Read Findings for Free Online Page B

said, “She’s apparently not going to bring him home to meet us any time soon. Let’s fake an urgent business trip to Atlanta.” So they’d done just that, calling Faye on her cell phone when they got close to town and offering to take her and Ross out to dinner.
    Faye had known precisely what they were up to. So, probably, had Ross, but they had been very gracious to a meddling old couple, and the four of them had enjoyed a fine evening out on the town.
    Ross had made a most favorable impression. Douglass had decided that Faye should marry him immediately, because he had all the qualities men want in their daughters’ husbands. He was intelligent, respectful to his elders, financially successful, and he treated Faye like a queen. Emma agreed with her husband’s assessment in all of these areas and, as a woman, she would have added that Ross looked like an African god. She thought Faye could be happy with Ross.
    But then there was the question of Joe. Douglass had hooted at the idea that his pseudo-daughter should marry this man who needed her help just to get his driver’s license. Faye didn’t even seem to notice that her steadfast friend was a man—and a man who had put her on a pedestal that was too high even for a physical specimen like Joe to climb. This proved that even brilliant women could be oblivious to bare facts.
    When it came to husband material, Emma wasn’t so sure that Joe should be dismissed out of hand. He couldn’t offer financial stability, it was true, but Faye had been taking care of herself for many years and she didn’t seem much the worse for wear. Like Ross, he treated her like a queen, so that race was a dead heat. He couldn’t give Faye the deep, scholarly conversation that Ross’ wife would enjoy, but Emma believed that only a few people were blessed enough to meet their soulmates. And Joe owned the most beautiful soul she’d ever seen in a man, setting aside her late husband.
    Emma had planned to ask Joe to sit with her and Faye in the family pew, until Ross had shown up. Not wanting to put a pseudo-mother’s stamp of approval on one man or the other, she had taken the no-action alternative. Neither man was honored with an invitation to sit beside Faye. They weren’t told where to sit at all.
    Emma didn’t have eyes in the back of her head, but she’d sneaked a look in that second pew as she took her long widow’s walk to the front of the sanctuary. Both men were there, sitting broad shoulder to broad shoulder. Now they sat together behind Faye, giving her their simple physical presence, which was the same support Faye was giving Emma.
    If Joe and Ross felt a sense of competition, it was not evident. They didn’t glare at each other or pull away when the fact of a crowded pew forced them to touch each other. Emma thought that, in other circumstances, they might have been friends. Unlikely friends, but friends all the same.
    Sooner or later, Faye would have to choose between them. Or maybe she wouldn’t choose either of them. Emma wished she could tell Faye what choice to make, but she couldn’t. This race was too close to call.
    ***
    Emma had never seen so much food in her life. Which was saying something, since she’d lived all her life in the South and she had attended southern funerals before. She didn’t know about the rest of the country, but she sensed that her friends and neighbors monitored the obituary pages, looking for the name of someone they knew, however vaguely. When a familiar name surfaced, these people flipped their oven switches to “Preheat” and started whipping up delicacies.
    She recognized Magda’s summer squash soufflé, and she knew that the sheriff grew a dense forest of zucchini every summer, so that their deep freeze could be well-stocked with critical supplies in case somebody died. A generous bowl of his smoked mullet spread sat in the place of honor on Emma’s coffee table, surrounded by saltine crackers.
    Joe had contributed the pot