Excerpt from Happy Land by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I'd always wondered about that.

I know the Lovejoys have deep roots in the Hendersonville area, but beyond that I don't know much of the family history. Truth is, I've never been that interested in these mountains. Other than when Mama reminds me she was born and raised in Appalachia, I haven't thought about it much. To me, Appalachia is a concept. Something on television specials. Something I associate with old-time music.

But Mama's silence about her family has deepened my curiosity. She has rarely returned to North Carolina, and she never brought me or Shawnie with her. I'm curious how Mother Rita keeps herself entertained in this quiet neighborhood, living alone at her age. I hope things never get so bad between me and Shawnie that I end up alone.

I unpack in the small guest bedroom and go in search of her. The coffeepot warmer is still on, and I stop to pour myself a cup. I need to call Shawnie and check on her, but before I do, I'd like to go to the supermarket. I want to get some things for Mother Rita, whatever she needs. I look around to see if there are other tasks needing to be done. The house is what we would call "cozy" in the real estate world. Just two bedrooms and a back sunroom that looks like an addition to the original house. For the first time, I see there isn't a leak or crack in the ceilings anywhere. The paint is fresh.

My grandmother has help. So why on earth does she need me?

"You like your room? I can't remember the last time I had a guest in there." Mother Rita appears in the doorway, a green scarf tied around her hair now. Her smooth brown skin is sun-kissed, eyes bright. She carries a basket with purple flowers hanging over the side.

"Was that Mama's room?"

"Course it was."

I'm surprised at the sudden coarseness of her tone. I don't remember her being sassy. "I love it, thank you. You've been outside?" I point down at her basket.

"Just picking a few wildflowers out back. Something about the way they follow their own mind out there makes me happy."

"I was thinking of finding somewhere in town for dinner. I want to treat you tonight."

"Oh, I don't really go out to eat these days. There used to be a place I liked in Hendersonville when my Herbert was alive. But they closed down, I heard." Her voice trails off.

"Okay."

"I do like to cook, though. Ain't no meal like the one in your own kitchen."

"Sounds good to me." I watch as she fills a vase with flowers. "What do you usually eat for dinner?"

"Sometimes I eat with my neighbor Maddie Mae. She has a grandson, and she cooks for him. If I don't feel like cooking, I call her up. But it's more likely I have something here. I've got a decent garden that push something out all year long. And I love fresh bread. You like bread or you one of them low-carb people?"

"No. I mean, yes. I love bread."

She smiles at me. "You're looking at me kind of funny. I like being out here, Veronica. I enjoy my peace and quiet. This is my home, the home of my ancestors. Our ancestors."

I put my cup down. "I still go by Nikki," I say, remembering that I've always had to correct her about my preferred name.

She blinks at me as if hearing this for the first time.

I don't want to appear rude, but I only have a week with her and I've got questions. Being here, it feels urgent, suddenly, that I know what happened that day she and Mama exchanged words for the last time. Long ago, I left them to stew in their corners, but since I'm here I may as well smoke Mother Rita out of hers.

I look her right in the eyes. "Mother Rita, why did you call me down here so suddenly? Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Mama?"

She fiddles with the flowers for a moment, as if trying to think of how to answer.

"There's time enough for that, Veronica. You'll know everything in due time, I promise."

"It's Nikki," I say softly, but she's already walking away.

Excerpted from Happy Land by Dolen Perkins-Valdez. Copyright © 2025 by Dolen Perkins-Valdez. Excerpted by permission of Berkley Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.