Free The Truth About Mallory Bain by Clare Hexom Page B

mother.”
    He hesitated.
    â€œThey keep to themselves,” said Dana.
    Jack shot her a dark look.
    Dana continued. “I’ve never met a single Harwood. I’ll bet Ben hasn’t, either.”
    Ben ignored her.
    â€œThey will be attending graduation, certainly,” said Judith.
    Jack bowed his head and laid his fork across his empty plate.
    â€œAfraid not.”
    Dana bowed her head, too. Ben and I exchanged looks. Without any conversation on the matter, I knew he, too, assumed a Harwood was to blame for Jack’s discontent.
    The breeze eventually changed to wind pushing ballooning clouds in front of the sun. I noticed Judith staring at the sky, her face inexpressive. I looked upward, too.
    â€œBetcha there’s tornado warnings for the suburbs again this evening.” She rose and shoved her vacated chair against the house.
    â€œWe better clean up then, eh?” Ben cranked the umbrella closed.
    Judith looked to me. “I’ll stay ’til the storm dies, if nobody minds.”
    Ben said, “No problem, Mrs. Johnston. You’re always welcome.” He grinned at me with a raised brow, his arms full of stacked plates.
    Such a sucker for his cuteness, I smiled back, “Of course you are.”
    Judith added, “Storm or no storm, my dogs are waiting for me.” She scooped ribbon and candles into her arms, tipped her head toward Ben and whispered, “You call me Aunt Judith from now on. No more Mrs. Johnston. You hear?”
    Her fussing over him sickened me, but I knew his ear-to-ear grin meant he’d won her over for a lifetime.
    â€œOkay. Aunt Judith,” he confirmed my hunch with his sweetest smile. “I can do that.”
    I watched Jack join Dana leaning against the veranda railing overlooking the backyard. They took turns pointing at the lightning zigzagging across the darkening sky. He whispered in her ear; she whispered back. They smiled.
    She does make him happy. Maybe I was all wrong about “sans Dana.”
    â€œLooks like something major is going on there,” Jack called back to me, pointing to a round area with no grass.
    I walked over to the railing. “My dad’s latest project. Another patio. He has men coming out next week to enclose the garden area beside the garage with a small wall and lay stone in that round spot.”
    A low, lingering rumble of thunder returned us to the table, and with everyone’s help, we quickly finished gathering the remnants of our cookout into the house. Dana smiled sweetly and opened the screen door to let me into the kitchen.
    She then disappeared into a distant part of the house while the rest of us finished arranging the patio furniture ahead of thestorm. The outside temperature dropped enough to do without the AC, but I cracked open a few windows away from the downpour for badly needed fresh air to clear the house of cooking odors.
    Aunt Judith offered to carry a dessert tray to the family room, where everyone had gathered. Jack knelt in front of the fireplace poking at a small, crackling fire. I followed my aunt downstairs, but took Dana off-guard when I cleared my throat after hearing her say, “See ya, Chad.” The call meant nothing, except for her guilty look that took me off-guard.
    The instant Jack saw us he jumped up, brushed his hands off on his jeans, and strolled about the room. He rubbed his palm over a well-polished doorframe, and then paused before a painting of Minnehaha Falls hanging above Grandpa’s old roll-top desk. My parents would have liked how Jack appreciated the enduring traces of early-twentieth-century charm the house held.
    His goblet swirled blood-red wine, and one by one, he inspected our family photographs lining the long mantel. He stopped and peered at my oldest brother’s Army portrait.
    â€œThis must be Tony.”
    I nodded.
    â€œA shame he’s gone.” He hesitated. “I expect you think about him often.”
    â€œEvery