“Fine,” he said. “Have a good time.”

The last thing I remembered that night was Muffin jumping up on the bed between us.

Chapter Four

Chapter
Four

E-MAIL

FROM: HALEY

TO: MAMA

SUBJECT: ANGELS

Of course I believe in angels, Mama.

I love you,

Haley

E-MAIL

FROM: MAMA

TO: HALEY

SUBJECT: BALLS

Honey, is your Aunt Sister lying to me or did Philip give her a silicone testicle for Debbie to squeeze when she’s in labor? She said it was her pearls and put it in my purse which, fortunately, the customs people didn’t search. I could wring her neck. Pukey Lukey is here, Virginia has run off with a house painter who lives up at Steele. That’s the little town where you exit to go to Horse Pens 40. Remember? Where we bought your Log Cabin quilt. Anyway, we’re going up there today. He says he just wants to know that she’s okay. He showed up yesterday looking like the wrath of God. She’s been gone ten days. We told him to call Richard, but he says Richard is too busy running the government, a scary thought. I’ll keep you posted.

How was the party?

I miss you.

Love,

Mama

As I turned off the computer, I heard the toilet in the hall bathroom flush. It was 8:30, Fred had gone to work and I had been up an hour, but we had been quiet so Luke could sleep. There was no hurry about going to Steele.

I knocked on the guest room door and handed Luke a toothbrush and a razor. He was buttoning the blue plaid shirt he had worn the day before and I considered offering him one of Fred’s, but decided it would be too small for him. A week of worrying hadn’t lessened Luke’s belly.

“There’s coffee when you’re ready,” I said.

“Thanks.”

“An egg?”

“Just some cereal.”

I went into the kitchen and picked Muffin up from the table. Out of the bay window, I could see the bare limbs of the trees bending in the wind. Dark gray clouds were layered across the sky. If this weren’t Birmingham, Alabama, and if I hadn’t just heard the weatherman say it was going to be partly cloudy, I would have sworn it was going to snow. I checked the thermometer on the deck. Thirty-eight degrees. No sign of Woofer. He was taking full advantage of his igloo doghouse, one of the best buys I ever made.

“Looks like a raw day,” Luke said when he came in.

“Looks like snow,” I agreed. “But the weatherman says it’s not going to. He says it’s going to be partly cloudy.”

Luke looked better, probably because he had shaved.

I held up Cheerios and corn flakes. He pointed to the Cheerios. I poured some in two bowls and cut up half a banana in each.