Tracking Tilly by Janice Thompson

Author:Janice Thompson [Thompson, Janice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781636099095
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2024-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

I passed the paperwork off to my brother, who gave it a close look before speaking.

“This is some sort of contract between the two of them,” he said as he glanced up from the pages.

“Right.” I took it back and looked over the details of it, trying to make sense of it. “Did you realize Papaw had a business deal with Clayton once upon a time?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar. I was really young when everyone was talking about it. Or, arguing about it, as the case were.”

Jake and I talked about the document at length but finally decided to show it to Dad and Bessie Mae. They would know best. A short while later we made our way to the house. We walked inside to find the place eerily quiet and still. I wasn’t sure where my parents had gone, but Bessie was probably catching a little catnap in her room. That wouldn’t be unusual at this time of day.

Jake headed to the fridge to grab a drink, and I tiptoed down the hall to her large converted bedroom.

The soft creak of the door hinges announced my entrance into Bessie Mae’s domain. The air in her room was thick with the warm scent of tea rose, an outdated fragrance that had become synonymous with my aunt.

The garage, once home to dusty tools and the lingering scent of motor oil, had been transformed into a cozy haven, perfect for her. The quilt on the bed always made me smile. She’d stitched it herself, by hand, years ago and wouldn’t think of swapping it out with something more modern. Why mess with perfection?

I had to smile when I saw her porcelain dolls on the bed, propped up against the pillows. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought about how special they must be to her.

My gaze swept the room, which was adorned with John Wayne memorabilia—posters, framed photos, and even a life-sized cutout of the Duke himself, watching over the space. The woman was pretty passionate about her guy.

I glanced at the far corner, where I caught my aunt catnapping in her favorite recliner, an ’80s-themed relic in a lovely shade of country blue. Should I wake her or leave her be? I decided to ease my way out of the room so as not to disturb her.

She must’ve heard me because she stirred in the chair and let out a little grunt, followed by a, “Well, hey, sweetie. Didn’t see you there.”

“Hey, Aunt Bessie Mae,” I responded quietly. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Bessie yawned and gestured for me to join her. I took a seat on the quilt chest at the foot of her bed.

“I was just catching a little rest before starting dinner.” She rubbed at the back of her neck. “But I really need to invest in a neck pillow.”

“You have one, remember?” I walked to the closet and peered inside. Every square inch of this space was filled with her stuff, most of which dated back to long before my birth.

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