Outside, the rest of the crowd were in groups spread out around the yard. Some were seated in lawn chairs under the shade trees, others were braving the sun on a knee-high wall next to a border of gardenias, hydrangeas, spireas, and forsythias, bushes whose flowering time was finished for the year. We paused to watch Windy Raines and Skee Matusik, who were giving some of the younger kids a demonstration of two-man juggling. They were surprisingly good. Windy was talking trash a mile a minute and Skee kept adding in more lemons from a basket little Bert held out to him till one of them suddenly lost the rhythm and lemons went flying all over the grass.

As the children scrambled to pick them up and asked to be shown the first moves, Zach’s Emma came out with a box of Band-Aids for Skee, who had raw blisters on both his heels. Bert was still of an age that Band-Aids are wonderful. He immediately found a half-healed hurt on his hand and demanded one, too. With his sun-wrinkled skin and old, discolored tattoos, Skee Matusik was an unlikely grandfather figure, but I guess his years of working the Lucky Ducky had made him wise to the ways of children. Before tending his own hurt, he very seriously and very carefully unwrapped a Band-Aid, smoothed it across Bert’s small hand, and said, “There you go, Bo.”

At that moment, Tasha came around the corner with Sam, who had cleaned up better than I expected. A good night’s sleep, a shower, and a shave made a world of difference. He wore clean khakis, a long-sleeved dark purple knit shirt, and brown loafers with no socks. By now, he must have been told that Polly Viscardi was dead, but from the proprietary way Tasha was filling a plate for him, he wasn’t in heavy mourning.

I saw Skee and Windy exchange lifted eyebrows and heard Windy mutter, “Guess he gets to keep on sleeping in the cathouse.”

Almost against my will, my eyes went to Tasha’s feet. Blue leather with thin soles.

Adding a slice of tomato to my plate of field peas and butter beans, I followed Dwight out to a bench under a pecan tree. He looked very nice today in his tan slacks and shirt and a tweedy brown jacket that matched his brown eyes. I resisted the impulse to smooth down the unruly cowlick that always stood up.

“At least Andrew and Tally are talking,” I said. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“How’d you get him over here?” Dwight asked. “Seth said he wasn’t coming.”

“Seth just didn’t use the right argument.”

He bit into a chicken thigh. “I see you told Mr. Kezzie.”

“Daddy spoke to you?”

“No, but when I got up to open the door for you just now, he gave me a wink.”

“He’s really pleased about it,” I said. “Probably feels I’m getting the best end of the bargain. What about Miss Emily? Did you tell her last night?”