Chapter One: The Letter October first was a date Parker could never forget. It was both the day she buried her mother and the day the letter came. The letter was from a woman named Amelia Abbott, with an address from Jasper, Arkansas. The name struck her as familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She admired the impressive cranberry red lettering of the front as it contrasted against the dark brown envelope before turning it over and tearing it open to read its contents. September second, 2005 My dearest Parker, It is my regret, first and foremost, that this letter finds you at an unfortunate time in your life. I am sorry to hear that your mother is sick. I have always held her close to my heart, hoping that she gets better soon. However, regarding my health, I must be more realistic. By the time you read this, I will have passed away. My instructions for my staff are to send this to you once that has happened. I was not all that involved with you as you grew up, and for that, I am sorry. It was hard for me to get away from my family home here in Jasper. However, I have always kept up with you from afar, and my prayers have always followed you. Please do not mistake my reclusive nature for someone who didn't care. My parents, too, grew sick and feeble, except I expected it at their advanced age. I was glad to have been able to stay at home and be with them both in their last days. Your mother, on the other hand, to be so young and to have a thing like cancer strike - it was upsetting news. As soon as I heard, I had to meet with her. She is so very proud of you - the artist of the family! I am glad to hear that you were able to take time away to be with her. But, on to my point. I am happy to tell you that I will leave the estate to you following my death. At the age of eighty- nine, I have lived a long and favored life, and it has always been my desire that my family enjoys the same beautiful opportunities that I had. It would seem that I am the last of my family left, and, if my memory serves me correctly (and it still does), you and your mother are too. If she is feeling well enough, please take her with you as soon as you are able and go to my address listed on the envelope. Everything has been arranged, and my staff will be happy to meet with you once you arrive. Sincerely, Aunt Amelia Abbott Emotions were a peculiar thing. It was both amusing and frightening to Parker that a thing as simple as a letter could elicit the strong response she was feeling now. There was initial shock and confusion because she had never met her great aunt from Jasper, and here the woman was giving her a house. There was also sorrow as she realized Aunt Amelia had not been aware that Shelby Derrick, Parker's mother, had died only a few days ago. Judging from the letter's arrival, Parker surmised Amelia Abbott must have departed this world on the same day as her niece. "What's that you're pondering over, dearie?" came the voice of Mrs. O'Grady, with its Irish- American accent. Parker looked up and tucked the letter hastily away in the stack of envelopes she was holding. "Oh, it's nothing, Mrs. O'Grady," Parker said sheepishly, feeling her cheeks burn red. "Just more of the same, unfortunately." Although she had known Mrs. O'Grady a long time and certainly trusted her, she was still processing the information for herself and wasn't ready to unload on someone else. "Well, alright. Are you going to need any help with your recipe before I get ready for the funeral?" The older woman waved a hand dismissively as she adjusted her thick glasses. "And none of this 'Mrs. O'Grady' business. You're thirty-one years old, girl. Call me Shannon!" Parker tucked bits of her red hair behind both ears, a gesture she often made when nervous. "Right, I'm sorry," she said, chuckling quietly. "No, I think I've got the food. It sounds stupid, I know, but it's something I have to do for me ...you know?" Even though she was a horrendous cook, Parker felt the need to re-create one of her mother's favorite dishes, ham and scalloped potato casserole, from Shelby's recipe book. She felt that if she could just show up with a plate of food that she had created, it would somehow be a marker of success – a symbol to her relatives that she didn't need their pity. That anxious, embarrassed Parker Derrick was going to be just fine. "It's not customary for the grieving to make the food, Parker." She could still hear Claire, her best friend, as she tried to be supportive over the phone. "You aren't even a good cook. You have enough to deal with." Her words had been well-meaning if a little tactless. That was typical of Claire, who was often the perfect optimistic foil to Parker's rather repressed personality. She was away in Atlanta now, but Parker expected her to show up at Shelby's funeral today. "Well, I don't think that's stupid at all," O'Grady said, nodding approvingly. "And I don't think she would either. She was a wonderful woman, Parker." There was a deep sigh of regret from the older woman. "Cancer always takes them so young." Parker nodded without responding. Shelby Derrick had been a battleship of a woman, taken down at fifty-three years old by the tragedy of stomach cancer. Parker moved back home to the small town of Lakeview, Arkansas, to help take care of her. That was back in May, and Shelby died at the end of September. It was a depressing end to an altogether wretched summer, and Parker was just ready to get today over with. The best notion, it seemed, was to move back to Little Rock after the funeral. Parker had a job giving tours at the Museum of Fine Arts during the back half of the workweek. It was a far cry from what she had initially set out to do with her Bachelor's of Fine and Studio Arts, which she obtained in '94 from Georgia State, the same place where she met Claire. Since graduation, Parker had managed to gain attention with only one of her works. The painting had been abstract, depicting dozens of individuals as they avoided each other in a maze meant to represent life itself. The overall message had been a comment on the rat race and the separate hurdles each individual faced. Perhaps a bit pedestrian, but someone from Texas A&M University had loved the image, and it now hung in one of the college's five libraries. Following that recognition, she had struggled to create anything that could supersede its success. She'd moved from Atlanta to New Orleans at that point, searching for some inspiration. Unfortunately, it was more fun to drink there than it was to paint, and she next moved to Little Rock in an attempt to get serious. That meant putting pipe dreams on hold for the moment to keep a roof over her head. At least working in the museum, she indulged in the history of the art there, even if she wasn't the one creating it. Mrs. O'Grady seemed to read her thoughts. "So, what are you planning to do now? I mean, now that it's just you here?" Parker was, at the moment, renting a room from Mrs. O'Grady, which had been an easy solution to her housing problem when she'd moved here in May. "Um, honestly - I'm probably going to go back to Little Rock. I don't exactly fit in around here," she replied with a shrug and a half-smile. "Probably go back to doing the starving artist thing." O'Grady smoothed out the newspaper in front of her and gave a dry chuckle. "Darlin', if there's anyone who understood about 'not fitting in', it was us. Daniel and I moved to this country in 1946 when we were both nineteen years old." Her tone became a bit more stern, and she looked over the top of her glasses at Parker from across the table. "And you haven't known starving until you've known those times." Parker nodded in response as her blue eyes became distant, lost in deep thought. She had always felt that the older generations were made of tougher stuff. She couldn't possibly imagine her ex- fiancé, Will, sticking by her through anything as difficult as World War II or the Great Depression. She hadn't shared the news of her mother's passing with Will, and she doubted if she ever would. He had not contacted her since she left him in Little Rock. Will was a thirty-year-old branch manager she had dated for three years before reluctantly becoming engaged. On paper, Will had pretty much everything right - the college degree, the office job, the movie-and-dinner date nights. Those were surface-level perks. But there were plenty of qualities that made him too strait-laced and controlling for her taste. She thought of the numerous stupid fights, the number of failed attempts at cooking for him, at his insistence; the late nights at his office and the missed phone calls; his idea of what she should be doing career- wise. Being next to him was just a reminder of who she wasn't, not who she was. Breaking up with him had been probably the easiest thing she had ever done. That had been just before her mother broke the news about her cancer. Parker had been a little too eager to leave Little Rock behind to care for her until the both of them could figure out the next step in her treatment. Being the only child, it was natural that she would want to be at her side during that upside-down diagnosis, and technically speaking, her mom hadn't seen her face- to-face for longer than a couple of days in at least a decade. It wasn't comfortable to admit it, but Parker had failed at that, too, on top of everything else. She had been unable to maintain a relationship with the one person who cared about her. If that wasn't enough to send her into a downward spiral, there was a long list of other failures she was keeping at the back of her mind for an everyday reminder. There was the strained relationship with her father, Marshall Derrick, to consider. Marshall had been an embattled alcoholic and drug addict, even before Parker was born. Her earliest memories of him consisted of strange smells and behavior that had seemed odd to her as a child, like sleeping during the daytime. He often had transient jobs that paid their bills for the month, such as working as a mechanic or bartending. But when the pressure to get sober from his wife and everyone else became too much...well, he just ran off. Marshall had managed to stop by and see them for the first couple of Christmases, telling Shelby he was working on a pipeline crew down in Orange, Texas. But each meet-up became more and more painful for Shelby; he didn't want the responsibility of a baby, and he didn't want to put in the hard work that it would take to get better, either. He preferred just to be addicted. Four years of marriage culminated in a single day in a courtroom. When the divorce was finalized, Shelby retained full custody and the house. Parker had only been two, so all she knew was her mother, that easy-going, determined southern belle of a blond. Shelby Derrick, who always seemed to find those a little less fortunate than herself, was always ready to love on them in her way, with a hot meal and a quick, whispered prayer with them in her kitchen. Whether it was a friend or a lost soul from down the way, she always had the same calm advice for them: "Give it to God, honey - nothing else to do." Wherever God was, Parker thought, she hoped her mother was with him because it sure didn't feel like he was here. "Are you sure you're going to be alright, dear?" came O'Grady's voice again, interrupting her thoughts. "You seem a million miles away." Parker shook her head quickly to clear it, feeling herself smile mechanically. "I'm going to be fine, Mrs. O'Grady. I need to get going," she said. "I don't need to be late for the funeral. Mom always said manners were what separated us from the animals, and she'd probably roll over in her grave if I showed up late." The absurd crassness of her remarks caught even Parker off- guard, and she again felt her cheeks flush. Today is going to go well , she thought. "Alright, then, my love," O'Grady said, turning away to head to her bedroom. "I'm going to get ready then, and I'll see you when you've returned." "Yes, and thank you for coming today," Parker said, this time genuinely smiling. "Mom would have really appreciated it." "Ah, wouldn't miss it for the world. I've known the both of you since even Shelby was young," O'Grady replied. "Don't forget – I used to bounce you on my knee, and we'd listen to my old records when you were just a wee thing." Parker smiled to herself and told Shannon goodbye. It was true that she had known the O'Gradys her entire life. Like her family, they were lower-middle-class, having immigrated from Ireland after the war. Mr. O'Grady, a veteran, was employed with Lakeview's post office for as long as Parker could remember. His wife, ever the curious cat, made everyone else's business hers by inviting nearly half the town over for coffee and dessert, and, wanting to impart their small-town hospitality onto the chatty couple, no one from Lakeview ever resisted. Parker's mother must have sensed their good-natured curiosity and penchant for entertaining children. Shelby was a single mom and a full-time nurse; practically, the stars aligned in her favor. At the age of three, Parker first found herself sitting on Mrs. O'Grady's lap listening to vinyl records from the '40s. Those same records were beginning to play, she noted, as she left the house. The weather outside had turned appropriately bleak on this dreadful autumn day, and Parker opened her umbrella and sloshed through rain puddles to get to her car. The grocery store was just down the street, and it was a good thing, too – she had perhaps three hours to cook the potato casserole and get dressed for Shelby's funeral. On the way to the store, she passed by the veterinarian clinic where she was employed. When she moved here, her mother had encouraged her to stop by Doc Thompson's clinic because she'd heard old Lucille had retired. Lucille had been his ward clerk for years, and the veterinarian was beside himself in her absence. "He's more lost than a bagel in a bucket of grits," Shelby had said in her succinct way. Taking her advice, Parker had indeed started working alongside the doctor the next day, even as she wondered at the bizarre situation. The middle-aged veterinarian was recently divorced from his wife of fifteen years, and it wasn't until she started working for him that Parker remembered that he'd always had a reputation for being touchy with his female subordinates. One hadn't experienced the joys of being a woman until they've had to answer persistent phone calls at the office while simultaneously fending off wondering hands from their boss. These thoughts were merely a distraction from the issue really bothering her as she drove to the store. The mysterious letter from Amelia Abbott of Jasper certainly left much to process. The biggest question was, perhaps – why would a woman Parker barely knew leave her entire mansion to her? Why would Amelia's family have been silent on the issue for the last few days? There were other questions, smaller but insistent. When had Parker's mother had the time and the energy to travel to Jasper to speak with Amelia? If Parker remembered correctly, the small town was located two hours away from Lakeview, and the trip certainly would have taken a lot out of Shelby. She had made no mention of it to Parker, which was also unusual, considering they had shared many intimate details over the previous five months. Still distracted by these thoughts, she nearly knocked over an elderly homeless man as she entered the grocery store. Jesus Christ , she thought as she apologized to him. She really needed to get it together today. After gathering the ingredients she needed, Parker returned to Mrs. O'Grady's home and began preparing for the family lunch that would follow. After she finished, she read over the beautiful penmanship of her aunt again and decided that she would go up to Jasper after the funeral was over. If Amelia was telling the truth, her plans regarding Little Rock were suddenly null and void. She left the kitchen to get ready, the letter left sitting innocently on the table.