“Well, let them laugh. I don’t care. I love the Jubilee.” Anthea wrinkled her nose and then rubbed it with her wrist. “I plan on finding a husband this year. Or at least a really good time.”

“You’re all talk,” said her sister. “But you do make me laugh.”

Rivera wanted to know how often people hooked up at the Jubilee, and if that was the real purpose of the whole undertaking.

“Our folks got together at the Jubilee, back in the days before it was integrated and we had our own party on the other side of town,” said Marilee. “But I met my George in Atlanta, when I was a resident.”

Harriet said, “The first time I ever really talked to Tab was over my picnic basket at the Jubilee supper. That was the year I decided fried chicken was too country and I made mackerel cakes with dill sauce, but a disaster? Sick as dogs, the both of us. I thought he’d never forgive me, but as soon as he could pick himself off the bathroom floor he came by Old Roses with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. I fell pregnant with Tab Junior that same night.”

“You’re not the only one who tells a story that ends like that,” said Marilee. “Nine months from now labor and delivery will be hopping, let me tell you. We got a lot of April babies in Ogilvie, always have had.” She nudged her sister with an elbow. “Sometime I’ll get up the nerve to ask Mama if it’s just coincidence I was born in April.”

That made Harriet laugh. “Don’t be mean to your mama, Marilee. She didn’t do so bad for herself, marrying Calvin Bragg. I should never’ve married Tab, pregnant or not, no matter what Mama and Father Bruce had to say.” She shook herself slightly and gave them both a brilliant smile.

Anthea was watching her closely. She said, “You come and see me when you’re ready, Harriet, and I’ll draw up the papers for you.”

At that Harriet looked at first confused, and then surprised.

“I’m not going to divorce him,” she said. “I couldn’t do that. Mama would just about die, and Father Bruce—” She shook her head. “But I am going to get a place of my own. We can live apart and still be married.”

Angie said, “Anthea, you know the difference between a Catholic mother and a Rottweiler? Eventually the Rottweiler lets go.”

Harriet hiccupped a soft laugh, and then she put her hands over her mouth and let go, her shoulders shaking. Rivera made a face at Angie, but she was grinning, too.