Dead in the Family

Tooten’s husband, Ralph, who’d quit his job at the chicken processing plant to take over. Their deal was that Perdita would give Ralph all her recipes if he’d agree to keep the name Crawdad Diner. When Ralph’s arthritis had forced him to retire, he’d sold Crawdad Diner to Pinkie Arnett with the same condition. So generations of Bon Temps diners were ensured of getting the best bread pudding in the state, and the heirs of Perdita and Crawdad Jones were able to point with pride.
    I told Sam this bit of local history after we’d ordered country-fried steak with green beans and rice.
    “Thank God Pinkie got the bread pudding recipe, and when the green tomatoes are in season, I want to come in every other night to have ’em fried,” Sam said. “How’s living with your cousin?” He squeezed his lemon slice into his tea.
    “I hardly know yet. He just moved in some stuff, and we haven’t had a lot of overlap.”
    “Have you seen him strip?” Sam laughed. “I mean, professionally? I sure couldn’t do that on a stage with people watching.”
    Physically, there sure wouldn’t be anything stopping him. I’d seen Sam naked when he changed from a shifter form into human. Yum. “No, I always planned on going with Amelia, but since she went back to New Orleans I haven’t been in a strip-club kind of mood. You should ask Claude for a job on your nights off,” I said, grinning.
    “Oh, sure,” he said sarcastically, but he looked pleased.
    We talked about Amelia’s departure for a while, and then I asked Sam about his family in Texas. “My mom’s divorce came through,” he said. “Of course, my stepdad’s been in jail since he shot her, so she hasn’t seen him in months. At this point, I’m guessing the main difference to her is going to be financial. She’s getting my dad’s military pension, but she doesn’t know if her job at the school will be waiting for her or not when the summer’s over. They hired a substitute for the rest of the school year after she got shot, and they’re waffling over having Mom back.”
    Before she’d gotten shot, Sam’s mom had been the receptionist/ secretary at an elementary school. Not everyone was calm about having a woman who turned into an animal working in the same office as them, though Sam’s mom was the same woman she’d been before. I was baffled by this attitude.
    The waitress brought our plates and a basket of rolls. I sighed with anticipated pleasure. This was much nicer than cooking for myself.
    “Any news on Craig’s wedding?” I asked, when I could yank myself away from my country-fried steak.
    “They finished couples counseling,” he said with a shrug. “Now her parents want them to have genetics counseling, whatever that is.”
    “That’s nuts.”
    “Some people just think anything different is bad,” Sam said as he buttered his second roll. “And it’s not like Craig could change.” As the firstborn of a pure shifter couple, only Sam felt the call of the moon.
    “I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I know the situation’s hard on everyone in your family.”
    He nodded. “My sister Mindy’s gotten over it pretty well. She let me play with the kids the last time I saw them, and I’m going to try to get over to Texas for the Fourth of July. Her town has a big fireworks display, and the whole family goes. I think I’d enjoy it.”
    I smiled. They were lucky to have Sam in their family—that was what I thought. “Your sister must be pretty smart,” I said. I took a big bite of country-fried steak with milk gravy. It was blissful.
    He laughed. “Listen, while we’re talking family,” he said. “You ready to tell me how you’re really doing? You told me about your great-grandfather and what happened. How are your injuries? I don’t want to sound like I expect you to tell me everything that goes on in your life. But you know I care.”
    I did a little hesitating myself. But it felt right to tell Sam, so I tried to give him a nutshell account of the past week. “And JB has been helping me with some physical therapy,” I added.
    “You’re walking like nothing happened, unless you get tired,” he observed.
    “There’s a couple of bad patches on my left upper thigh where the flesh actually . . . Okay, not going there.” I looked down at my napkin for a minute or two. “It grew back. Mostly. There’s a kind of dimple. I have a few scars, but they’re not terrible. Eric doesn’t seem to mind.” In fact, he had a