“Flowers add love to life,” Aunt Camellia said, clasping her hands together in joy. “Romance. A taste of floral heaven.”

“Packaging is important from a practical, marketing perspective,” Aunt Iris said. “We are a business.”

“I’m so excited about our Antarctica trip!” my mother said, clapping her hands after one more reprimanding glance in my direction.

“You’re not going to follow my advice, are you?” I said. Dang it. I had neatly piled up about twenty-five books against the light blue armoire into which my grandma Lucy used to climb and sing songs, and Venus jumped up on it and knocked it over.

“More lemon pie, honey?” my mother said, holding her hand out for my plate.

“Advice can be given but not acted upon if the receiver does not intellectually or spiritually agree,” Aunt Camellia said.

“If we want your advice on our Antarctica business, we’ll ask for it, young lady,” Aunt Iris said. Then she squeezed my hand to take the sting out of her words.

I stared at them with some suspicion as they dug into their lemon pie with an overload of enthusiasm.

They had the munchies, didn’t they?

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Betsy Baturra
Women’s Correctional Prison
Salem, Oregon
1978

After performing dish-cleaning duty in the kitchen one night, Duke lay in wait for Betsy. Duke had been able to switch shifts without much notice. There was a new guy handling the schedules and he didn’t know all the dynamics yet. He didn’t know that Duke had many enemies and he was not supposed to be near Betsy. He didn’t know that Coralee was doing her best to keep Duke away from her.

Duke excused one of the guards and said he would take Betsy back to her cell. The guard was new and young, and he knew Duke was the warden’s nephew.

Betsy began to shake as Duke took her elbow. “No, Duke, Carson is supposed to take me back. Carson, you take me back.”

“I-I . . .” Carson stuttered. “I’ll do it, Mr. Duke. I’m supposed to do it. I’ve . . . I’ve been assigned.”

Duke told Carson to stop “being a pussy. Shove off, Carson, or I’ll report you.”

Carson said, “It’s my job,” and Duke slammed him into a wall. Carson sunk to the ground.

“See?” Duke laughed, bending down and putting his face smack up to Carson’s. “You are a pussy.”

When they rounded that one blind corner, right by the supply closet, where Duke knew the cameras didn’t reach, he quickly opened the door. Betsy’s hands had not yet been cuffed by Carson, and Duke hadn’t noticed in his hurry to steal her away. He shoved her up against the metal shelves, her face crashing into an edge, then pulled on her orange pants, yanking them to her knees, as she fought through the dizziness.