Page 25 of The Roads We Follow

Adele briefly meets her sister’s gaze before slipping her phone from her pocket again. “That I hold people accountable to what they sign.”

Raegan’s eyes and tone grow instantly concerned. “What happened? Did they leak something? Is that why you fired them?”

Adele’s eye contact is far more pointed this time when she addresses her youngest sister. “If you’d like to weigh in on how I lead the family business, then you’re more than welcome to attend one of the monthly board meetings you’ve been invited to for the last four years, Raegan. If not, then please kindly keep your judgment to yourself.”

“But I’m not judging, I was just trying to—”

“Why don’t you go take that tour of the Lisa Marie for Mama, okay? We’ll meet everybody back at the bus later.”

Adele turns toward the tour guide with a pasted-on smile. “We’re ready when you are, Charles.”

“Oh! My kids are calling—they’re early!” Hattie glances around the room with panicked eyes as her phone continues to alert her of the incoming video call. She takes a quick step away from the group and answers with a grin. The sound Hattie makes when their faces come into view on the handheld screen is half sob, half laugh.

“Mom! Mom!” Her son and daughter cheer. “Can you see us?”

“Yes, yes. Hi, Annabelle! Hi, Aiden! Hey, wait a minute, why do you both look so grown up already? I thought we made a deal. No growing up this summer!” Hattie’s teasing tone resounds inside the parlor, and with a quick glance to my left, I confirm I’m not the only one captivated by her animated conversation. Hattie might struggle with who she is as an unattached single adult, but she certainly knows who she is within this dymanic duo.

Raegan catches my eye, and we exchange smiles as the banter between Hattie and her kids continues.

“Would the two of you like to know whereIam?” Hattie’s voice grows more dramatic, and both kids stop talking immediately. “This is Charles. He’s our tour guide today at a special place called Graceland—where Elvis Presley used to live. He’s offered to let me show you some really fancy old cars in the automotive museum.”

The kids begin to talk over each other, and I can no longer makeout what they are saying, other than that there’s obviously a lot of excitement, especially from Aiden.

Like the trooper Charles has shown himself to be since our crew first arrived, he escorts Hattie—and by default, her children—from the room and toward the promised cars. Adele and Luella follow suit only a few seconds later, leaving Raegan and I alone on the main floor of a mansion that if sold could put a massive dent in world hunger.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.” I state the obvious and hold up the brochure, which pinpoints the location of the Lisa Marie on the jetway. “Here’s hoping the walking outside part is shorter than this looks.”

“Please don’t feel obligated to join me.”

“If that’s not your subtle way of uninviting me, then I’d like to go. I can’t remember the last time I toured a dead celebrity’s private jet. Oh, wait, yes I can. It was never.”

She laughs obligingly. “I hear company is always better when touring a private jet. Let’s go.”

When I pull the front door open, I immediately stifle a groan from the hellish wall of misery that consumes us as we step into the open air.

I used to think the idea of frying an egg on a sidewalk was a myth; but now it feels as if I could fry an egg on every surface of my body in direct view of the sun. And then there’s the issue of the humidity. How do people breathe in this part of the country without worrying about aspirating? I tug at the neckline of my blue polo, wishing there was a slab of ice I could pay to lie on for an hour or two.

“You doing okay?” Raegan glances at me, but I’m already looking at her. She’s not even broken out in a sweat, and we’ve been walking on this hot black tar for more than five minutes.

“How do you look so normal right now?”

“If that’s how you compliment women up north, you should really work on that.”

My brain is quickly overheating. “No, I mean, how do you looklike you could endure several more miles in this sauna and think nothing of it?”

She shrugs. “I’m acclimated. I’ve grown up in this all my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

She rolls her eyes as we approach the base of the jetway steps. “Just stop focusing on it so much. It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“You’re right, it’s far worse. The only reason I’m still walking is because my desire for air conditioning is weaker than my pride. Barely.”

When we hike the steps up to the jet and enter the cabin of the Lisa Marie, I’m sure I’ve never been more thankful for the cool blast of air that greets us from the sealed-off cockpit area and saves me from making an even bigger fool of myself.

“See? You made it,” Raegan offers. “Good job.”

I wipe the river of sweat flowing from my temples with the hem of my shirt. “Yay me.”

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