Chapter 42

We arrived there about the same time as my brother, Bill, his wife, Shelly, and their kids, who had come fresh from the services at First Baptist.

Introductions were made on the porch.

“Howdy,” Bill said, sticking out his hand and looking rather Southern with his bald head and sunglasses perched on the top of it. His cheek bulged with an after-service chew. He was putting on a good show for the sake of strangers, but I could tell he was in a pissy mood.

Mr. Ledbetter shook his hand. “Call me Stephen,” he said. “You’re the one who works at the furniture plant?”

“Well, yeah,” Bill said with a frown.

“I read Wiley’s book,” Mr. Ledbetter offered by way of explanation.

“Oh,” Bill said. He looked like he’d stepped into a warm turd. “We’re not big fans of Wiley’s book.”

“No, I suppose you’re not,” Mr. Ledbetter said.

Bumblebee, Mama’s golden retriever, quickly got underfoot.

“Bumple!” Noah said, burying his hands in her fur.