“Be that as it may,” Miss Zula said, “you boys will have to come back another time to argue literary theory.” She used her cane to lever herself to a standing position, giving one of her nephews a look that said she did not want, and would not welcome, his help. “Miss Junie asked me to come by early, and you know how she is before a party.”

“I hope you will come back,” Rivera said. “I’d like to hear more of this.”

“She means it,” Tony added. “If it’s a debate you want, Rivera is your girl.”

On the way out Marilee and Anthea Bragg pulled Angie aside.

“Auntie Zula is a lot stronger than Daddy gives her credit for,” said Marilee. “I happen to know that for a fact, as I’ve been her physician for the last six months, since Daddy cut back on his practice.”

“They’re just protective,” added Marilee. “But the good Lord never put a woman more capable of speaking her mind on this earth. You make Auntie unhappy or push her too hard and you’ll hear about it.”

Miss Maddie patted Angie on the cheek and smiled. “Aren’t those boys something? I blame Zula for reading philosophy to them when they were still in diapers. Logical fallacies.” She gave a delighted laugh. “Don’t you be worrying about our nephews. They do like to growl but they don’t hardly ever bite. Now, I’m looking forward to Junie Rose’s birthday party. I expect to see y’all there, and so does Zula.”

Caroline said, “You can’t spend the entire weekend working.” And: “It will be fun.”

Neither of those things was strictly true, but there was another fact, a bigger one that John didn’t have to hear her say. Junie Rose’s seventy-fifth birthday party wasn’t something a man could just stay away from. Not if he wanted to stay on good terms with the Rose girls and the rest of the population of Ogilvie, most especially Miss Zula Bragg, who was Junie Rose’s closest friend.

Mostly John didn’t mind these kind of family parties and hadn’t been worried about this one until he picked up Caroline from her wedding dress fitting. For the entire ten-minute drive, she had anticipated disaster in vivid detail.

“… a nice cardigan, the kind she likes, pink. The card’s right here for you to sign.”

John put the car in park and turned to her. “I got her a card, and a present. You don’t have to do my shopping for me, you know.”

Caroline blinked at him. “You got Mama a present?”

“And a card.”

He watched her face as pleasant surprise gave way to worry. “What ever did you get her?”