“You are kiddin’ me.” Mitzi could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Elijah has to be eighty, is shorter than you, and as skinny as a broomstick. You’ve never dated, so why start now?”

“I wish my dad would date,” Dixie said before Fanny Lou could answer. “All he does is work, sleep, and try to be a dad.”

“He’s good at all of it, except the sleepin’ part,” Tabby said seriously and then lowered her voice. “He snores when he’s really tired.”

“So you want your dad to date?” Paula asked.

“Oh, yes, we really do,” Dixie answered. “If he’d find someone like Mitzi, then he’d never let Mother move back in with us.”

“What do you mean ‘like Mitzi’?” Jody asked.

If they’d been sitting, Mitzi would have gladly kicked her shins under the table.

“You know.” Dixie continued to stare at her reflection in the mirror. “Not like a skinny Minnie, and nice to us because she understands.”

Tears welled up in Mitzi’s eyes. “Y’all are going to make me cry.”

Tabby smoothed the front of her dress. “Well, we sure don’t want to do that. And much as I hate to take this dress off, even if it’s not finished, it’s quittin’ time. We’re makin’ meatloaf for supper, and it needs to be in the oven in fifteen minutes.”

“You’re sure good, girls,” Fanny Lou said. “Most of today’s generation don’t care much about cookin’ and sewin’.”

Tabby gently pulled the dress over her head, careful not to get stuck by the pins. “That’s the part of helping Daddy that we like best. According to what we hear, Mother wasn’t much of a cook and couldn’t sew on a button.”

Is their attitude a direct result of Rita’s leaving them at a young age? Mitzi wondered as she helped Dixie out of her dress. “Well, we all have our strong points and weak ones. Mine is cleaning the bathroom. I can do it, but it’s not my favorite job.”

Dixie threw up a hand. Mitzi high-fived her. She could just wring Rita’s neck for not seeing what sweet, kind daughters she had.

“We take turns doing that job each week because we hate it so bad,” Dixie said.

“Mitzi has a reason for that. When she was about fourteen, she found a big tarantula hiding behind the toilet,” Fanny Lou said. “She’s been afraid of spiders ever since.”

Mitzi shivered. “That thing jumped onto my arm and crawled to my shoulder before I got up enough nerve to bat it off. It hit the wall, fell back on the floor, and started crawling toward me again. Those big old eyes were just plumb evil.”

“I’d have died,” Tabby said. “I like hate spiders. Even them little bitty ones. Dixie kills them for me.”