"Don't be tacky, Patricia Anne. As a matter of fact, his chauffeur is taking us to the airport. We're flying on Buddy's jet to Atlanta to the opera." Mary Alice

giggled. "Sounds like Pretty Woman, doesn't it?" "Minus a couple of vital elements. Richard Gere,

for one." Mary Alice giggled again. "I think Buddy looks a

lot like Richard Gere."

Maybe he had fifty years ago. "Be sure to practice

safe sex." I expected Sister to throw a sandwich at

me. But I'll be damned if she didn't smile. I could

hear the glub glub all the way from St. Petersburg of

Bill Adams going down the toilet.

When I left Sister's house, I stopped by the Winn-Dixie for some shrimp. Fred loves shrimp Creole, and I thought it might cheer him up. On the sidewalk in front of the store were hundreds of flats of blooming annuals, marigolds, petunias, impatiens. And I couldn't resist. I did what I do every year, assumed the beautiful spring weather would hold, that there would be no more frost, and left the store with shrimp and a flat of impatiens.

Trinity Buckalew had not called or shown up back at Sister's by the time I left there to go home. "I just hope we don't hear about her on the six o'clock news," I said, getting into my car.

"I won't. I'll be on my way to Atlanta." Sister pointed in a vague easterly direction.

"What opera are you seeing?" I had made the mistake of asking.

"Lord, Mouse. Opera's opera."

I was worried about Trinity, though. It had occurred to me that she could have overheard us talking in the kitchen about Judge Haskins claiming Meg's body. We had kept our voices down, but she could have been coming to get some more Coke or something and heard us.

I called Mary Alice as soon as I got home.

"No," she said, "haven't heard a word."

"Well, if you do, call me. I'm fixing to plant some impatiens, but I'll take the phone out with me."

' 'Okay. I guess we could call Roebuck Chapel and see if she's shown up out there."

"Good idea," I said. "Let me know."

I was hanging up the phone when I heard Sister screeching, "Mouse!"

"What?"

' 'Do you think I should wear a long dress tonight? Atlanta's so much more cosmopolitan than Birmingham. Maybe I should wear long."

I thought about Sister's question for a moment. Considered how cosmopolitan Atlanta is. "Short," I decreed.

The flat of impatiens was beautiful, a mixture of red, pink, and salmon colors. I put on my jeans, got a piece of cardboard to kneel on, and sallied forth to celebrate the annual planting of the flowers. So it would be repeated again two weeks later after a freeze, and maybe two weeks after that. So what? Today the sun was warm and tomorrow was the first official day of spring.