Page 56 of Here With You

They all followed with an “Amen,” but no one took a bite until May did. It was like she was the queen; no one ate until she did, and they would be finished when she was.

She took a nibble and raised her hand. “I'm going to say a few things, and then I'm heading to bed. I expect the food to get eaten and the kitchen cleaned.”

“I don't clean kitchens,” Darryl said.

“You do tonight,” May said. Though her voice was weak, the message was strong. She had things to say and didn't want to waste time. “Travis Jackson was here to change my will. As you know, I'm dying. With the rate things are going, it will come quickly. Thankfully, I'm not in any pain. That seems to be the way with some lung cancers. They don't call it the silent killer for nothing.” She took in several wheezy breaths and continued. “What I have to say is the law. Anyone who argues will get themselves written out of the will. Do you understand?”

They all nodded except for Darryl, whose face was redder than a freshly-fired branding iron.

“This property has been in the family since Abel McClintock homesteaded it in the early 1800s. The only wish your father left behind was that it would remain in the family. I can give him that, and so can you. The new will splits the property into thirds with Darryl, Miles, and Cormac getting even shares.”

Darryl choked. “Cormac gets the same share that I do? And Miles when he hasn't been here?”

May gave him a stink eye so powerful he shifted back. “Miles was gone because your father made a mistake. If I split it in half between my sons, Cormac would likely get nothing because you're selfish that way. If you don't want your share, then you can give it or sell it to a McClintock, and the only three around with ties to one another are sitting at this table.” She took another nibble of corn casserole and pushed her plate aside. “Emmaline, you grab that cookbook over there and take it home with you. I know you love that cornbread as much as Miles, and I hope with all my heart that you get to make it for him for years to come.”

Emmaline stood and got the cookbook and held it to her heart. Looking at her, one would think she'd been given a gold bar.

“Cormac, help your gran to her bed. I'm tired.” She stood and wobbled on weak legs. “Can you do me a favor? Can you all just get along until I die?” She took Cormac's arm and left the room.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Each time he glanced at Darryl, he felt the prick of the daggers from his brother's eyes.

As May asked, they finished their meal and cleaned the kitchen. On the drive home, Emmaline cuddled into his side. “It's so sad to see her so frail. How much time do you think she has left?”

He'd seen it all before and knew the answer was less than anyone could imagine.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

The next few days went by quickly, but that was because they were always on the run. If they weren’t bringing breakfast to May, they were bringing her dinner. In between, they knocked off all the items on her list in case the critic showed up.

Em was happy that Darryl and Miles had agreed to ignore their differences for now. She hid all her shoes at night and invited Miles into her bed. In the morning, she always found Ollie with a shoe she knew she’d secured.

Mrs. Blackthorne remained like her name implied, a thorn in Em’s side. Ever since the seagull incident, she’d required extra. Extra towels. Extra soap. Extra housekeeping services. Extra patience. She looked at Em with disdain and Miles like he’d saved her from a great white shark. Thankfully they were checking out this morning, and Em could be done with her for good.

Speak of the devil, Mrs. Blackthorne walked into the lobby and headed straight for Em. “I wanted to let you know that we enjoyed The Kessler. While I see you are merging the properties, I’d like to say that The Brown staff could learn something from Margot. She’s adorable and friendly, whereas The Brown staff are uptight. Then there’s that manager, Miles. He’s just the bee’s knees all the way around.” She pointed her finger. “You can’t tell I nearly lost it to a seagull bite.” She sighed like a love-struck teen. “That man is a keeper. I’d consider trading Harold for him, but traveling the world is a perk of Harold’s job.”

Em wanted to roll her eyes right after she choked the woman to death, but that wouldn’t look good on a review, so she smiled.

“Thank you for staying at The Kessler. Maybe you’ll try The Brown next year.”

Mrs. Blackthorne shook her head. “No, we rarely stay anywhere twice. There are so many places to see.”

“Yes, you’re right. Please tell Mr. Blackthorne thank you and wish the girls a good week from us.”

“Will do.” She turned and left, and Miles walked in.

“Bet you’re happy.”

“That woman was a pain in my patootie. Can you believe she told me the staff at The Brown were uptight, and we should take a lesson from Margot’s friendly personality?”

“She told you that?”

“Yes, and she said you were the bee’s knees. She turned that barely-there break to her skin into a near amputation and nearly swooned when she spoke of how you mended her. She even spoke of trading Harold for you, but apparently, she gets to travel a lot because of his job.” Her jaw went slack. “Oh no.” She pulled out her phone and googled Harold Blackthorne, travel critic, but didn’t get a hit. She scrolled down and came across an H. Thorne, and her heart stilled. “Oh my God. You were almost right.” Miles had said he thought Diane Blackthorne was the critic, but she wasn’t. “It was him.”

Miles laughed. “You have to watch out for those quiet ones.”

“I wonder if he knew how much his wife annoyed me.” She turned toward the door, ready to bolt after Diane to see if there was anything she could offer her to make sure she was leaving on a positive note.

“I’m sure he did.”

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