Page 11 of Chasin' Cole

Family dinners are far and few between in the Young-Linton world. Mama's cookin' is to die for, but her choice in guests is always iffy.

When Lacey joined the family, Mama spent more time plottin' than she did tryin' to get to know the woman Brock fell madly in love with. Livin' with her after Brock brought Lacey home was an experience I won't soon forget. Naturally, Mama's an unhappy person. But with Lacey around, she became almost unbearable.

Mama and her group of knittin' friends would gather 'round the kitchen table and make plans to rid Lacey from Brock's life forever. Back then, Mama was convinced Emmeline was really Brock's daughter. Plot twist: Emmeline wasn't. Those women would sit there with their sewin' machines, though, runnin' Lacey's name through the mud and the muck. She never did anythin' wrong. Mama and her friends just didn't care for her. If they had given her a chance, maybe they would have gotten to know her before tryin' to destory her life.

That's where Kenzie came in. Kenzie and Brock were high school sweethearts. On the outside, everythin' appeared perfectfor years. Just two kids madly in love. But underneath all that smilin', was a relationship littered with lies, deceit and turmoil. Kenzie would have fit right into Mama's sewin' group. She likes all that plottin', knittin' and destroyin' stuff. What Mama didn't know, though, was that Kenzie had already destroyed her marriage and her son. And Kenzie pinned it all on Brock's best friend, Cole.

Long story short, Emmeline was really Rowdy's--the man I thought was my dad for the first 17 years of my life. Lacey and Brock had a rough patch, but they worked it all out. Cole ran away. I'm not sure he's ever stopped runnin'.

"Can you set the table, please?" Mama shoves plates into my hand. "Brock, Lacey and Annabeth will be here any minute."

"Are those the only people you invited?" I raise a judgmental eyebrow.

Mama waves me off. "Just the family tonight."

She didn't invite anyone else. For a change, Mama did somethin' right. I'll make sure to mark it on the calendar.

When Lacey used to come over, Mama made sure to invite Kenzie and Emmeline. I always felt bad for my sister-in-law. She'd sit there, miserable, just like Mama wanted. But after Lacey would leave with Brock, Mama would slam doors and throw a fit. I never understood. Brock was happy for the first time in his life. Mama not wantin' to celebrate his joy was selfish and cruel. Then again, I sometimes wonder if Mama's even capable of lovin' anyone but herself.

"The door, Rose!" Mama hollers from the kitchen. "They're here!"

"I'm still settin' the table," I yell back. "You get it."

"I'll get it," Howard announces from the hallway. How in the world that man puts up with Mama is beyond me. He has the patience of Moses wanderin' the desert.

Annabeth races through the house, hollerin' my name.

"In here!" I answer her rambunctious call.

"Look what Daddy got me!" she screeches as she stops in front of me. "Two colorin' books. One for me, and one for you."

I set the last plate down before takin' a book from my niece.

"Your daddy has good taste," I tell her as I flip through pages of horses.

"Wanna color after dinner?"

"I would love to," I smile.

Annabeth rips the colorin' book from my hand and bounces across the way to the kitchen. Mama bends down and kisses her nose. Mama may not be Lacey's biggest fan, but she sure loves the granddaughter she gave her.

"Hey!" Lacey greets me with a hug. Brock's not far behind her. He kisses the top of my head before settin' a basket of warm rolls on the counter.

"Did you make these from scratch?" Mama asks.

Brock forces a smile. "If by driving down to the grocery store, pickin' them up and then heating them in the oven, yes, they were made my scratch."

Mamatskshim. "Lacey told me she got a roll recipe from a lady at church. I was just wonderin' if this was it."

"I didn't have time to try out the recipe today," Lacey informs Mama. "Della Ray needed help with defeathering a chicken."

Mama chuckles. "Della Ray and those damn chickens."

"Is dinner ready?" Annabeth asks.

"We're in the south, dear," Mama raises her eyebrows. "We call it supper."

Brock snakes his arms around Lacey's waist and rests his head on her shoulder. "We call it dinner at our house."

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