In the kitchen I went straight to the refrigerator for a cold drink while Diesel visited his litter box in the utility room. I spotted a folded note with Dad scrawled across it stuck to the fridge door with a daisy magnet. As I sipped at my diet drink, I opened the note and scanned the contents.

Sean had written in his precise, bold hand, “News to share. Come to the back porch, and I’ll tell you.”

I tucked the note in my pocket and headed for the back of house. Diesel caught up with me before I reached the door and jogged past me. He turned his head toward me and warbled.

“Go ahead.” I grinned because I knew what he wanted. My boarder Justin Wardlaw had taught him how to open doors with his front paws, and Diesel liked showing off his skill. He reared up on his hind legs and twisted the knob. The door popped open, and the cat and I stepped onto the screened-in porch that ran the length of the rear of the house.

I had already picked up the fragrant smell of my son’s cigar. This was the only part of the house in which he was allowed to indulge his habit, and when I couldn’t find him elsewhere inside, I knew he’d be out here. I’d rather he gave it up entirely for his health, but I knew better than to argue with him about it. At least he smoked only where there was plenty of air circulating.

“Hey, Dad.” Sean turned and smiled, cigar in one hand and champagne bottle in the other. “Time to celebrate.”

NINE

“Celebrate?” What was he talking about? Did this mean he had finally asked Alexandra Pendergrast to marry him? We had all been expecting this for months now.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sean shook his head. “No, Dad, I haven’t asked her yet. I’m talking about the state bar exam.” He popped the cork on the bottle.

Of course. How could I have forgotten? Sean had taken the Mississippi bar in February, and the results were expected this month.

“You passed,” I said. I had never doubted he would. My son, I could say without boasting, was an extremely bright young man.

“I did.” Sean stuck the cigar in his mouth and picked up two champagne flutes. He filled one and handed it to me before filling his own.

“To Mississippi’s newest legal eagle.” I raised the glass and smiled. “I’m proud of you, as always.”

Sean beamed back at me as he raised his own. He drew on the cigar and expelled the smoke. We watched it waft away in the breeze coming through the screens as we sipped the champagne.

“Thanks, Dad.” Sean downed the rest of the amber liquid. “How about a refill?”

“No, thanks, one glass is enough for me,” I said.