Aunt Wanda fluffed her hair and stabbed the doorbell with her long nail.

The door opened. I looked at my feet, afraid to look at the person standing before us.

“Well, if it isn’t Wanda Oaks in the flesh,” the man said. It sounded like he was actually happy to see her.

Mason looked away, stifling the laugh trying to escape his throat. Aunt Wanda accepted his embrace. I couldn’t take my eyes off the two of them. He was around her age, a head full of thick brown hair. He looked like the kind of guy that prided himself in his hair. I imagined when he got out of the shower he probably slicked it back with the comb all nice and neat.

The way he stood before us, I could tell he was a confident person. Why did such a person like Aunt Wanda?

“We weren’t sure you would make it in time for breakfast,” he said, moving to the side, welcoming us into his home. He winked at me and smiled. I smiled back, afraid to act strange in his presence.

Mason looked around. Payton elbowed him in the side, keeping her eyes on Roger.

“Anna is just finishing up breakfast. And as soon as she is done we can all sit around the table and catch up while eating a good meal,” he let us all know.

“That sounds great, Roger. Is there somewhere we can put our things?” Aunt Wanda asked.

I almost choked. Roger took her by the elbow and guided her through the hallway.

“Ya’ll can follow me. I’ll get everyone settled,” he said over his shoulder to the rest of us.

We headed through the kitchen. The aroma of rich foods invaded my senses. I caught a glimpse of a petite blonde slaving over the stove.

“We have a guest house. It’s rather nice…lots of renovations. It should suit the four of you well,” he said, moving across the lawn. We stopped in front of a white duplex. A long staircase on the left led straight to the second floor.

“There are two beds upstairs and three beds down, whatever you like. I’ll get out of your hair.” He smiled.

I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and he touched my shoulder. Looking to Wanda, he said, “What’s this one’s name again? This is your niece right, Wanda?” He smiled, looking me over.

“This is Joy-Ann’s daughter, Kendall,” she said. She usually sounded like she was chewing nails when she said my mother’s name, but not this time. That was unusual.

“Nice to meet you, Kendall. You sure do favor your mother, don’t you?” He brushed my hair away from my shoulder and his finger grazed my earlobe.

I was parched and fumbled for words.

“Yeah, she’s got a lot of Joy in her,” Wanda said, speaking for me. She said her goodbyes and shoved me up the stairs once Roger was out of sight.

“Roger knows my mom?” I asked, once we were in inside.

Aunt Wanda dropped her suitcase on the floor. She squirmed out of her fake sweetness, shedding it like a snake sheds its skin. It had to be hard for her. Who knew a woman so horrible even knew how to act nice.

“Roger grew up in our hometown. His family and ours knew each other.” She left it at that.

I didn’t remember ever seeing Roger, so I took her word. For some reason, he was fond of Wanda and my mother. I’d probably never know why he was still so fond of them years later.

“Clean up and head down for breakfast. Keep it together,” she said.

I closed the door after Wanda headed back to the house. I yanked the rubber band from my hair and let it fall down my back. I pulled some clean clothes from my bag and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

“Kendall, you in here?” Mason called from the doorway.

I ran my hands down my face and through my hair, letting the soap suds slip down my body. I was enjoying the moment.

“I’m taking a shower. What’s wrong?” I called, waiting for a reply.

“I guess this is better than a motel,” he said.

I rinsed my hair, wishing I could have a few minutes of peace and quiet to myself.

“Did you see the way he looked at you? What’s up with that?” Mason asked.

I turned the water off, confused by the question.

“He was being nice, Mason.” I grabbed the towel he was offering.

“I’ve met a lot of people too and I’m not stupid. I’d say it was more like subtle flirtation,” he said. “Older men can be perverts. And don’t think they won’t act on it because they’re married.”

I wrapped the towel around me and stepped out of the shower. I nodded, humoring him. Even though I didn’t agree with him, I’d pretend to, to avoid arguing.

“Well, I just wanted to point that out. Wanda and this sweet lady act is making me sick. I don’t know how much food I can stomach. See you downstairs.” He started out of the bathroom.

I laughed, shutting the door and dropping my towel.

“Mason, you are something else,” I said, rubbing the mirror to reveal my face. I looked a ton better now that I was showered. My eyes were brighter and my skin was glowing. Not dull and dry from the two-day car ride.

I threw on my jean shorts and a pink camisole, along with a pair of flip flops.

I walked back to the house. I felt a little uncomfortable, but I knew I could make it through just about anything. The smells coming from the kitchen were certainly an inspiration.

“Come on in,” Roger said from the kitchen. He took his hand off the counter, giving me another one of his smiles, his other hand clutching a coffee mug.

A tiny blonde came into the kitchen, her smile as big as Roger’s. These people were a happy bunch. I looked her over. She was barely five feet tall.

“This is Anna, my wife,” Roger said, sparking Anna’s attention. She took my hand, squeezing it with eagerness.

“You’re beautiful. And I love that name of yours,” she said, not releasing her grip.

I did my best to smile. Mason came in the door, his hands deep in his pockets.

“I made all the fixins,” she said with a southern twang that put my accent to shame. She seemed easygoing and had a warm smile. Like Roger, she carried herself with confidence. “You want to help with the dishes?” she asked the two of us immediately.

She filled Mason’s hands with dishes before he could even object. He raised an eyebrow, following her orders. I took the glasses, making my way into the dining room.

The curtains were drawn, letting the sunshine spill into the old-fashioned room. It was rather charming and sophisticated.

“Noah and Lainey!” she called, catching everyone’s attention. I looked at Wanda. She ignored me and carried on with the conversation she was having with Roger.

“Geez, I’m sorry, Momma,” a girl said, coming in the dining room. She kept the smile on her face as she found her seat at the huge table.

“Where’s your brother?” Anna asked, setting the plates down.

Mason sat down next to me.

“He said he was coming,” she said, looking at us now. She stuck out her hand, giggling. “I’m Lainey.”

I shook her hand, wondering why these people were so pleasant—and touchy.

“Kendall,” I said, forcing another smile.

She pushed her blonde hair from her shoulders looking at Mason now. I wanted to roll my eyes at how infuriatingly cute she was.

“And what’s his name? He doesn’t say much does he?” She furrowed her cute little eyebrows. Mason cleared his throat, extending a hand. She giggled again and shook it.

“Mason,” he told her, smiling his usual smile. I could feel Aunt Wanda’s stare from the other end of the table. I knew she wanted me to keep cool and not get jealous.

“How old are ya’ll?” She poured a glass of ice tea, watching us as if we were the most interesting people she’d ever met.

“I’m twenty and Mason is twenty-two,” I said, taking in her big white teeth. If you asked me, they looked a little too perfect. It wouldn’t surprise me if every boy in town had a thing for her. I was trying to like her, but it was difficult.

“Yeah, I turn twenty-three in a month,” he said.