“Oh…” Also standing, he nodded, as though deep in thought. But then unexpectedly asked, “Why do you look like that, Duane?”

“Like what, Cletus?”

“Like your heart is diseased. I told you, we’re in the clear. No need to worry any longer. And your egg white secret is safe with me.”

“I know.” I nodded, but didn’t respond further because I had nothing to say. I wasn’t going to whine about Jessica. I was going to suck it up and move on…eventually. In about thirty years.

Unfortunately, Beau liked to gossip. “He’s upset because Jessica James just inherited a mountain of money from her aunt and now she’s leaving.”

I glared at my twin, promising retribution at a later date. He gave me a sympathetic look in exchange, which only fueled my ire. I didn’t want pity.

“Miss James is leaving? In the middle of the school year?” Cletus appeared to be genuinely distressed. “But we were just getting to integrals.”

I shrugged. “I don’t rightly know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Jackass James pulled us over, told us both a week ago.” Beau pressed the point while Jethro raised an eyebrow and glanced between the two of us.

“Jessica James…” Jethro said her name thoughtfully, as though trying to recall her image. “Didn’t she wait tables at Daisy’s Nut House? You’ve had a thing for her since I can remember.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Jethro.” I gave him a hard look and set the plates back on the table in front of him. The Iron Order blackmail problem might be close to solved, but I was still feeling very little charity where my oldest brother was concerned.

“Well, is she leaving, or not? Because we have a test next week and I feel pretty good about the material,” Cletus pressed.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and shook my head. “I don’t know. She said she doesn’t have any plans to leave immediately, but she doesn’t have any reason to stay.”

Cletus and Beau’s frowns were severe.

“No reason to stay? What kind of swill is that? What are you—pig liver? What a heartless doxy.”

I huffed, not liking Cletus’s uncharitable assessment, because, if memory served, I was pretty sure “doxy” meant the same thing as floozy. I was also growing impatient and needed this conversation to end.

“Look, she wants me to go with her, okay? She’s not heartless. She’s following her dreams, and I can’t fault her for that. And I can’t hold her back, so I broke things off.”

Beau and Cletus shared a look, then Beau said, “So…what’s the problem? Why don’t you go with her?”

Dumbfounded, I stared at my twin, then my older brother. They were watching me as though expecting me to explain myself when the reasons were perfectly obvious. I looked to Jethro for help, but he was staring at me like he didn’t understand the problem either.

I growled at their thick-headedness and turned away, shaking my head and making for the exit. Cletus stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Now, hold on. Beau’s question is valid. We all know how you’ve been pining after Miss James, what’s the problem? Maybe I can fix it.”

I answered through gritted teeth, “The problem, Cletus, is that I’m part owner in the shop, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So, you and Beau think you can keep up with business without me?”

He shrugged again. “Maybe. Maybe not. If I’m honest, I’d say probably not. But then we could always hire a replacement.”

I stared at him, again dumbfounded, and added, “What would I live on, huh? If I went off with her? All my savings is in that shop.”

“We’d buy you out if you want.” This answer came from Beau. “Or you could get a job wherever you and Jess land. Auto mechanics—good ones—aren’t easy to find. Plus, there’s your racing, and there’s always circuits out there, especially if you stay in the south and mid-west for a bit.”

“Or you could stop being such a proud douchebag, let Miss James and her inheritance keep you in style, earn your keep the old-fashioned way.” Jethro grinned as he said this, cocking an eyebrow, then winked at me.

I was tempted to punch him in the face again.

“Sign me up for some of that,” Beau said, also grinning. But then his smile fell and he cleared his throat, looking away when I glared at him.

“The point, my dear brother, is that there’s nothing keeping you here other than your own stubbornness.” Cletus’s tone was instructive and gentle and incredibly irritating.

“What about honor? Huh? Obligation?”

“To whom? Us? Beau and me?” Cletus shook his head. “You think we want to look at your grumpy face for the next twenty years, regretting your decision every day? No thank you, sir. You’re already ornery enough as it is.”

Cletus wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin then placed the used paper towel on top of the plates stacked in front of Jethro.

“You better get started on those dishes,” he said to Jethro. “It’s the least you can do given the trouble you’ve caused. And you,” he turned to me, “you need to call Tina and tell her we got it covered. We can’t have her messing things up or making complications.”

I nodded.

“What about me?” asked Beau, sitting back in his chair, looking mighty relaxed and pleased.

“Well now, Beau. You and I,” Cletus clamped his hand on my twin’s shoulder, “we need to go find ourselves a turkey.”

CHAPTER 25

“A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.”

― Mark Twain

~Jessica~

Tina brought her new boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner. He wanted us all to call him Twilight.

This was an odd and difficult adjustment for our family because his real name was Isaac Sylvester and my brother had known him since kindergarten. His father, Kip, was my boss and his mother, Diane, ran the bakery in town and read poetry at the library on Thursday nights. His sister, Jennifer, was the baker of those infamous award-winning banana cakes.

And he wanted us to call him Twilight.

I was too tired and melancholy to truly feel the level of bafflement this request deserved. However, I did notice the initial exchange between my brother and Isaac/Twilight when they arrived with Tina’s momma. It went something like this:

Jackson: “Tina. I didn’t know you were bringing Isaac. Good to see you, man.”

Isaac/Twilight: “It’s Twilight.”

Jackson (looking bemused): “No it ain’t, it’s not even noon yet.”

Isaac/Twilight: “No. My name is Twilight.”

Jackson (still looking bemused): “Say what?”

Isaac/Twilight: “My name. Call me Twilight.”

Jackson: “You mean like that My Little Pony character?”

Tina: “Jackson! I didn’t know you were a My Little Pony fan.”

Jackson (scowling then motioning to Isaac/Twilight): “Jessica was always watching it growing up, and I’m not a fan—not like Twilight Sparkle over here.”

Isaac/Twilight: “The name is Twilight, not Twilight Sparkle.”

Jackson (irritated): “If you want me to call you Twilight, then don’t be surprised if I slip up a few times and call you Pinky Pie.”

A similar conversation ensued when Twilight was brought in to greet my dad, except my dad said, “That’s not a name, son. That’s a time of day.”

It didn’t take long for us to realize that the Isaac Sylvester we used to know wasn’t this Twilight fella. Last I’d heard, Isaac had joined the army and was stationed in Afghanistan; that was six years ago. But now the leather jacket he wore covered with Iron Order patches quickly told us everything we needed to know.

My father’s method of solving the inherent awkwardness was to put a beer in all empty hands and turn on the football game so loud no one could speak. Tina stayed with the men in the family room, basically sitting on Twilight’s lap.

Meanwhile my momma, my daddy’s sister, and I made dinner. It was just as well. Mashing potatoes was a good outlet for my gloomy aggression, and neither my mother nor my aunt expected me to talk much.