“In Tennessee. And he don’t get friendly with Yankees.”

Mitch held his hand up. “Everybody stop.” He looked at the ADA. “So now what?”

“What do you mean ‘now what’? There’s nothing now. It’s over.”

“Really?” Mitch glanced at Sissy and shrugged. “That’s kind of a letdown.”

“You know what I find truly fascinating?” Jen rested back against the table, her arms crossed over her chest. She seemed to have calmed down suddenly, even had a smile on her face, but Sissy didn’t buy it for a second. The woman was pissed off. “I find the fact that the bounty on your head is already gone fascinating.”

“Yeah, but with O’Farrell—”

“And it’s actually rumored that you’re untouchable.”

Mitch looked like he wanted to loosen that tie again. “Sorry?”

“In fact, it’s rumored—and, mind you, I’m just repeating what I’ve heard—but I have heard it rumored that if you’re killed or hurt or even touched in any way, whoever did it will be killed in retaliation.”

“Jen—”

“No. Wait. It gets better. Apparently, this is all coming from Pete O’Farrell. Not Petey. He’s dead. But his son, who you would think would still want you dead, if simply on principle. But no, he seems to want you alive and well for years to come.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, and people in your old neighborhood are afraid to walk past your mother’s house.”

“Jen, I am really—”

“No, no. Let us not speak of it.” The angry cat pushed herself off the table and walked around it, picking up the file and putting the pictures back. “It is funny, though. How one can get so close to their goal, only to have it snatched from them.” She shoved the file into her briefcase.

“All that work. All that effort. Gone.” Both her hands on the briefcase handle, she stood in front of Mitch, looking up at him. “So tell me, Detective, are you planning to stay on the Force?”

Mitch cleared his throat. “No. I was going to resign at the end of the trial.”

“Oh…well, isn’t that lucky? Now you can go and do it today. Everything seems to be falling into place for you. Your life is just turning out so well.” She spit out the last part of that sentence between her teeth before she walked out of the room.

Mitch looked down at Sissy. “Tense girl.”

“Is she coming back?”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

After several minutes of awkward silence, Sissy asked, “What do you want to do now?”

“Well, I…” Mitch shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Say it.”

“It’ll just annoy you.”

“Just say it, Mitch.”

“Okay. I’m hungry.”

“Mitchell.”

“You asked. I’m hungry.” His grin was wide and adorable. “Feed me.”

Mitch stared up at his mother. “If I find out you’re lying to me—ooh! Stew.”

He dug into the bowl of stew Gwen put in front of him.

“I’m not lying. I didn’t have anything to do with O’Farrell buying it.”

Mitch let out a breath. “Okay. Good.”

“See, I was gonna wait until you testified first…then I was going to have him killed. So you could feel like you’ve accomplished something. Then Uncle Joey was—”

Mitch held his hand up. “Please don’t say another word.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. No more. And it will never be discussed, ever again. Right, Ma?”

“If you’re gonna be that way—fine. Now would you like something to eat, baby-girl?”

Sissy blinked at his mother’s abrupt change of conversation. “No thanks, Miss O’Neill.”

“Roxy, baby-girl. Roxy.”

“Just do what I’m telling ya, Ma. Okay?” Mitch glanced around the table and then at his sister. “Bread?”

Sissy threw up her hands. “You ate two hours ago.”

“Why do you insist on having this discussion every time?”

“Because I keep hoping something will change…preferably you.”

“I’m not changing. I like how I am. I’m perfect.”

“You’re delusional is what you are.”

“You two”—his mother grabbed his cheeks with her left hand and Sissy’s with her right, then she squeezed until their lips pursed out and it kind of hurt—“just so fuckin’ cute!”

“Ma!”

Janie Mae sewed her section of the quilt while three of her sisters worked on theirs. The fourth sister, Darla, was on the phone in the main part of their pie store.

“This is gonna be beautiful when we’re done, Janie Mae.” Francine examined the nearly finished quilt.

They’d been working on it a couple of times a month for the last few months. Janie knew it would be for Sissy and Mitch. She knew long before Sissy or Mitch did. The two of them—thick as planks.

“I think so. I love these colors. But I’ll have one of you give it to Sissy. If I give it to her, she’ll automatically hate it.”

Roberta shook her head. “You two are pathetic.”

“I wasn’t the one who got in a fistfight with Momma at Uncle Wayne’s funeral.”