“Where is Maddie anyway?’’ Henry asked.

They both cocked their heads at me. Maddie’s whereabouts was the last question I wanted to discuss. I shrugged.

“Henry’s right, you know.’’ Marty buttered a biscuit. “You’re doing a pretty good job of playing Maddie’s role. You’re acting all judgmental, just like she always does.’’

Henry rose. “I’m going to find a table for my meeting, before you two start throwing cutlery.’’

With barely a nod at our departing cousin, Marty continued in the same vein, telling me how she understood people far better than I did; how I should rely on her judgment about Prudence.

“Maybe you should stick with the critters and let me handle the people,’’ she said.

Henry had announced I was acting like Maddie. But listening to Marty harangue me, I realized both of us were taking on some of our absent sister’s least lovable traits. Maybe Marty suspected something was amiss. Maybe imitating Maddie was a way both of us were dealing with that unvoiced suspicion.

I decided to let my little sister blow off steam. I’d curb my impulse to take offense. As she talked, my gaze wandered around the room. Prudence was at the counter, waiting while Charlene collected her take-out order. Brewing hot tea—an uncommon request in Himmarshee—was taking some time. Prudence seemed to be explaining that hot tea isn’t made by microwaving a glass of sweet iced tea.

Charlene rushed past us to a serving station at the rear of the diner, muttering as she went. “I know I’ve seen a single-size tea bag around here somewhere.’’ She called over her shoulder to Prudence. “Just give me a sec, hon.’’

A good-looking cowboy waited at the register to pay his bill. He tipped his hat to Prudence, and they struck up a conversation. Before long, the two of them were chatting away like old friends. They gazed into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two souls in the place. He said something to make her smile, and she leaned toward him, placing a hand on his broad chest. He put an arm around her. She stepped close. Her tiny but well-developed frame fit neatly against the intimate contours of his body. Surely, they’d just established a record for quick canoodling.

“Look at Prudence now,’’ I hissed, interrupting Marty’s rant. “You can’t tell me that’s not flirting.’’

I was rewarded by seeing Marty’s mouth drop open just after she’d finished the phrase “… your very bad judgment, Mace.’’ She looked at Prudence and then back at me, and then back again at Prudence. The cowboy was nuzzling the English woman’s pale neck. Prudence giggled.

Finally, Marty said the six words I loved above all others.

“I was wrong. You were right.’’ She nodded. “That is definitely flirting.’’

twenty-three

“Well, if that doesn’t beat all.’’ Mama sopped up the last of the gravy on her plate with a chunk of meat loaf.

As soon as Charlene brought our lunch orders, Mama had come running back to our table at Gladys.’ Between bites, Marty and I filled her in on Prudence’s encounter with the cowboy at the counter.

Marty wasn’t completely ready to pass judgment, though.

“We don’t know what’s going through her head, y’all. Everybody grieves differently. You’ve always said that, haven’t you, Mama?’’

“Grieving and making a spectacle of yourself in public with a cowboy you’ve never met are two entirely different things, honey. I can’t get my head around that gal’s behavior.’’

Mama patted her mouth with a napkin, and then whipped out her Apricot Ice. Using the screen on her smart phone as a makeshift mirror, she delivered a smack-smack kiss to her reflection.

“Now.’’ She snapped shut her lipstick. “Enough about Prudence and her impropriety. What do you girls suppose we can do about Maddie?’’

Uh-oh. I didn’t like where this was heading. What would I say if Mama mentioned she was concerned about my older sister’s emotional health? What if she started talking about saving Maddie’s marriage? She took a small sip from her water glass; regarded us with a grave expression.

“We simply cannot let her wear that yellow dress.’’

I shouldn’t have worried. Mama would let nothing dissuade her from her mission: Making sure none of her daughters ever embarrassed her with misguided color choices.

“Henry!’’ Mama called across three tables to where our cousin’s lunch meeting was breaking up. “Come and give your Aunt Rosalee some sugar, honey.’’

Like most everyone else, Henry rushed to do Mama’s bidding. No sooner had he kissed her cheek than she whipped out her phone to show him the picture she’d taken of Maddie’s dress at Fran’s Fancy Frocks and Duds.

“Isn’t that just awful?’’ she asked.

“Looks fine to me. The color’s nice and bright, like a flashing yellow traffic light. And I like those little short sleeves. They look like bells.’’

Mama shook her head, not hearing the answer she wanted from Henry. “That’s another thing. Maddie’s upper arms will look like hams in those sleeves.’’

“Why don’t you leave her alone, Mama? Maddie already bought the dress.’’ I signaled Charlene for some more coffee. “So what if it’s not perfect? Big deal. Let her wear what she wants.’’

Mama narrowed her eyes at me. Before she could start in on my snippiness or my fashion faux pas, Henry headed her off.

“Are you going to bring a pan of your lemon squares to Kenny’s big bash, Aunt Rosalee?”

“Ooooooh, I love those!’’ Marty said.

“It wouldn’t be a party without them.’’ Henry grabbed one of Mama’s hands in both of his; smiled into her eyes. “No one can bake like you do.’’

Smooth, I thought. It was no wonder my charming cousin had a way with a jury, particularly ones with lots of women members.

Mama patted her hair. “Well, of course I will, Henry. I know how you love them.’’

Talk among the three of them turned to detailed descriptions of their favorite party foods, despite the fact we’d just finished lunch. My appetite was definitely off. I was feeling guilty about what I knew—and they didn’t know—about Maddie. I wanted to tell them she was in real trouble, far more trouble than having an ugly party dress. I couldn’t violate her confidence, though.

I was deep in thought when a caress of warm breath and a kiss on my cheek brought me back to my surroundings. I smelled faint aftershave, sandalwood and spices. Carlos!

Turning in my seat, I pulled his face to mine for a real greeting. “Am I ever glad to see you!’’ I planted an unusually public, and long-lasting, smooch on his lips.

Carlos looked surprised, but pleasantly so. He returned my kiss with equal enthusiasm.

“My, my.’’ Marty smiled. “Must be something in the water at Gladys’ today.’’

Henry clapped Carlos on the back. They shook hands.

“Looks like ‘on-again’ is lasting longer than usual with Mace and her boyfriend,’’ Mama said.

I waved my ring hand in front of her face. “My fiancé.’’

Marty and Henry chuckled. Mama smiled her approval.

“Let’s call Reverend Delilah. You two can set the date. It’s about time you made an honest woman out of my daughter, Carlos.’’

“Soon,’’ he said.

“You hear that, honey? He’s ready to be caught! All you have to do is toss the net. And make it snappy. You’re not getting any younger.’’

“I’m not a quart of milk with an expiration date, Mama.’’

“Mace grows more beautiful every day,’’ Carlos said.

Marty coughed. I felt my cheeks flush.

“I am not the one setting up blocked roads, Rosalee. Your daughter doesn’t want to be caught, or else she’d slow down and let me catch her.’’

He was grinning, which made me smile. I thanked my stars Carlos didn’t seem to be embarrassed or put off by Mama’s constant nagging about our wedding. I was about to invite him to sit down, when the cow bells at the door jangled. I got distracted when I saw who was walking in.