Kin – Tayari Jones

What did I need? Money, of course. Most everyone would be better off with a bit of spending change. Aunt Irene sent me two dollars every few weeks, but I dreamed of being the one sending money to her. “My aunt up north provides for me.” She clucked her tongue and bounced her left leg.

“Good woman. You have to admire the resilience of colored ladies.” She picked up a wedge of lemon, squeezed the juice into her glass, and stirred the ice with her finger. “Look at me. Just talking, talking, talking. It’s your turn. What do you want me to know about you?” I was stumped. I don’t think anyone had ever, point-blank, just asked me about myself. “You already know I come from Honeysuckle,” I said. “I already told you about Aunt Irene…” “Begin with your mother,” she said.

“How did she come to die so young?” “My daddy killed her,” I said. “Then he killed himself.” After the words came several heavy breaths as I recovered from the sheer exertion of telling the truth. As I filled my lungs and cleared them, Mrs. McHenry watched me, bobbing her head in staccato nods. “Candor is a virtue,” she said to me. “I like you more now than I did even an hour ago.” — After we finished our sandwiches and the tumblers were empty, Mrs. McHenry poured what she called a “spot” of sherry.

Then she offered a “splash” of whiskey. After that was just a “swallow” of limoncello brought back from Italy. “Are you enjoying yourself here in my home? Do you want to continue chatting?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Because I have so many questions,” she said. “I am intrigued by you! How many children?” she asked me, her breath citrussy and hot. “I’m an only child,” I said. “Remember?” “No,” she said. “How many children are you willing to mother?”

“I want a boy and a girl.” The answer came quickly, as I had been rehearsing it all my life. If you had asked me when I was just a kindergartener, I would have said the same thing. “Just the two?” “Well, I could go up to three,” I said. “Shoot for two. Everyone always ends up with one more child than they were counting on.

That’s just the law of nature. My baby boy, Franklin—he was determined to get here. Precautions be damned.” “Mr. Franklin, he seems like a nice man.” “Don’t ‘mister’ him. He’s thirty-one. Barely more than ten years ahead of you. Trust me. You want a husband that is a little bit older. My husband is seventeen years my senior. One day I will tell you that whole story. Don’t listen to a word that Joette Cunningham tells you.” The mention of her name gave me a jolt. “We’re close,” I said.

“Oh, I know,” Mrs. McHenry said. “I know everything.” My lunch flipped in my stomach. “Ma’am?” “Joette’s aunt was my friend in school.

a borzoi book first edition published by alfred a. knopf 2026 Copyright © 2026 by Tayari Jones Penguin Random House values and supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission.

You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader. Please note that no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems. Published by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, 1745 Broadway, New York, NY 10019.

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data LCCN 2025037334 ISBN: 978-0-525-65918-1 (hardcover) ISBN: 978-0-525-65919-8 (ebook) ISBN: 979-8-217-20871-5 (open market) Ebook ISBN 9780525659198 Cover image: Honeysuckle. Penta Springs Limited/Alamy Cover design by John Gall penguinrandomhouse.com | aaknopf.com The authorized representative in the EU for product safety and compliance is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68, Ireland, https://eu- contact.penguin.ie. ep_prh_7.3a_155318468_c0_r0 OceanofPDF.com Contents Dedication Epigraph Chapter 1: Vernice Chapter 2: Annie Chapter 3: Vernice Chapter 4: Annie Chapter 5: Vernice Chapter 6: Annie Chapter 7: Vernice Chapter 8: Annie Chapter 9: Vernice Chapter 10: Annie Chapter 11: Vernice Chapter 12: Annie Chapter 13: Vernice Chapter 14: Annie Chapter 15: Vernice Chapter 16: Annie Chapter 17: Vernice Chapter 18: Annie Chapter 19: Vernice Chapter 20: Annie Chapter 21: Vernice Chapter 22: Annie Chapter 23: Vernice Chapter 24: Annie Chapter 25: Vernice Chapter 26: Annie Chapter 27: Vernice Chapter 28: Annie Chapter 29: Annie Chapter 30: Vernice Chapter 31: Annie Chapter 32: Vernice Chapter 33: Annie Chapter 34: Vernice Chapter 35: Annie Chapter 36: Annie Chapter 37: Vernice Chapter 38: Annie Chapter 39: Vernice Chapter 40: Annie Chapter 41: Vernice Chapter 42: Annie Chapter 43: Vernice Chapter 44: Annie Acknowledgments A Note About the Author OceanofPDF.com For June McDonald Aldridge Spelman College, Class of 1953 OceanofPDF.com we are each other’s business: we are each other’s magnitude and bond.

—gwendolyn brooks OceanofPDF.com M Chapter 1 VERNICE y first word was “mother,” spoken out loud and with texture. MOTHER. There was a host of witnesses, including Aunt Irene, who called out for God and considered running down the block to fetch the pastor. But before she could even straighten her skirt, she decided that this wasn’t a pot to be stirred by any man’s spoon.

It was August, canning season, and the women were gathered to put away snap peas and pole beans. It was Louisiana hot, but even more so, due to the water boiling to purify the mason jars.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• Pages: 367
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 558.12 minutes
• Total Words: 111,624
• Total Characters: 593,919
• Average Words per Page: 304.15
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