“With a lot of work,” Mama B reminded her.
“But eventually, we realized we’re stronger together, working toward the same goals, than we ever would have been apart,” Blaire explained. “And then I met Morris, and here we are.”
“We’re not perfect. But we’re damn hard workers, Maggie. And what we’re trying to say is like recognizes like,” Mama B told her. “So whatever you are to our son, you’re someone special to us.”
Maggie swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She missed her mother so acutely in the moment that she felt actual, physical pain.
“You’re an incredible young woman,” Blaire said, taking her other hand. “What you’re doing for the small businesses in this town when they so desperately need it. What you’re doing by giving that sweet boy a place to stay and a steady paycheck. You’re doing beautiful, good things.”
Maggie blinked back tears that welled up without warning. “Thank you.” She barely managed to get the words out.
“Y’all need to stop telling people this story,” Nirina complained.
“We own our vulnerabilities and our truths,” Blaire reminded Nirina. It had the ring of a family motto.
“And we learn to love ourselves no matter what,” Mama B said, giving Maggie’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Y’all aren’t terrifying my girl, are you?” Silas called from the open window.
“Are those dishes done yet?” Mama B yelled back.
“No, ma’am,” he answered. Maggie could hear the affection in his tone and wondered if he knew how very lucky he was.
28
Silas punched the button on the air compressor, bringing it to life. Kevin barked like a dog possessed. Over the whine of the compressor and rabid barking, he heard a car pull up the drive. Seconds later, Maggie hopped out of Dean’s Mini Cooper and eyed him, hands on hips.
“What is that?” she called.
“An air compressor,” he said innocently.
Shaking her head, she popped the hatch and started unloading shopping bags. The dog jogged off the porch to investigate. She gave Kevin a smooch on the head and a good scruffing before climbing the porch steps with the first load of bags.
“I know what an air compressor is. What the hell is that?” she asked, pointing at the lump of vinyl slowly taking shape.
Silas rose to greet her, and since her hands were full, he kissed her on the mouth before opening the screen door for her. “That’s an inflatable movie screen.”
Her lips quirked. “Seriously?”
“Darlin’， I’m a man.”
“I’ve been made aware,” she said dryly.
“As a man, it’s my duty to ensure that all entertainment is viewed on the appropriate-size screen.”
“I got a TV. Sixty inches of screen,” she argued. “We just have to hang it before the episode airs tonight.”
“Already hung,” he said, shooing his dog away from the shopping bags. “Got it mounted on the wall, and then we menfolk took a vote. Cody and Dean agreed. If you’re having the crews over for an impromptu viewing, we might as well make it a party.”
“Ugh. Fine. Boys are weird. I need to unload this stuff before Kevin starts snacking.”
“Any more bags in the car?” he called after her.
“A few.”
A few bags turned out to be twelve more canvas totes stuffed to the hilt with not just the burgers and hot dogs Maggie had gone shopping for, but also deli meat, bread, pastas, produce, beef jerky, and four boxes of cereal.
He wasn’t the only one who’d gone overboard. After the groceries were unloaded, she enlisted him to help her lug two shelving units up from the basement to use as a makeshift pantry in the still-empty kitchen.
He’d just stepped outside to set up the food tables when Dean and Cody arrived in Maggie’s truck with a big, manly grill strapped down in the bed. Crammed in with the grill were two oversize armchairs wrapped in plastic. Jim’s van pulled in behind them, hauling a trailer with a matching couch.
Maggie Nichols was nesting.
Silas ambled over, thumbs in his pockets.
“Whenever you’re done flashing that shit-eating grin around, you can help us unload,” Dean joked.
Silas carefully wiped said shit-eating grin from his face. “Looks like you gentlemen have been busy,” he observed.
“Where do we start?” Cody asked, eyeing their haul.
“The grill,” answered the men.
Less than two hours later, the beer was cold, the grill was fired up, and there were theater-like rows of camp chairs in the front yard facing the movie screen. Bluegrass music poured forth from wireless speakers, and nearly two dozen men and women who’d put in a good day’s work ate, drank, and shot the shit with enthusiasm.