A Nashville Collection Read Online Free Page A

should’ve been suspicious when he said, “Only costs fifty bucks. Runs like a top too.”
    Boon tosses the hammer into the toolbox with a clank. “Naw, Dad keeps all our properties rented out and making money.”
    â€œRobin Rae . . .” Daddy calls from the front door. “What’s going on?”
    â€œNoah’s flood,” I answer. Boon laughs.
    â€œLook at all this water.” Daddy strolls into the kitchen. The hem of his blue work pants are stuck into the top of his laced boots.
    Boon gives him the lowdown, and when he says “move out,” Daddy looks at me.
    â€œI just painted your old room and polished the floor. It’d make your momma’s day.” His gray eyes scrunch up when he smiles. Laugh lines run from the corners of his eyes down the sides of his cheeks.
    â€œBy all means, let’s make Momma’s day.” I cross my arms and fall back against the refrigerator.
    â€œOnly temporarily, Robin.”
    â€œTemporarily,” Boon echoes absently, then adds, “I believe Marie Blackwell is getting married in six months, and her place will be open.”
    â€œSix months!”
    â€œMarie’s getting married?” Daddy settles against the sink as if he’s ready for an afternoon of chewing the fat. “I hadn’t heard. Good for her. What’s she pushin’, thirty-five?”
    â€œI reckon so, Mr. McAfee.”
    Great day in the morning . I’m in crisis, and they’re calculating the age of Freedom’s oldest spinster. “She’s thirty-six,” I fire into their conversation. “Boon, are you sure there’re no other rentals?”
    â€œI’m sure, Robin.”
    Defeat. I slap my arms down my sides. “If I’m moving home, let’s get to it.” My eyes well up. I’m gonna miss my little trailer and the stupid washer and dryer.
    Boon Jr. slams his toolbox shut. “Let’s get ’er done.”

3
    Get a root canal.
    Dive into Black Snake Quarry, scraping my toes against the granite wall all the way down.
    Learn to sew.
    Three things I’d rather do than move back to the McAfee homestead, into Momma’s domain.
    Isn’t twenty-five too old to move back into my old room? The first of three kids born into the Dean McAfee family, I was the last to leave. My sister, Eliza, went to Auburn three years ago, and baby brother Steve married his junior high school sweetheart, Dawnie, then went Semper Fi. He’s twenty, overseas, and recently found out he’s going to be a dad.
    When Daddy, Boon, and I pull up, Momma comes out on to the porch, her apron pulled tight around her full figure. The dogs bay at Boon when he says, “Hey, Mrs. McAfee.”
    Momma hushes the dogs while shoving an errant, dark curl from her forehead. “What’s all this?”
    â€œWashing machine flooded the trailer, Mrs. McAfee,” Boon says as he hauls the first load of hanging clothes through the kitchen door.
    â€œUpstairs, last room on the right, Boon,” I call after him, toting in the laundry basket of wet clothes. “Hi, Momma.”
    She holds out her hands for the basket. “Might as well let me.”
    I wrangle open the kitchen screen door and inhale the warm aroma of baking bread. “No thanks, Momma. I can do my own washing.”
    â€œJust offering to help.”
    Hesitating, I gather my courage and turn toward her. “I love you, Momma, but I don’t need you babying me. Don’t get up at three a.m. and put on a pot of coffee or pack me a lunch or call Mr. Chancy to let him know I’m on my way, okay?”
    â€œWill you be eating dinner here this evening, your highness?”
    With a sigh, I let the screen door slam behind me. “Most likely.”
    After dinner, Mo and Curly walk with Ricky and me out to his truck. Though it’s only May, the night is warm and humid. A chuck-will’s-widow calls from somewhere in the dark