If he had a hankering for corned beef and cabbage, he’d better. And get some egg custard pie.

“Wait a minute,” I said before he hung up. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Want to uncork some vintage Viagra tonight?”

Why not? I was feeling much better when I dialed Mary Alice’s number again. And this time, Luke answered.

I asked to speak to Richard, but Luke immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Something about Virginia?”

“No, Luke. The President’s trying to get in touch with him.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, an excited mumbling, and Richard was on the phone in a second. “The President wants me? Did he say what for?”

He sounded so thrilled, I felt guilty bursting his bubble.

“It’s your mama, Richard. I didn’t want to tell your daddy on the phone. She’s okay, but she’s in a Holiday Inn Express in Nashville and says she’s killed a man.”

“The President called to tell me that? That was thoughtful, wasn’t it?”

I hoped for a moment that this was an act he was putting on for his father, but the tone of his voice was too excited.

“Very thoughtful,” I agreed. “He also suggested that you might want to see about her. Debbie’s calling the manager at the motel to find out what’s going on. But I think you ought to take over from here.”

“Right. Thank you, Cousin Pat.”

“You’re welcome, Richard. Be sure and let the President know how things turn out.”

I hung up and looked down at Woofer who was drooling over his Milkbone. “Want to run for Congress?”

I slipped on some jeans, a sweatshirt, and my Bullwinkle fuzzy slippers while I waited on Debbie’s call. I was worried about Virginia, but the talk with Richard had lightened my spirits. I turned on the gas logs in the den fireplace and fixed myself a cup of hot chocolate. Muffin jumped up beside me on the sofa, and Woofer stretched out in front of the fire.

This, I was thinking, was what January afternoons should all be like. I even managed to finish the hot chocolate and was dozing when the phone rang.

“The man’s not dead,” Mary Alice announced. “They’re taking him to Vanderbilt Hospital, but they think he just had a spell of some kind.”

“What kind of spell? Virginia said he was lying on the floor and he was obviously unconscious if she thought he was dead.”

“How should I know, Mouse? Maybe one like Aunt Gracie used to have. Remember how she would fall out? Get that look in her eye and we’d know to catch her. Good thing she was little.”

“Have you talked to Richard? I told him his mother was in Nashville and okay except for maybe having killed a man.”