I couldn’t believe how quick their demeanor changed. Now they had wall-to-wall grins on their faces. I was surprised they didn’t do cartwheels. Especially Milton. He actually danced a five-second jig. “A hundred bucks would make us right happy.” He turned sharply to look at Yvonne. “Ain’t that right, sugar?”

She was grinning so hard now, I was surprised her jaws didn’t lock. “Sure enough. I’m so happy I could wrap it in eggshells,” she squealed, bobbing her head up and down like a woodpecker. “Joyce, we’d be lost without you and Odell.”

“I know,” I agreed.

CHAPTER 11 - MILTON

CHAPTER 11

MILTON

DR. WILBUR PATTERSON, THE SHARP-FEATURED GENERAL PRACTITIONER from down the street, and his plain, pigeon-toed wife, Eloise, moseyed in our front door ten minutes after me and Yvonne got home. They was the first guests to show up Friday evening. “Milton, I hope we aren’t too early,” Mrs. Patterson said, with a apologetic look on her face. “I tried to get this man to wait an hour or so to give y’all time to get settled. But he was champing at the bit and couldn’t wait any longer. So, here we are.”

“Y’all right on time. We been itching to get back into the swing of things,” I assured her.

“That’s what I wanted to hear! I was so happy when I saw y’all walking up the street. I’m glad everything is okay, because I’m itching to do some socializing,” Dr. Patterson tossed in.

The four of us laughed and group hugged.

“Wilbur and I didn’t think Potts could make a case,” Eloise said in her high-pitched voice. “We were here Tuesday night and we sure didn’t see any teenage white girl on the premises. I hope y’all can still join us for Thanksgiving.”

“We’ll be there with bells on,” Yvonne replied with a firm nod. “We got much more to be thankful for now.”

“Y’all find a seat and I’ll get some drinks,” I piped in. “I’ll talk to y’all some more directly.”

The Pattersons plopped down in chairs facing the couch and I brung them large jars of white lightning right away. “If we hadn’t missed work this week, I’d let y’all have these drinks on the house. But . . .”

Dr. Patterson held up his knotty hand. “We don’t want to make matters any worse for y’all. We know how tight money is going to be for a while,” he said. I grinned, but I didn’t comment. Now that I knew how sympathetic he was, I had a feeling he’d give us a loan if we had to ask.