Chapter 112

“Lord, I never thought I’d have a grandchild that didn’t want to eat something that had a face. It’s kill or be killed, sweetie. That’s the way the world works. While these chickens might have faces, what they need is brains, and if they had brains, they wouldn’t be sitting on our plates right now, would they?”

Amelia considered this twisted pseudo logic for a long moment.

“Oh, all right,” she said at last.

She picked up a chicken leg, sniffed.

“Well, eat it, child,” Mama said.

At this point Tony had already gnawed his way through one leg, was starting on his second. He was seated beside me, paid no attention to what was going on, and was looking no worse for all his recent wear. Out of deference to the Ledbetter household, I had tucked his napkin into his shirt collar.

“Your brother likes my chicken,” Mama said.

“He’ll eat anything,” Amelia replied disparagingly. Then she glanced up at me, as if for permission or advice or both.