So far, Miranda is still trying to get her life together. She is raising the son of her ex-lover, Dougie. Dougie has been missing for close to two years, now he is back in town and Miranda is afraid that he's come back to take the boy.

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I don't bother to call Momma, before showing up on her doorstep. When she opens the door, she smiles first then immediately replaces the smile with a serious look. "Well, Miranda Lynn, this is a surprise. It isn't my birthday, and it isn't Mother's Day. What do I owe this pleasant surprise to?"

"Can't I just come see you without a reason?" I ask as I inch past her and head to the kitchen.

"You can, sure, but you usually don't. What's going on?"

I slump down on the stool at the counter and study the rooster wallpaper that's been there for as long as I can remember. "Dougie's back."

Momma does a dramatic step back. "Back as in here. In Patterson county?"

I nod. "I know he wants Waylon back."

She shakes her head and crosses to the refrigerator where she pulls out a carton of eggs and a stick of butter. "Scrambled eggs?" She never turns around to see if I shake my head yes or no. Eggs are our love language. When the world becomes overwhelming, she fixes scrambled eggs. When I'm sad or she's worried, scrambled eggs make everything better. "Waylon wouldn't go with him. He loves you. He's a smart boy."

"You should have heard how happy he was after he talked to his dad."

She moves the skillet off of the burner and comes over to wrap her arms around me. "It's only natural that Waylon would be happy to hear from him. Give it time, Miranda. That boy isn't stupid, he'll see through the bullshit pretty quick. And, who knows, maybe Dougie's changed."

I level my gaze at her. "That would be something."

We chat about mundane things while she finishes fixing breakfast, you know things like the weather, my job. Then she brings the plates over and we start to eat.

"How's Mitch?" she asks, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin.

"He's fine. He still level headed and pragmatic. Not sure what he sees in me, to be honest."

"Miranda Lynn! Don't you ever put yourself down like that. Mitch loves you. You're a smart and beautiful woman."

I look at her, my momma, my biggest defender and fan. "If I'm so smart, why is my life such a train wreck all the time?"

"Nobody has a perfect life. That's a myth. You remember the Ferguesons?" she asks.

"The big white house on the corner? They had two girls, both a little older than me. I remember them, why?"

"Mrs. Fergueson passed last year from breast cancer. One of her daughters ran off and joined some religious cult and Mr. Fergueson married his secretary less than a month after he buried his wife."

"And?" I ask, wondering where this was going.

"And, I thought they were perfect. They were the perfect Facebook image. It's all smoke and mirrors, Miranda. There is no such thing as perfect. We are all the conductors of our own trains. Some derail and are back on track in no time. Others derail and they just walk away from the wreck, hop another train and repeat the process. When you were in the hospital, Mitch told me how much he loved you. Said that you were probably one of the smartest, most determined people he'd ever known. It killed him to see you lying there on the hospital bed. He told me , he kept waiting for you to open your eyes and say something smart alec. So, don't you ever forget how smart you are."

I scoop the last bite of egg and eat it, then sit back full of eggs and love.

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Rita finishes ringing her customer up and grins when I come around the counter. "The reporter called again. She was asking questions about Waylon."

"You didn't tell her anything, did you?"

"No. Just that he was still living with you. She asked what grade he was in and which school he went to."

My eyes narrow and I tense up. "You didn't give out that information, please tell me you didn't."

Rita shakes her head, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders. "No, No, I told her I wasn't sure. Told her to call back after you got here."

I pull my vest on and flip my hair out from under it. "What the hell does she want to know about Waylon? Unless she knows Dougie is back. She's a little news hound but even she wouldn't stoop so low as to try to get a story from a minor."

Rita shrugs. "Oh, wow, look who's back." She points at the door and I roll my eyes. In walks Alice and Brenda. Alice saunters like she's the cat's meow and Brenda follows her, clutching her purse.

"Ladies, you aren't here to start any trouble are you?"

Alice smiles like she's just heard a dirty joke, but Brenda is shaking her head. "I brought money with me." She lifts her leather purse up so I can see it.

I turn to Rita and whisper. "Don't take your eyes off of either of them." I come out from behind the counter. "So, ladies, how were the strippers?"

"Too young," Alice says. "They had the goods but didn't know what to do with them."

"Well, I'm sorry it wasn't as wonderful as you thought it would be. Still, it had to beat having the early bird special at Applebee's."

"The appetizers at Applebee's are a tad bigger than the appetizers that day."

I cough my laugh into my palm. Alice is a real character.

"We are giving it one more chance." Alice tosses her head from side to side.

"Strippers? How many different young men do you know, Alice?" I ask.

"Met this one as we were walking by a construction sight. Nice enough kid."

I shake my head. "Well, the best of luck to you ladies. I hope it's everything you think its going to be."

Brenda walks to the counter with a bottle of Manischewitz blackberry wine. She sets it down and then starts patting herself down. "See, nothing in my shirt," she says, making sure I watch her.

"Okay, Brenda. I can see that." I say, scanning the bottle and slipping it into a bag. After she pays, I walk with them to the door.

"Ladies, have a great time. And, remember, young men scar easily. Be gentle with them."

I watch them as the walk across the parking lot. Two old women who still go after life with gusto. God help those strippers.