Chapter 6

Dane didn’t want to talk about Rachel anymore. He wanted to snuggle up to Susie on that fluffy sofa and use his mouth for other things.

When she’d walked into the kitchen wearing that shirt that matched her eyes, he could see their life together. They’d have a huge Thanksgiving dinner at this table surrounded by their family and friends. It was scary to finally meet his destiny, but he wanted that life … a life with her.

“So it’s okay if I do this?” He leaned down and kissed her again. His heart was beating so fast his body practically vibrated with anticipation.

He couldn’t wait to tell Rachel that he’d finally met someone. She’d been in a happy relationship for the last six years. No one in Hollywood—or pretty much the world—knew it, but Rachel was gay. While same-sex marriage was legal and Hollywood was supposed to embrace all sorts of lifestyles, having America’s rom-com sweetheart be a lesbian wasn’t okay. The studio had told her that years ago. He was her cover.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Uncle Milton burst through the kitchen door. “This is a kitchen, for God’s sake, not the Dairy Queen parking lot. Didn’t your mommas raise you better?”

“Didn’t your momma teach you to knock?” Susie leaned back and glared at her great-uncle. “Leave, old man … now.”

“I ain’t leaving.” He pointed a gnarled finger at her. “I’ll tell you something else. I’m calling your momma. I know she and your daddy didn’t raise you to be loose.”

“Go right ahead. Snitches get stitches.” She rolled her neck like she was getting ready for a fight. “If you call my parents, I’ll be forced to tell them what really happened to Grandma Kay’s roses.” She folded her arms. “Are you ready to explain that you killed your mother’s prized roses because you needed the spring water that fed them for your still?”

“You’re bluffing.” Uncle Milton started a stare-down contest.

Susie stared right back.

Uncle Milton looked away first.

Susie crossed her arms. “That’s what I thought. And I believe the making of moonshine in the state of Texas is illegal.” She pulled her smartphone out of her back pocket. “I have some wonderful photos of you digging up the roses to make room for your still.” She pulled up the pictures and handed her phone to Milton. “See?”

“How’d you get these?” He tried to scroll through the pictures, but he just ended up zooming in and out on the same one.

“Think of me as God. I’m everywhere and I see everything.” It was clear she knew she had him, and by the look on his face, he knew it too.

Uncle Milton weighed his options and then smiled. “I didn’t see nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.” She shook her head. “You’re losing your game, old man. I didn’t even have to pull out the big guns.”

Dane smiled down at her. “Well played.”

Susie would make one hell of a Hollywood agent. She had great bargaining skills and knew when and where to apply pressure. On second thought, he really didn’t want her kind soul to be tainted by the entertainment industry.

Uncle Milton looked everywhere but at Susie. “You mentioned the big guns. What else do you think you have on me?”

She sent him a yeah-right look. “Like I would tell you.”

“That’s my girl.” The old man smiled broadly. “Love to hate you.”

“Hate to love you.” Susie blew him a kiss.

Were all families like this? It had only been his mom and him. He’d never met his grandparents. He didn’t even know if they were alive. His mother had left home at seventeen and never looked back. She’d had him a year later, and that was all the family she claimed that she needed. It probably had never occurred to her that he might need more.

“I have that casserole. It’s out in my truck. Let me go get it.” He headed back out the kitchen door and returned a minute later.

“You drove your truck over?” Susie arched an eyebrow.

Uncle Milton’s eyes went wide. “I meant that I drove my tractor over.”

He was a terrible liar.

Susie stared him down.

Milton shuffled from one foot to the other and wouldn’t make eye contact.

Susie glared up at him.

“What? I’m old. I get forgetful.” He set the casserole down on the kitchen table.

“I’m missing something.” Dane looked at Susie and then at Milton and back to Susie.

“He had a little accident in his truck—”

“It wasn’t an accident. I pulled over to make a call—”

“You don’t have a cell phone.” Susie rolled her eyes. “He drove into a ditch and almost rolled his truck. I took his keys away. I thought I’d gotten all of the copies.” She glared at him. “Looks like I missed one.”

“Last time I checked, America was Land of the Free. It’s a sad day when a man has to hot-wire his own truck.” Milton pulled the aluminum foil off of the casserole.

“You know how to hot-wire a car? That’s awesome. Will you teach me?” Dane clamped a hand over his mouth. Probably not the best time to ask.

Susie rolled her eyes up to meet Dane’s. “Don’t encourage him.”

“See? Even the giant-belt-buckle kid understands a man’s right to drive his own truck.” He pointed to Dane. “I called my friend Nita this morning and she The Googled you.”

The Googled? Dane mashed his lips together to keep from smiling. “What did she find?”

“You’re in movies and your momma seems like a handful. And …” He gave this next part lots of scandalous buildup. “You have a girlfriend.”

Susie held up her hand. “I know about her.”

“And you was still kissing him in your kitchen?” The old man was all righteous indignation.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice the subject change? You’re not supposed to be driving. What if you get hurt or hurt someone else?”

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive.” The old man was losing his fight and seemed to shrink in stature.

“You’ve been driving longer than everyone’s been alive. You’re a thousand years old. You can’t see far away or close up and you refuse to wear your glasses. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She patted the seat next to her for him to sit down. “If you kill someone and go to jail, who will I throw fireworks at on July 4?”

He thought about it for a moment. “And you’d have to deep fry your own turkey on Thanksgiving. You already burned down one barn. I can’t have you burn down the new one.” He sat down next to her.

“Not my fault. You were the one who threw water on a grease fire.” She held her palms up like that wasn’t the point. “I do all of the driving from now on.”

“Okay, but I ain’t letting you grocery shop without me. Last time, you bought me bran cereal instead of Cap’n Crunch. My body ain’t built for bran.” He leaned forward so he could make eye contact with Dane. “She’s trying to kill me with healthy food. She thinks I don’t know, but I do.”

“Are all families like the two of you?” Dane had always been interested in other people’s family dynamics.

Susie shared a look with her uncle and then shrugged. “Probably. All of my friend’s families are crazy in their own way. Doesn’t your family have some quirks?”

“I don’t really have a family. It’s just my mom and me.” He didn’t like talking about his mother. It was too personal. He’d spent his childhood being the adult, and according to his therapist, he resented it.

“Well, that’s just damn sad.” Milton reached around Susie and clapped Dane on the shoulder. “Every family needs a loco cousin or two.”

Susie nodded. “Like cousin Alfie. He’s definitely our most unusual cousin.”

Dane was pretty sure cousin Alfie had nothing on Susie and her great-uncle.

“What’s special about cousin Alfie?” Since two of the oddest—but in a nice way—people he’d ever met thought Alfie was unusual, he must really be out there.

“He’s one of them …” Milton dropped his hand and turned to Susie. “What do you call them people who collect things?”

“Hoarders. He hoards rocks.” Susie readjusted the ice pack on her foot.

“Rocks? You mean like gemstones?” He knew rockhounding was a thing, but he’d never heard of rock hoarding.

“No, like rocks from the front yard. Hardened lumps of silica and calcium carbonate.” Susie sipped her coffee. “You know, pebbles and boulders and such.”

Milton sighed and shook his head. “That boy stole some of my favorite rocks.” He looked at Dane. “If there’s any rocks you like having in your yard, don’t invite him over for dinner. That man can dig up a rock faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“What does he do with all of these rocks?” He guessed it was better than hoarding dead animals, like one lady he’d seen on TV had done. She’d had a collection of roadkill racoons in her freezer.

“He piles them up inside his house.” Milton got up from the table and went to the coffee maker. He popped a K-Cup in and set a mug in place to catch the coffee stream. “Eventually we convinced him to move to New Mexico. We told him they had better rocks. It was the only way to save our property.”

“One time, he overnighted me a giant box. He called to ask me to sell them for him on eBay because they were dinosaur bones. When I opened the box, guess what? They were just rocks. I know bones.” Susie thumbed her chest. “Undergrad degree in anthropology right here.”

“What did you do with the rocks?” Cousin Alfie sounded like a handful, but Dane couldn’t help wishing that his family consisted of more than just him and his black sheep mother. He would have liked to have had a cousin—even one who had a thing for rocks.

“I told him that I couldn’t sell them unless he had the proper paperwork verifying their authenticity because trafficking in illegal dinosaur bones came with a minimum ten-year-per-bone jail sentence.” Susie took another sip of her coffee.

“Is it illegal to sell undocumented dinosaur bones?” Every minute he spent with Susie was more fun than the last.

She shrugged. “Who knows? If it’s not, it should be.”

“I’m sorry to say this about my own kin, but that boy’s stupid. His momma must have dropped him on his head one too many times.” Milton sipped his own coffee. “Need me to frost them cinnamon rolls?”

“Sure.” Susie made as if to get up and then seemed to remember she couldn’t walk. “Could you also grab some plates, forks, knives, and napkins?”

“I’ll get those.” Dane stood and looked around for the obvious place where those things would be kept.

Milton nodded to the drawer in the island. “Silverware’s in there, and the plates are in the cabinet behind me.”

Dane grabbed everything and laid out three place settings on the table.

“Somebody knows how to set a table.” Susie nodded approvingly.

“Somebody watches a whole lot of Food Network.” He liked the approval she gave him. He hated to admit it, but he was a people pleaser, like most actors. Give him a little praise and he was Silly Putty.

“Do you like to cook?” Susie smiled at him as he finished setting out the dishes. She sounded genuinely interested in his life.

“No, but I love to watch other people cook in the hopes that someday, I’ll learn how to boil an egg.” Now she knew another one of his secrets: he couldn’t cook.

“Cooking’s easy. Every man should know how to cook.” Using pot holders, Milton placed the cinnamon rolls in the middle of the table.

“All you know is how to make this casserole, flip an omelet, and pour cereal into a bowl.” Susie took Dane’s plate and served him a giant piece of casserole. It looked like it had sausage, cheese, eggs, and green chilies in it. It smelled wonderful. She also scooped him up a cinnamon roll dripping in cream cheese frosting and set it on the opposite side of the plate.

“Here you go.” She set the plate down in front of him.

He smiled to himself. If someone had told him yesterday that he’d be having something other than a protein shake for breakfast, he’d have laughed in their face.

“As long as a man raises hens and knows how to make an omelet, he won’t starve. Even when the zombie apocalypse comes.” Milton watched as Susie heaped his plate with food.

“Have you been watching The Walking Dead again? You know it scares the hell out of you.” Susie served herself and set her plate down. She grabbed Dane’s hand and then reached over and took Milton’s.

Milton reached across and took Dane’s other hand. He bowed his head. “Dear Lord, please bless this food and our family and even this stranger from California who has a girlfriend but is hitting on my great-niece. Please make sure he knows that if he breaks her heart, his body will never be found. In Jesus’s name, amen.” Milton dropped Dane’s hand.

Dane wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t religious, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful so he said, “Amen.”

“Amen.” Susie looked like she was trying not to laugh. “As you might have noticed, we’re not that religious of a family, so Milton tries to sneak in extra prayers while blessing the food.” She picked up her fork and dug in to the casserole.

“Okay.” Dane stole a look at Uncle Milton. He was only mildly worried that he wouldn’t make it out of the house today alive.

Milton was busy eating his cinnamon roll. “Now about the zombie apocalypse that’s coming, I’ve got everything all worked out. Since we both have wells and a natural spring, we’re good on water. We’re going to drive the horse trailer over to that hippy commune toward Marble Falls and steal all of their solar panels—”

“It’s not a hippy commune. It’s an organic farm—”

“Same difference. They’re all about peace, love, and hugging it out. They’ll be the first ones eaten. Anyway, we’re going to take their solar panels and harvest any crops that haven’t been trampled by the zombies and bring everything back here. We’re going to use them solar panels so’s we can take hot showers and run our refrigerators. Then we’re going to build a really tall fence around our land and establish the town of Miltonville.” He took a sip of coffee. “We’re only going to let in people we like.” He held a hand up. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out. I’ve staked out the whole town on the map in my barn.”

“Thank God. I’d hate to head into a zombie apocalypse without a plan.” Susie took another bite of her casserole.

Dane had the feeling she’d listened to lots of crazy stories from Milton.

“Will I be able to move into Miltonville?” Dane wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer, but he wanted to be as close to Susie as she’d let him.

Milton put his fork down, sat back, and studied Dane. “Well, I don’t know, son. We won’t need actors. Do you have any useful skills? Miltonville might could use a bricklayer. Are you a bricklayer?”

“Sadly, I am not. But I’m an excellent gardener, and if I promise to take some bricklaying classes, will you agree to give me a thirty-day trial stay?” It sure would make it easier to spend time with Susie if her uncle liked him.

“Depends. Are you planning on bringing your girlfriend with you?” Milton arched an eyebrow. “Miltonville ain’t no polygamist colony.”

Susie threw up her hands. “This is ridiculous. Miltonville isn’t real. Zombies aren’t real.”

“You say that now, but wait until you’re knee-deep in zombies and fighting to the death over a can of tuna. You’ll be begging for me to let you into Miltonville.” The old man shoved the rest of the cinnamon roll into his mouth.

Susie turned to Dane. “I would apologize for him, but there aren’t enough words in the English language to craft an apology that’s adequate.”

“What? This is the best breakfast I’ve had in a very long time. Certainly the most entertaining.” Dane pointed to the cinnamon rolls. “These are crazy good. Thanks for including me.”

He liked being here with this odd family. He hadn’t realized that sharing a meal with family could actually be an enjoyable experience. He had a feeling that he would enjoy anything as long as Susie was there.