"You're confusing me," Fred said.

"Meg keeps up with names professionally," I said. "She's a genealogist."

"Is that right? I'd like to look up my family tree someday," Fred said, surprising me. I'd never heard him mention it before. He reached over and helped himself to a cantaloupe cube from my plate.

"Birmingham is a good place to do it." Meg looked animated. "There's a special collection at both Samford and the public library."

"I might do that," Fred declared.

"Mary Alice has been kind enough to invite me to stay over for a few days while I do some research. I'd be happy to show you how to get started."

"I know the names as far back as my great great grandfather on my father's side," Fred said.

"Then you're well on your way. Some people who come to me don't even know who their grandparents were."

The plate that was on the table between Fred and me was almost empty. I got up and announced I was going for a refill and asked if I could bring them anything.

"My great grandmother was born in Madison, Georgia. I know that much," Fred said.

I don't even think they knew when I left.

Inside the ballroom, the crowd was standing in a circle around the dance floor. The combo was playing "Wind Beneath My Wings," and Debbie and Henry were dancing. I scooted back out and got Fred and Meg. "You don't want to miss this," I said.

The looks on the newlyweds' faces said it all. Henry held Debbie lightly as they moved around the dance floor, and neither took their eyes off the other. It was possible, I thought, that this was the real moment of marriage. And then Richardena Tucker, the twins' nanny, stepped onto the floor holding a toddler with each hand. Debbie took one little girl and Henry

the other. And they danced, first separately, each holding a child, and then together with Fay and May held between them. It was, as Sister said later, a Kleenex moment.

And then the whole wedding party moved onto the dance floor. Haley was dancing with Dr. Nachman and seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. I tried to remember what Sister had told me about him. Widowed. Mid-fifties.

"What kind of doctor is Philip Nachman?" I asked Fred.

"Philip Nachman?"

"The nephew. Dancing with Haley."

"Don't know anything about him, honey."

"Look at them. I think we're going to find out."

"Then let him be a sinus doctor. Please, God, let my daughter bring home a sinus doctor."

I laughed, but only at his tone of voice. Knock on any door in Birmingham, Alabama, and a sinus sufferer will answer. Maybe it's the warmth, the humidity, the lush foliage. Who knows? But a good ENT (Ears, Nose, and Throat) is worth his weight in gold here. Literally after a few years' practice. People in other parts of the country say we talk through our noses. Well, yes.