“I’d go with flattered,” said Angie. “There’s lots of people here got pissed off covered already.” But when she really looked, she didn’t see as many thunderous expressions as she might have expected. She did see I’m the Shit That Happens and his friends, all of them looking uncharacteristically interested in the proceedings. Somebody else was making trouble for once, which might be an irritation or a relief; it was hard to tell.

“Maybe I could lend Markus some money,” Rivera said, just as the gavel thwacked on the podium.

“Sold,” said Ridley Smith. “To my little sister Meg, for three hundred fifteen dollars.”

“Eat in plain sight,” called Angie as Rivera walked off.

The only safe thing John could think to do was to leave before the bidding started on Angie’s basket, and that with as little fanfare as possible. If he was gone and Angie was in plain sight, Patty-Cake Walker’s suspicions could be put to rest for tonight, which would be a good thing for all parties.

He kissed Miss Junie’s cheek and made excuses that were at least partially true: he was near dead on his feet, and he did have a big day ahead. On Thursday five different reunions would get started, and in the first flush of enthusiasm for his new job he had said yes to every invitation. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to keep busy on the two days before the wedding and while making clear to the administration that he was willing to do his share of the work. Now he found it hard to think about giving a dinner talk on new directions in academia, but he would have to do just that, in about forty-eight hours.

Which would hopefully take his mind off both Angie and Caroline.

He saw Louanne Porter getting into her squad car as he came to the edge of the park and waved her down to get a ride home, glad to let her distract him for ten minutes with stories about things that had kept her busy: kids smoking weed out in the open, Charmaine Walker just drunk enough to think it would be a good idea to jump in the river topless, the theft of a half dozen pies from the food tent, and a night in jail for Peter Robeson, whose wife had been taken to the emergency room with a broken jaw and a black eye.

“The Jubilee isn’t much fun for you,” John said.