flipping pages and signing on the appropriate lines. “What if none of us want to leave at the end of the quilting stuff?” She tucked an errant strand of curly red hair behind her ear as if focused on the document, but her steely blue eyes floated in tears.
Leave it to Nessa to ask that question. She’d always been Nanny Lucy’s favorite of the three, even when she rebelled against her father’s strict religion and did not marry the guy he had picked out for her. Nessa looked like Lucy and was the daughter of her favorite child.
“Then I suggest you learn to live together in harmony,” Paul answered as he pulled envelopes from his briefcase.
“Did she leave any money at all?” April asked as she took her turn with the pen.
That’s April, Flynn thought. When Nanny Lucy’s only daughter, Rachel, died just four days after April was born, Granny had taken her in and raised her, given her a home until she graduated from high school and moved to San Antonio to live with a group of her friends. She had been a pretty little girl with a round face and blonde hair, but from the looks of her now, life had not been too good to her.
“There’s a thousand-dollar check for each of you up front,” Paul informed them. “Beginning today, you will be responsible for the electric bill. I’ve taken care of having the bill put in Nessa’s name. Y’all can figure out how you want to split the payment. The propane tank is full, and the water comes straight from a well. I’m not sure what there is in the house in the way of food. She died quite suddenly, as you all know.” Paul passed the three envelopes around, one to each of them.
“On Christmas Day.” April wiped a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her chambray shirt. “I didn’t even get to come to the funeral.”
“That’s on you.” Nessa glared at her. “I tried to get in touch with you.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” April said. “You’re not God. I lost my job, got kicked out of my apartment, and was living in my car with no phone. Not all of us—”
Nessa’s finger shot up so fast it was a blur. “Don’t start with that poor, poor, pitiful me crap. It’s not like I was royalty. I worked hard to get my teaching degree. I’ve taken care of myself since I was eighteen and Daddy cut me off. Granny raised you herself, so you had it better than me or Flynn, either one.”
“Yeah, right.” April folded her arms across her chest and turned to stare out the window.
“We don’t need to air our dirty laundry in public.” Flynn shot stern looks across the table.
“I think that concludes our business,” Paul interjected, “but maybe I will remind you, again, that on the second page of the will, it states that Jackson Devereaux, your next-door neighbor, not only has possession of the hope chest, but he also has the key that opens it. The Blossom Quilting Club will inspect your quilt when it is finished, and if they give you a passing grade on it, he will open the chest to add the quilt to whatever it holds. Then the chest itself will remain in his custody until one of you gets married.” Paul closed his briefcase. “My business card is attached to each of your copies of the will. If you have questions, feel free to call.”
“Thank you,” Flynn said. “We appreciate you meeting us here.”
“You are welcome.” He smiled and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Blossom isn’t that far from Paris, and I’ll take any excuse to come to Weezy’s. I love their pies.” He picked up his briefcase and disappeared out the door.
“Well, you’ve each got a thousand dollars,” Flynn said. “Are y’all really serious about leaving or staying? I think I’ll stick around. My curiosity wants to know what’s in the hope chest.”
Besides, I need a place to see if I can become a better man, he thought as stared at the menu. I don’t like the person I am right now. I need some direction, and I hope coming back to Blossom will turn me around.
“I’m not going anywhere. I finished up the school year yesterday, and I don’t go back to Turkey, Texas, until the middle of August”—Nessa picked up a menu—“if I go back at all. I’m serious about that much anyway. I may look for a