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shiny turquoise jogging suit. Knox recognized her immediately as his grandmother, June, though he’d only met her a few times, and never once when she was in as good of spirits as she appeared today.
    Crowding around her scooter was the rest of Ty’s branch of the Briscoe family—his daughters, Haylie and a very pregnant Carina, along with their husbands, Wendell Halcott and James Decker, respectively. So much for a low-key first morning.
    Knox extended a hand in greeting. “Grandmother, I—”
    He could say no more as she launched herself from the scooter and threw her arms around Knox. “You came! Blessed be.”
    It only took a moment for Knox to warm up to the idea of hugging her back. It didn’t hurt that he could tell how peeved Ty was that his mother and the rest of the family had arrived on the scene. The truth was, it was a relief to see his grandmother so full of life, since the last time Knox had seen her, a little over a year ago, it had been to visit her in the hospital after she’d been injured in a fire at the resort’s chapel. And the time he’d seen her before that, it had only been a glimpse of her slipping into the back of the church during Knox’s father’s funeral. He recalled with perfect clarity how her body had been bent and trembling with grief. She’d stayed until Knox’s mother had noticed her and had ordered her escorted from the building. It had been a request in his father’s will that neither his parents nor anyone from Ty’s branch of the Briscoes attend his funeral.
    â€œYes. I came,” Knox said.
    Grandmother cradled his cheek in her hand. “You’ve got the Briscoe blood running thick in your veins, my boy. You’re the spitting image of my Tyson. Bless his soul.” She produced a purple rhinestone encrusted smartphone from the pocket of her jogging suit. In no time flat, she had it mounted onto a long stick that Knox had originally mistaken for a cane. “We’d better snap a picture to mark the day.”
    The flash went off before Knox had a chance to process her request. He blinked spots away from his vision.
    â€œGranny June, you should let me take the picture for you,” Haylie said, tossing a full head of heavily highlighted, wavy, brownish-blonde hair. She wiggled her French-tipped fingernails in the universal sign for hand it over and let a pout form on her glossy lips. Knox recognized her brand of high-maintenance, spoiled princess look so common in Dallas’s social circles, the kind of look that many of his firm’s older investors preferred as their arm candy.
    Grandmother swung the selfie stick in a wide arc, forcing Haylie and the rest of the family to duck so as to avoid getting smacked upside the head. “Oh, hush. You know I’ve got these selfies down. Try again, Knox, honey, and this time, put your chin up to keep them neck wrinkles away. And bend your knees more to help this poor old lady look tall. Now smile.”
    Knox did as he was told, crouching down to put his cheek near hers and forcing a smile to his lips just as the flash went off. When he’d recovered his wits, he got on with the obligatory handshakes to his cousins’ husbands and questions to Carina about her pregnancy.
    â€œI didn’t expect such a greeting this morning, but here you all are,” Knox said, scanning the crowd of people.
    â€œThe whole Briscoe clan except for Shayla and Wade,” Grandmother said.
    Knox had to swallow back bitterness. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of their complete erasure of his dad and mom from their conversation and memory, much less the way they jubilantly ignored thirty years of shunning silence.
    â€œMom’s not here, either,” Carina said.
    Grandmother’s wrinkled face drooped into a frown and her eyes turned hard. “Aw shucks, you’re right,” she said with tepid regret.
    Everyone shifted