“When Aunt Mattie cooks something, she put her foot in it,” Sweet Sue said, snapping her fingers. “Nary one of us have to worry about the clap slowing down business. A bowl of that stew will dry it up in less than a day.”

“Aunt Mattie, we all know about your powerful God-given talent in the conjuring business, and we appreciate your offer. But like me and Milton, Joyce and Odell is too scientific to dabble in hoodoo,” I blurted out. I would never tell Aunt Mattie, or anybody else, that I’d tried to encourage Joyce to get help from her so she could get pregnant. After I’d had time to really think about it, I was glad Joyce hadn’t took my advice. I didn’t want a innocent baby to get caught up in the mess that was going to happen when me and Milton told Joyce about Odell and Betty Jean. I would have felt bad about that.

“That’s the truth. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll see Joyce and Odell tomorrow,” Milton said, giving me a self-satisfied look. “If they don’t come over here, we’ll pay them a visit to make sure they doing all right. I believe in being neighborly at all times.”

* * *

We had over two dozen guests when Odell came by hisself to the house Wednesday night a couple of hours after we got home from the grill. He greeted a few folks before he motioned for Milton to go in the kitchen with him. Five minutes later, Odell came back into the living room with a poker face like I had never seen before. He bolted out the front door like he had ants in his pants. I prayed Milton hadn’t said nothing too mean to him. I excused myself and skittered into the kitchen. Milton was using his hand to fan the chicken wings I had took out of the oven and set on top of the stove to cool off a little while ago. “Prince Charming didn’t look too happy just now,” I commented.

Milton held up the same hand he’d been fanning with in my face so fast, it made a whooshing sound and I felt a mild breeze. “So what? If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t be looking too happy neither. He’ll be all right after a few drinks. Make sure you give him some of the recycled stuff.”

“I always do. I wish you would stop telling me that. Anyway, he didn’t stay.”

“Oh? Hmmm. I guess I did say something he didn’t like.” Milton scratched his chin and gave me a preoccupied look that was so serious, I got the heebie-jeebies.

I was scared to hear what he was going to say next. But I asked anyway. “And what was that?”