“You look like an iris,” Bonnie Blue said, clasping her hands together in joy. An iris? The woman had risen to manager of the shop within six months of starting work there. Easy to see why.

“You’ve got you a new man, Mary Alice. I can tell.”

Sister nodded. I swear, blushing a little.

“He’s the sheriff of St. Clair County,” I said. “Named Virgil Stuckey. Calls her Baby.”

“Well, I declare. Tell me all about him.”

Which Sister did, transforming him into something Michelangelo might have sculpted. Then Bonnie Blue told us about Charlie, the man she had met over Christmas, and we heard that he was also straight from the sculptor’s chisel.

“Haley met the pope,” I said while Bonnie Blue paused for breath.

But the pope couldn’t hold a candle to Virgil and Charlie. If another customer hadn’t come in, and Bonnie Blue’s assistant been out with the flu, we’d still be there.

I considered taking Woofer for a walk when I got home, but clouds were building in from the west, and the sharp wind that had sprung up was stinging my face. My ribs weren’t as sore as I had thought they would be, but walking on the concrete sidewalks might jar them, make them hurt. I settled for giving Woofer a treat, went back into the den, and collapsed on the sofa. Muffin jumped up beside me, and she and I were both sound asleep when the doorbell rang. It rang a second time before I realized it wasn’t part of my dream. It rang a third time before I got to the door.

I looked through the peephole and saw Spanish moss. Albert Lee Packard.

“God, you look awful,” he said when I opened the door.

“Thanks. And aren’t you tactful.”

He grinned. “Sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Not as bad as I look.”

“Good.”

I gave him my schoolteacher look which he recognized. He laughed and held out a Piggly Wiggly sack that was folded several times at the top and that he was holding with his hand under the bottom.

“I’m on my way to Tuscaloosa and Mama wanted me to stop by and check on you and bring you this soup. She said you probably wouldn’t be up to snuff today.”

“I can’t believe you said that.”

He laughed again. “I’ve been waiting an hour to say that. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I appreciate the soup.”

“There’s a pone of cornbread in there, too.”

“Your mama is an angel. You want some coffee?”

“Sure. And I’d like to borrow your bathroom.”

“Down the hall,” I pointed. “Then come on back to the kitchen.”

I was plugging in the percolator when he came in and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Nice house,” he said. “Homey.”