Page 52 of Bitter’s Sweet

Mercy looks up from her clipboard. “Mourning Adams, that is a funeral home.”

“I know what it is. I buried three husbands through it.”

The second woman lifts one finger. “Two and a half.”

Mourning turns. “Vesper, we agreed not to count Earl that way in public.”

“He only stayed married to you nine days.”

“Longest nine days of his life.”

“Shortest marriage of yours.”

“Still counts.”

The rooster makes a noise that sounds like a rusty hinge judging everybody.

I stop wiping.

Lark leans close. “The Adams twins.”

“Adams?”

“Bitter’s grandmothers. Sort of. Don’t ask unless you got three hours and snacks.”

“Both of them?”

“Family tree forks wrong around here.”

That explains absolutely nothing, but somehow, after the day I’ve had, I accept it.

Miss Mercy sets her clipboard down. “Why is there a rooster in my school?”

Mourning hugs the bird closer. “This is Sheriff.”

Vesper nods solemnly. “He bites liars.”

“He bites everybody,” Mercy says.

“That’s how he finds liars.”

Sheriff the rooster looks at me.

I give him a polite smile because I was raised right and also because I do not want to be accused of lying by poultry.

Vesper’s head turns toward me with unsettling precision. “Who’s the yellow-haired sunshine?”

“I’m not yellow-haired. My cardigan was yellow.”

Mourning’s eyes narrow. “Mouthy sunshine.”

Vesper smiles. “Bitter’ll like that.”

My stomach flips, which is annoying because it is none of their business and also probably true.

Miss Mercy points at them. “No matchmaking.”

“We ain’t matchmaking,” Mourning says.