It was. A good Southern name. Brother Lamont. So much for David Anthony. The child would be Brother for the rest of his life.

I turned on the Weather Channel. It looked like it might rain at any minute, but the radar showed that the rain had just crossed the Mississippi-Alabama border. I threw on some sweats and a jacket and got Woofer’s leash. If I didn’t take him for a walk then, we wouldn’t get one in that day.

He was curled up in his igloo, but he came out eagerly when I rattled the leash. Back in the fall, he had been bitten by a possum and had been very sick. Something good had come of it, though. When I took him back for his checkup, the vet had noticed how stiff he was and had prescribed some new arthritis medicine they’ve developed for dogs. Woofer can hike his leg halfway up a telephone pole now to mark his territory.

“Good old boy,” I said, putting the leash on. “Good old Woofer.”

I didn’t even have to coax him to the gate.

A few drops of rain had begun to fall as we returned, and the temperature had dropped ten or fifteen degrees. There had been no mention of wintry precipitation in the weather forecast, but the drops felt icy. It was hard to realize that just a few hours earlier Betsy and I could have sat in the sun at the Olde Holland Bakery and not been uncomfortable.

I took Woofer’s leash off, gave him a couple of dog biscuits, and hurried toward the house. Just as I reached the back porch, Mary Alice opened the gate.

“Hey,” she called. “Wait ’til you see what I bought.” She held up several Big, Bold, and Beautiful plastic garment bags.

I held the kitchen door open for her.

“Whew,” she said, going into the den and draping the bags over a chair. “I’m worn out. I’ve been shopping all day.”

“I thought you were going to prepare the twins for their new brother.”

“Well, I was. But he’s not coming home until tomorrow so there’s no hurry. They’re putting him under those bake lights.”

“So I heard.”

“They had to do the same thing for Debbie. Remember? It must be a Nachman gene.”

“Must be. You want a Coke?”

“Lord, yes.” She was taking the plastic from a purple pants suit as I went into the kitchen.

“Have you talked to Tiffany?” I called over the crunch of the ice falling into the glasses. “Did you know you have some flowers?”

“Really?” She came into the kitchen holding the purple suit over her arm. “Who from?”

“Guess. He said his heart leapt up.”

Joy leapt into her face. “Virgil?”