Presley takes a minute for this information to sink in. “So, you knew who I was when we met at the party and I told you my name?”
Rita gives a solemn nod. “I figured it best to let the situation play itself out. Emma, with her bubbly personality, was instrumental in making that happen.”
Presley feels both betrayed and manipulated. “So, you wrote to my . . . to Renee? What did you say?”
“I explained about my sister’s depression and asked her to please call me to discuss your adoption. I never heard from her. Honestly, I didn’t really expect to.”
“What did you expect?”
“I hoped that one day you would find your way back to us. And you have.”
A moment of awkward silence passes between them. “So, you’re okay with me being here?” Presley asks.
“I’m thrilled with you being here, honey. You’re my niece, my sister’s child.” Rita fingers a lock of Presley’s hair. “And Lucy will be overjoyed. When are you planning to tell her?”
“I have no clue. I wanted to get to know you better first. I figure I’ll know when the time is right.”
“I’ll support you in any way,” Rita says. “If you’d like, you and I can tell Lucy together.”
Presley ponders this idea. “Maybe. Let’s wait a few days to see if an opportunity presents itself first.”
27
Everett
After being released from the hospital, aside from visits to the toilet, Everett’s mom sleeps for thirty-one hours straight. When he wakes her to take her meds, she gulps them down with water and falls right back asleep. The meals he brings to her room on trays go untouched. This is about more than Mary needing rest. She’s slipping into depression. Finally, on Thursday evening, he makes her get out of bed for dinner.
“Rise and shine.” Bursting into her room, he turns on the overhead light and bedside table lamp. “You’ve slept long enough. I made your favorite teriyaki chicken for dinner.” When he jerks back the covers, he gets a whiff of her sour smelling body.
“Go away, Everett.” She pulls the blanket back over her.
“Sorry. No can do. You can’t hide out in your bed forever. Time to face the rest of your life. And I will help you, just like you helped me when I was at my lowest. We’ll take it one day at a time. First off, you need to shower. You stink to high heaven.”
She cries out when he eases her into a sitting position, but he doesn’t let that deter him. “You’re stiff from lying in this bed. You’ll feel better once you get up and move around. Besides, I have some exciting news I want to share with you over dinner.”
He wraps her cast in a plastic bag, securing it with duct tape, and turns on the water in the shower. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” He steps out of the bathroom and waits beside the door, listening in case she calls out for him.
She emerges twenty minutes later wearing a clean nightgown and bathrobe that smells like scented drier sheets. Her curly blonde hair is combed straight and hangs like wet noodles to her shoulders. Her face appears slightly less swollen and the bruises are transitioning from inky purple to green.
Everett settles her on the sofa before going to the kitchen to prepare their plates. When he returns to the living room with their trays, Mary is staring at the urn on the mantel. She doesn’t ask where it came from or what it is.
After bowing their heads and reciting the simple “God Is Great” blessing, Everett devours his teriyaki chicken, while his mom merely picks at hers. “You need to eat, Mom, to get your strength back.”
“These meds make me feel so yucky.” She sets down her fork, abandoning her dinner. “You mentioned you have news. I hope it’s good news.”
“It’s great news.” He smiles at her over a forkful of salad. “I signed a contract yesterday with a major country music label.”
Her mouth drops open. “You did not.”
He nods. “Yes, I did.”
“Oh, Rhett! That’s the most wonderful news ever. I’m so proud of you. If I weren’t so darn sore, I’d hug your neck.” She kisses the tips of her fingers and touches them to his cheek. “You’ve worked so hard. You deserve success.”
“Success isn’t guaranteed, but Wade, my producer, seems confident I’ll do well. I’m going to Nashville, Mom.” He angles his body toward her. “We’re going to Nashville. I want you to come with me.”
Mary’s smile fades. “You’re sweet to think of me, but I can’t leave Atlanta. My life is here.”
“What life, Mom? Dad is gone. I’m moving away.”
She moves her tray from her lap to the cushion beside her. “My friends are here, and my business.”
“When’s the last time you went to lunch or out for drinks with friends.”
“My customers are my friends,” she says, her jaw set.
“Your customers aren’t your friends. They’re rich ladies who tell you about their fancy parties and dysfunctional families while you’re pinning up their clothes.” When her chin quivers, he experiences a stab of guilt for making her cry. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
She wipes at her eyes with her napkin. “I guess there’s some truth to that. But it took me a long time to establish my business. I can’t just start over in Nashville.”
“Why not? If you get in with the right crowd, word will travel fast. Who says you have to continue with alterations? Maybe you should try something new. I’m sure there are plenty of opportunities in Nashville for a gifted seamstress. Maybe Carrie Underwood needs a wardrobe assistant.”
She bites on her lower lip, as though the idea appeals to her. “I’ll think about it.”
When Everett tells her about his deal
