Chapter 22

“Thank you, Sir. For the record, David makes as me happy as I do him, and we’re in it for the long haul.”

The three of us sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, collecting our thoughts and, in their case, regaining control of their emotions, until Mr. Majors broke the spell, saying, “I think we’d better get back to the dinner table.”

“Hold that thought,” I said.

I went into the bathroom, found a facecloth, and dampened it; then I carried it back into the bedroom and handed it to David. “One look at your face and your mom will know you’ve been crying.”

He wiped his face thoroughly, handed the cloth to his father, and said, “You need to use this too.”

We walked back down the hallway to the dining room and resumed our places at the table as though nothing had happened. When I was seated, I said, “Mrs. Majors, I think I’m ready for some of that pecan pie now, if you don’t mind.”

“With or without whipped cream?”

“With, if you please.”

“Coming right up,” she said.