Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(46)

Jenny applauded. I sniffed apprehensively.

“A few bites, and if you hate it, you can nuke your nuggets,” he promised me.

“Jonah is trying to expand my palate,” I said to Jenny.

“It’s stunted in four-year-old territory,” he explained to his mother.

“Really?” She asked pulling out a chair. “What’s your favorite meal?”

“I rely heavily on small microwavable pizzas and chicken nuggets. If I’m feeling fancy, I go for a box of mac and cheese.”

“Jonah tells me you’re pursuing a doctorate in social work. Have you experienced any of the phobias associated with being a restrictive eater?”

I lit up, remembering Jenny had been working on a psychology degree when she’d gotten pregnant with Jonah.

He rolled his eyes and dished out the food while his mother and I debated the social stigmas of picky eating.

“Speaking of eating habits,” I said, changing the subject before he got bored. “I heard you had ice cream with a few of Bootleg’s eligible bachelors this afternoon.”

Jenny smiled and looked at her plate. “I met a very charming hardware store owner,” she said.

“Jimmy Bob Prosser certainly is handsome,” I prodded.

Jonah didn’t look exactly thrilled over the turn in conversation, but he didn’t get defensive either. Points for him, I decided.

“And then I spent some time with Gibson. He showed me his shop.”

Jonah looked up from the stir-fry. “Gibson Bodine?”

Jenny nodded, looking amused.

“He willingly took you to his place?” he pressed.

She laughed. “He did. He showed me the cabinets he’s working on right now. It’s this custom bar for a client in Perrinville. They’re stunning. He does incredible work.”

“Mom, I lived here for six months before I even saw the man’s driveway,” he said.

I pushed a snow pea around my plate trying to soak up as much of the sauce as possible to drown out the vegetable-ness. I took a breath and popped it in my mouth. It wasn’t my favorite. But the sauce was nice. I could probably choke down a few more bites, make a good impression.

“I think he’s kind of lonely,” Jenny mused.

I slapped the table enthusiastically. “I think so, too!”

“He’s not lonely,” Jonah argued. “He’s a loner. There’s a difference.”

“He can be both,” I insisted.

“I really like him,” she said. “Scarlett, too. It’s hard not to fall in love with her. And Jameson and Bowie seem like good men.”

“They’re a tight family, good people,” I supplied.

“Good people waiting to find out if their father was a drunk and a murderer or just a drunk,” Jonah said.

I stuffed a bite of beef in my mouth. He never talked about the “situation.” Not around me. I knew he was protective toward the Bodines, but I was still curious how he felt about it all.

Jenny reached over and took his hand. “Your father, their father, was no murderer. I’m sure of that.”

“That’s all well and good, Mom. But opinions won’t give either family any peace,” Jonah said. “We ran into the Kendalls this morning, and you can just see the toll this is taking on them.”

Her eyes widened.

“The investigation has been going on for quite some time since Scarlett found the sweater in her father’s things after he passed away,” I explained.

I was curious how Jenny felt about the father of her only child and his untimely death, his unhappy life. But, again, the dinner table probably wasn’t the place to dig into those questions. “I think everyone is frustrated and fatigued without any firm answers. We may never know for sure what happened to Callie Kendall.”

“Jonah’s wife, Connie, died in a car accident about a year after the Kendall girl disappeared,” Jonah told his mother. “Now they’re saying there’s a possibility that it wasn’t an accident at all.”

Jenny fumbled her fork, and it fell to her plate with a clang.

Billy Ray woke with a start from his nap under the table and started barking. Then the barking switched to howling.

“Definitely some beagle in the little guy,” Jonah shouted over the ruckus.

“Billy Ray! Quiet down, now,” I said, poking my head under the table. The dog looked surprised by his own big voice.

Jonah’s phone rang in the kitchen. He glanced down at his fitness watch. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Scarlett’s calling, and I just got a bunch of messages from Bowie.”

He left the table and answered his phone.

“Slow down, Scar. What channel?”

From the table, Jenny and I watched him pace into the living room and turn on the TV.

The evening news anchor was talking about Callie Kendall.

I pushed my chair back and hurried to join Jonah in the living room.

“The skull had been missing from the skeletal remains found a few weeks ago outside of Cleary. The human remains were discovered during excavation for a housing development. Experts believe the bones are between eleven and thirteen years old, a timeline that coincides with the high-profile disappearance of sixteen-year-old Callie Kendall. With the discovery of the skull, investigators are confident the remains will be identified through dental records,” the anchor said.