“No, I’m not!” Bella Mae stomped her foot again.

“Hi, Evie,” Gerald Stokes said, standing up and walking over to me. Gerald is about thirty-eight. He wants to date me. I am not interested, but he is a good man. Kind. Glasses. Independently wealthy because of some tech company. A startup or something. I don’t know.

“Hi, Gerald. How are you?”

“I’m fine. The boys aren’t. They ate something they shouldn’t have. Bruno likes to eat my socks even though it makes him sick, and his brother likes to gnaw on shoes. They’re not bright.”

“They don’t look too happy.” The dogs were unnaturally quiet. “That’s what eating shoes does to you, I suppose. And socks. Not healthy.”

“No.” His face was drawn. He loves those dogs.

“Marco can fix them.”

“I know. Say, any chance you’d like to go to dinner?”

“No, but thank you.”

“My mom would,” Bella Mae said, swinging around with Mr. Pitto held right in front of her. Poor Mr. Pitto.

“Bella Mae, shhh!” Jolla said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you say shhh, Mommy?” Bella Mae said, irritated, swinging Mr. Pitto back again to glare at her mother. “I don’t like when you do shhh. I don’t like shhh. I’m only telling Mr. Gerald you would go to dinner.” She whipped back around to Gerald. Mr. Pitto glared again. Or maybe he was simply getting motion sickness. “She eats pizza. I mean, she can eat a whole pizza all by herself. So if you go to O’Dante’s for pizza, I’m letting you know. You need to buy one for her and one for yourself. You have to feed her a lot and—”

“Bella Mae!” Jolla snapped, standing up and putting her hand on Bella Mae’s shoulder. “Stop it. I do not eat whole pizzas by myself, and you don’t need to tell anyone that.”

“Yes, you do.” And there went Mr. Pitto again, but this time he went up, up in the air above Bella Mae’s head to make her point. The iguana was now inches away from being a hat. His little feet tried to walk. Or run.

“I’m sorry,” Jolla said to Gerald. “I’m working with her on her manners, but she is poorly behaved.”

I know Jolla, and she didn’t mean it like it sounded.

“I am not behaved poorly.” Bella Mae leaned forward and glared once again at her mother, Mr. Pitto swinging in the air over her head. “I am good behaved.”

She was going to be a hellion. Exactly like her mother when we were running around in high school doing crazy stuff.

“Bella Mae,” her mother said, so stern.

“All I am saying, Mommy,” Bella Mae huffed, “is that Gerald asked Miss Evie out and she said no and you would say yes. Why does that make me behaving poor?” She turned to Gerald. “She thinks you’re handsome.”

“Oh, my God,” Jolla said. “Please. Bella Mae, stop.”

“My mom is behaved poorly sometimes.” Bella Mae now held Mr. Pitto with one arm as if he were a baby, his stomach in the air. He seemed stunned. This was so undignified for him! “But most of the time: Nice. Want to hold my iguana? Miss Evie says he’s going to be fine. She can see the future.”