it. “It sounds like she’s complimenting you, but it’s always said with this tone of surprise. Like, ‘Oh, Cash is here?’ as if I’ve ignored her and everyone else for years.”
Lark sensed he needed to talk through this, so she simply watched as he cut the bacon into bits before turning to the stove and setting a bigger pan over the burner she’d been planning to use.
“Or she’s said, ‘You look so cute, Faith. I don’t know how you do it,’ as if my momma is a hag, wearing sweatpants and dirty T-shirts all the time.”
Lark nodded when he swung his attention to her. Just as quickly, he picked up the cutting board of raw bacon and turned to the stove. He scraped the bacon into the pan, where the wonderful sound of hissing lifted into the air.
“And I’m sure she’ll say something about the ornament I made this year—she always comments on that—or what I got for the littles.”
“What did you get for them?”
“I was actually hoping you’d help me wrap it all up.” He turned back to her, all his boyish charm on display.
Lark smiled and nodded. “Sure, baby. I can help with that.”
“Everything is out in the truck,” he said. “I figured we had time.” He took the packaging off the pie crust, read the directions, and moved to put one of them in the oven.
“Cash,” Lark said quietly. “I can’t help feeling like there’s more to your…disconcertion over your grandmother being there tonight.”
