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the courthouse and promised to honor and obey him.
    “I still remember the day I made up my mind to marry Luther. It was a hot morning. July, I believe. I was getting everything ready to open the shop, when the Old Man caught me by myself and pushed me to a corner where some nets were stacked. ‘I put a lot of money into you, girlie, and it’s time to pay up,’ he said. The bacon my mama had made him was still fresh on his breath. When I heard his zipper go down, my vocal cords dried up. I just…never thought it’d go that far. And my poor mama…just inside the store putting money in his cash register. If only I could’ve done…”
    She squeezed my hand until the knuckles ached, her gazeset far above the pink and yellow roses beyond the window. We both jumped at the slap of the screened kitchen door.
    “We’re not having breakfast this morning?” Richard stared at the empty frying pan.
    Miss Claudia quickly released my hands and dabbed the sweat beads on her forehead with a nearby napkin. A ghostly white imprint remained on my fingers.
    “Umm…yeah, I’m getting a late start this morning.” I returned to my proper place at the frying pan and began melting the butter. Imagining the black coils as Old Man Maxwell’s beard, I slammed the pan on the eye of the stove. The loud bang made Richard turn towards me.
    Miss Claudia casually patted her hair like she had walked through a gust of wind and smiled. “Sleep good?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I did.” Richard joined her at the table and went over all the drama that had taken place in Wiregrass the night before—knowledge thanks to the police scanner that ran constantly in his garage apartment. “You never know when a good lawyer might be needed,” he reminded us this morning, like he did every time he reported a car wreck or burglary scoop learned from his faithful mechanical friend.
    I eyed Miss Claudia real close, trying to think of some question to ask Richard in case she needed more time to gather herself. She gracefully propped her left hand on her chin. While Richard told of a fire downtown, she nodded her head in agreement, and the white rock on her left hand sparkled. He never realized she was sitting at the table for the first time since her fall. He just continued his 911 report, spoke of his need of prescription refills, and asked about his doctor’s appointment for the day. “Remember they changed the appointment to three o’clock,” Miss Claudia said with a point of her finger. The lady of the house was back where she belonged.

Four
    A fter repeated attempts to get me to see a lawyer, Miss Claudia finally set up a meeting with the one she used. I knew I had to go meet with him as soon as Richard offered to represent me. Miss Claudia winked when Richard made the offer over a plate of chicken and dumplings. A wink similar to Patricia’s when one of the third-graders reports a tall tale in the cafeteria. Albeit, my lawyer couldn’t have been more than twenty-nine, my own daughter’s age. Miss Claudia insisted he was top-flight. Like Patricia, he had a line of framed degrees decorating his fancy downtown office. The baby-faced man with slicked-back blonde hair addressed me as Mrs. Jacobs and made me feel confident that quick action would be taken. While he rattled on about no-fault, unfit parenting, and quick proceedings, all I could think of was my ailing car out in the parking lot. The pair of pliers had become a trusty companion, but sooner or later that switch would need replacing. He took a breath, and I jumped at the chance to ask the cost. He simply waved his hand and continued talking pending divorce.
    Every evening when I stepped inside the trailer, the first thing I’d see was the white phone cord spring from behind the kitchen wall. Cher told me she was talking with Laurel, her first friend in Wiregrass. The girl was a year older than Cher. Her bright blonde hair and a hint of too much eye shadow made me question what kind of girl