“Well, I, for one, am glad you’re here,” Mr. Evans says, then looks at his wife. “I’ve always given you room for your opinions, but we’re in someone’s home right now. Lillian’s worked for us for years counting books, helping expand our sales online when the business was damn near ready to fold. We know her kids, and there’s nothing wrong with an investigation to help bring justice for James if they can prove he was innocent.”

“Don’t make me the bad one here.” Mrs. Evans raises her voice. “I want to protect my family. I don’t want to get mixed up in this like I’m choosing sides.”

“Choosing sides,” I say. “There’s one side. The side of justice.”

“I’m not saying anything about your dad’s…situation. But with that poor girl dead, people are asking questions. Now, if it looks like we’re helping, we might lose business.”

Mama’s face goes tight. Mrs. Evans is talking about Jamal now, and it don’t sit right.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Lillian. I don’t mean anything by it. I’m saying what it looks like to other people might have an impact on my business. My home.”

“I don’t want to get anyone upset.” Steve shakes his head. “But if causing disruption in town is asking questions and finding evidence that might free an innocent man, then call me guilty.”

“I’m gonna start on dessert now.” Mama sits up. “Corinne, you wanna help?”

“I’ll get the bananas.” Corinne races to the kitchen, finally a smile on her face. Mama goes to follow Corinne, but Mr. Evans places his hand on hers.

“No. No. Sit down,” Mr. Evans says. “I think it’s due time Judy sits and listens. If she’d change the news channel every once in a while, she’d see real issues are going on with police and Black folks. And you know it’s no different than it’s ever been around here.”

“Don’t get started on this Blacks and police.” Mrs. Evans shakes her head. “None of this has anything to do with race.”

I’ve always suspected her feelings but didn’t know for sure. Dean’s hidden them as much as he could from me until recently. But the more I hear from her, the more I’m boiling inside. I grip my hands under the table to control myself and avoid looking at Dean, who is desperately trying to capture my attention.

“That’s enough.” Mr. Evans taps at the table with his fist. “Steve, the office space is there as long as you need it. I’d be more than glad to let it be used for something good. Now, I don’t want to hear another word because I want Lillian’s famous bananas Foster, and I’m not leaving without a bite.”

Mrs. Evans stays silent.