“They found a sales receipt for the car in the glove compartment. Virginia had sold the car to Holden Crawford.”

I thought about this a minute.

“That doesn’t mean anything. The Crawford guy could have forced Virginia to write a sales slip so if anyone questioned his having the car he could say he bought it.”

“That’s true,” Sister conceded. “But Virgil said it was a lead.”

“Sounds like a lead to another dead body if you ask me.”

“Well, I’m thinking maybe she sold the car and went to Disney World.”

“She what?” I stared at Sister.

“You know. Like those ‘I just won the Super Bowl and I’m going to Disney World’ folks. Virginia left Luke, she’s feeling good about it, and she’s gone to Disney World.”

I shook my head in amazement. Somehow my loony sister had segued from a dead snake handler to Mickey Mouse and had lost me in the transition.

“That doesn’t make a grain of sense,” I said.

“But it’s a nice thought. Nicer than the alternative.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Have you heard from Richard?” I asked.

“Not yet.” She patted her purse. “Call forwarding.”

“Well, you be sure and tell him his mother’s at Disney World. I know he’ll be relieved.”

Fred came back in and Sister told him about Monk Crawford’s death. His reaction was the same as mine.

“Snakes? Good Lord! What kind of snakes?”

“Poisonous.”

I was glad I was sitting between them, and I was glad that was the moment when a granny-Laura came to the door and said, “Lamont family.”

The three of us jumped up and rushed to the window. The venetian blinds were opened just as a beaming Henry came in carrying David Anthony. He kissed him and handed him over to the nurse, who laid him on the table before us.

What can I say? He was quite simply the most beautiful baby I have ever seen in my life. He had a head full of black hair and perfect little features not flattened out like most newborns. Unlike the baby girl who had been on that same table earlier, David Anthony looked around calmly.

We all waved at him.

“You precious.”

“You darling.”

Fred nudged me. “Look at that, Patricia Anne. He’s looking at us.” Then, “Hey, you sweet boy.”

Henry pointed to the baby and then to himself just like the other father had done earlier.

We nodded. Yes, David Anthony was obviously his. Yes, he was amazing. Yes, he, Henry, had pulled off a miracle.

The eyedrops, diaper, blanket, cap, wave bye-bye. And we were hugging each other and crying. All of the joy, all of the hope in the world was in that small room that January night.

Tears rolled down Sister’s cheeks. “He looks just like Will Alec. It’s amazing.”