Page 72 of Lemon Crush

Kingston wanted to film it? This was the first I’d heard of it.

Bernie’s grin was devilish. “Gene’s going to be impossible to live with now. He’ll start thinking he’s the chosen one. The Luke Skywalker of Lemons.”

I chuckled. “Lemons in Space, starring Ham Never-Solo.”

We were still laughing at that when Rick joined us with his signature scowl. “Coming?”

I followed the three of them into my sister’s house. The living room was spotless and elegant and not covered in dog hair, which meant the cleaning service must have shown up before we did. Morgan had great taste in artwork and furniture, but that was where her forays into domestic goddessing ended. At this point in her life, she refused to clean and she barely cooked.

Secretly, I always wondered if her family potlucks were her way to get out of frozen dinners or her Taco Tuesday offering, which was her go-to meal, no matter what day of the week it landed on.

She’d purchased a table precisely for these dinners. A long, beautiful rustic piece that looked like it would be at home in a garden in Tuscany. It was my favorite piece of furniture in her house. It felt welcoming. Warm. The whole room did. It was almost bigger than the living room, connected as it was to the open kitchen. The walls were tastefully decorated with artistic friends-and-family pics. One of Gene’s family. One of Morgan’s father and our mother. The wedding. Morgan and me as children. The Hudsons made several appearances, but the third wall—the travel wall—was by far the most colorful and impressive.

It was funny that the one Retta who’d wanted to put down roots had seen more of the world than the other two combined. Saving for vacations versus life on the road. A pantsing-versus-plotting debate for the ages.

I saw Morgan walking swiftly from the living room to the kitchen. “I’m feeding the dogs and then we can eat,” she said, looking me over and giving me a quick hug. “You look good, August.”

She looked frazzled and tired, but still Morgan. “You too.”

The rest of the room was currently crowded with people andconversations, so I snuck in with my bag and searched for the space to set it down.

“Place your offerings on the altar,” Phoebe joked, holding her bulging stomach with one hand and gesturing to the takeout-laden table with the other. “I can’t eat any of it, but I can live vicariously.”

“Are you supposed to be out of bed, young lady?” I asked, noticing as I always did, that she was a softer version of her mother. Her dark hair bounced at her shoulders instead of being confined to a braid that arrowed to her waist. And her style was more cotton casual than leather troublemaker, but they had the same smile. The same wide streak of stubborn with a helping of something to prove.

“I’m not on bed rest, just voluntarily taking it easy. But I wasn’t about to miss the cruise recap.” When Wade quietly set a cushion on the chair behind her, she lowered herself onto the seat. “Thank you. Sit next to me, Auntie. I need bar gossip.”

Wade met my gaze over her head, his brimming with a heat and frustration that I understood. I’d wanted to touch him since I got here, but that would be a bad idea. This dinner was already going to be uncomfortable enough as it was. Though not for the usual reasons, I thought as Bernie took the empty seat on my other side and sent me a conspiratorial grin.

At first, everyone was too busy passing takeout containers around and listening as Gene, with numerous asides from Morgan, described their grand adventure at sea. They joked about sunburns in unfortunate places, discussed the friends they’d made at one of the ship’s bars and passed around phones filled with pictures that were all stunning enough to go on their wall. I wasn’t sure how she was going to pick one.

I could feel Morgan glancing over at me whenever I wasn’t looking. While they were repeating part of their last story for Lucy, who’d had to duck into the bathroom, I told Phoebe aboutmy experience with one of her regulars who never bought the same beer twice.

“He always tips in scratch-offs too,” she said with an amused grin. “He says it’s because hope is better than certainty.”

“I might agree with him if I ever won anything.”

“What are you two talking about over there?” Morgan asked suddenly, turning to study us from the other side of the table.

I sat up a little straighter, suddenly wishing I’d told her this last revelation before coming tonight. “We’re talking about beer.”

“Beer?”

“She’s giving me a few bartending tips. I’m covering her two evening shifts at the icehouse until the baby comes or they find someone better.”

Their surprise was a palpable thing, but Gene recovered first. “That’s great news. Hudson’s is Rick’s favorite hangout lately. I’ll have to visit more often if I can get a family discount now.”

“No family discounts,” Phoebe said cheekily. “Uncle Wade might fall for that at the garage, but I’m not going to.”

“You’re working at the icehouse too?” Morgan asked, the words quiet but sharp as a razor. “When did this happen?”

“After the storm.” Bernie casually reached for a slider and a fried chicken leg to add to her plate. “We had no staff, so I talked her into helping out one day, and the customers liked her so much I begged her to take Phoebe’s shifts so I wouldn’t have to.”

“My mother is a very bad server,” Phoebe teased, sotto voce.

Bernie’s smile was sweet like a shark’s. “Because people who expect me toservethem get on my nerves.”

“August hates waitressing too,” Morgan said flatly. “And it’s a lot of time on your feet. Are you sure you’re ready for that much activity?”

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