“Hmm,” she said. “Those guys are going to have to stay out of your way as they build that thing.” Then she looked into the air above my head as if pondering something. “Well, listen,” she said. “Would you like to see where my father grew up?”

The invitation was so out of character that it took me a moment to understand it. “Tonight?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. It’s my aunt’s birthday. Mama Nelle. My father’s baby sister.”

“Wow,” I said. Did I want to spend a whole evening with Lisa? But the thought of seeing where Jesse Williams grew up was enticing. “All right,” I said. “Give me a minute to change?”

Lisa looked at her phone. “Hurry up,” she said. “I want to leave in five.”

I raced to the sunroom. I had little in the way of nice clothes. Everything I’d bought after being sprung from prison had been with the idea that I’d spend the bulk of my time working on the mural. But I put on a pair of clean jeans and the only decent top I owned—the blue sleeveless blouse I’d worn the day I left prison. I ran a comb through my hair and hurried out front, where Lisa was already waiting in her car.

“How far is it?” I asked as Lisa began driving.

“Just a little ways outside town.”

“So, this ‘Mama Nelle’ is Jesse’s sister?”

“Yes.”

“How come you call her ‘Mama’ then?”

“Everybody does. Don’t know when that started, but everybody treats her like she’s their mama. She’s eighty-seven and has a serious heart condition and some of that come-and-go type of dementia, so we’re all thinkin’ this may be her last birthday.”

Lisa sounded different. The change in her voice was fascinating, actually. Her tone was more casual, her language looser. She was definitely off duty tonight.

“He grew up out in the country?” I asked as the town gave way to fields that stretched far into the distance.

Lisa nodded. “The Williams farm’s been in our extended family one way or ’nother pretty much since the end of slavery.”

“Were Jesse’s ancestors slaves?” I asked.

“What d’you think?” Lisa smirked as though it were a stupid question. “Mine, too. Remember? My ancestors are Jesse’s.”

Okay, I thought. So Lisa’s language might be looser but her personality was as prickly as ever.

“Right,” I said. “So, your … great-great-grandparents were slaves?”

“Exactly. On both sides of the family. Nearly all my people still live near the farm, except for a few who moved away. But people who move away tend to come back. Edenton’s got a magnetic pull on folks who were born here.”

“Have you ever thought of leaving?”

Lisa was quiet for a moment. “I only left for college,” she said. “And I don’t plan to leave ever again.”