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give up all the details.
    “Twenty minutes!” I yelled at Nonnie’s back as she headed out the door to her golf cart bedecked in metallic and fringe. The golf cart had at one time been Daddy’s. He’d bought it when he’d taken up golfing to cure stress, and had given it to Nonnie after breaking his seven-iron over his knee on the fourteenth tee.
     
    xxx
     
    Forty-five minutes later we’d piled into Nonnie’s big SUV, me at the wheel, Nonnie riding shotgun in the passenger seat, Tally and Mama were in the back with the necessary supplies.
    “Who is it now?” Mama finally asked as I turned onto the highway toward town and Fae Lynn’s house.
    “Brandy,” I replied grimly.
    “Well, hell,” Nonnie huffed, “I swear, I’ve told all you girls a hundred times. Any man that walks around calling every female darlin,’ including his own mama, is probably screwing them too. They can’t be trusted. I cannot believe I had to put that skunk in a trash bag after I warned her ass.” Nonnie clapped her hands over her mouth in shock at her bawdiness, then giggled with glee. Let me reiterate one more time, she’s never been the same since the pacemaker.
    “Oh, Nonnie, it wouldn’t matter who it was, you’d have gotten a skunk for any one of us girls, no questions asked,” Tally said . It was true.
    There was an unwritten, unmentioned code of the South that forced women of all ages to set aside petty differences to help out one of their own, not including white trash or the uppity, although the lines had been stretched a time or two. When a sister of the South needed support, that icon that encompasses all things southern and all things female reared its genteel head. The backbone of the steel magnolia snapped into place, and duty deferred to grievances past and squabbles present.
    We parked at Fae Lynn’s beside a silver Lexus, a green minivan, and a red Mustang. We opened the door as Fae Lynn’s husband, Scott, came out, shoving his arms into a Carhartt barn jacket.
    “I don’t want any part of this,” he muttered, shaking his head. He zipped his jacket over his stomach softened by beer and his wife’s cooking. “Y’all are crazy when you get like this. If Fae Lynn calls me one more time to bail y’all out, I’m not speaking to any of you until Christmas.”
    “Cool down, sugar,” Tally retorted, “Lilly’s back. You know she can talk any officer out of arresting us.”
    Scott eyed me suspiciously, “I’ve heard. I just hope you don’t have to prove it.”
    “Tell you what Scotty, go stay with Lloyd and come back tomorrow morning before you have to be at the station. Everything will be fine,” I assured him with a wink. He shook his head skeptically but walked away toward his truck.
    “Isn’t he in a twist,” Tally noted as we followed the sound of a blender toward the kitchen and the beginning of tonight’s entertainment.
    Ever kind, even if newly improper, Nonnie chastised Tally, “Mind your manners. He’s just upset he’s missing dinner.” Mama rolled her eyes and strolled ahead down the hall.
    “Let’s take care of business. I’ve got a rug being delivered at six a.m.”
    We entered the kitchen to the scent of limes and baking chocolate. In the midst of five women sat a petite female with once mousy brown hair, now streaked with strategic highlights. Tear- stained cheeks held little remnants of once artfully applied makeup. The tears had ruined the mascara so necessary to southern beauty. Lipstick had been bitten off. Brandy’s small shoulders shook with sobs as she hiccupped and blubbered on, “Adam had such good hair. He took me to meet his mama. He said I was the perfect woman to have his children. Why would he do this?”
    “Well,” drawled a tall, plump, dark-haired beauty of Indian descent, “he is from Texas, and you know what they say… steers and queers.”
    “Hush, Charlotte. Everything’s supposed to be bigger and better too,” said a busty bl ond of barroom hair