Turnabout's Fair Play Read Online Free PDF Page A

wake-up call.”
    For a long time, Jamie didn’t move, didn’t speak. Finally, he sat up, rubbing his nose. “Why couldn’t God have just sent me a registered letter instead?”
    Maureen chuckled. Nothing kept her grandson down long. She leaned over, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and gave him a squeeze. “Now’s your chance, Jamie. Your chance to start all over again and figure out what you really want to do with your life. And you can start by going to Bobby Patterson’s bachelor party tonight.”
    “But I told you I’d come help with game night at church.”
    So proud of him she couldn’t stand it, Maureen pinched his cheeks. “You are so precious. But the senior adults of Acklen Avenue Fellowship can manage on our own. Besides, after calling bingo for two hours at the nursing home last night and then coming home and talking to me until the wee hours, you need a break from hanging out with old folks. Go. Have a boys’ night out. Make new friends. And open up your heart for whatever it is God might be trying to tell you.”
    He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll go. And I’ll try to have a good time.”
    “Every time you start feeling low, just remember the old song about turning your frown upside down.”
    “You used to sing that to me after Mom left.”
    She nodded. “I know.”
    He pressed his forehead to hers. “What did I ever do to deserve a grandmother like you?”
    “I don’t know, but it must have been something wonderful.”

    “Sorry I’m late, Big Daddy. I couldn’t get away from the office. Not from lack of trying, though.”
    Kirby McNeill set the menu down and stood to greet his youngest granddaughter with a kiss on the forehead. “I thought you were supposed to be off work today, helping out with last-minute things for your friend’s wedding.”
    Flannery sat in the chair he held out for her, shaking her head. “Got bad news last night. That big contract I’ve been working on for months, which they were supposed to give me a final answer on yesterday—there were more pieces they wanted to negotiate, so I’ve been haggling with the contracts manager and my boss all morning. But Bobby’s mother and Caylor are with Zarah, helping her with what needs to be done.”
    After ordering, Flannery went back to talking about her job. Kirby fought the urge to give her advice on how to deal with the coworkers, agents, authors, and production people who seemed to do nothing but add stress to her life. But sixty years as a pastor had taught him that young people didn’t want counseling or advice unless they specifically asked for it—and then, most of them didn’t take it anyway.
    “I got the final changes done and the new contract sent over right before I left to come here. The agent promised me a final answer before end of business today. And since he’s in Atlanta, hopefully he means eastern time, which means I might actually get to leave work by five o’clock our time.” She dug around in the large pile of salad greens remaining in her bowl for the last piece of fried chicken. “How’s your room at Union Station? Did you get checked in okay?”
    “It is much nicer than it was when your grandmother and I stayed there the night after we got married.” He watched her plunge the breaded nugget into the dressing and eat it.
    “Sorry things didn’t work out for you to stay with me on the weekends.”
    With only one parking space in the garage under the high-rise condo building and her determination to give up her own bed and sleep on the not-quite-long-enough sofa in what she called “an open-concept one-bedroom”—meaning that only an angled half wall separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment—Kirby had put his foot down and told her he would stay in a hotel when he came up on the weekends to visit with her and attend church.
    “You need your privacy—especially on your only days off from work.” Not that she ever truly took any time off from work.