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to Duck? He’s all right?”
    â€œHe’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be?”
    â€œI take it you haven’t been in the kitchen.”
    â€œUh—no.” I shoved the stack of my jeans and slacks aside. “Sit down, girl. What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
    She stared down at me, then threw her head back and examined the ceiling. “Swear ta God, I’m gonna kill me somebody.” Her gaze swiveled back to me. “Where was he?”
    â€œDuck? At work. Why?”
    â€œWhere’s the Scotch? I need a drink.” She strode into the kitchen.
    Neva and I exchanged expressions of alarm. Everyone who knew Janeece well also knew she never imbibed during the week, except on special occasions. She maintained that considering the number of drunks on her father’s side of the family, she might be genetically disposed to join their ranks. She usually restricted herself to the occasional snort anywhere from Friday after five to Sunday before six. And she stuck to it.
    She returned to the living room and passed the glass in her right hand to Neva and a ragged sheet of paper to me while she got rid of her coat.
    I scanned it, barely able to decipher her writing, which bore no resemblance to her usual elegant scrawl. “What’s this say? Duck’s been in a what?”
    Retrieving the glass, she tossed the contents down in one gulp and shuddered, her face in a knot. “Gawd, this is nasty stuff. Okay.” She pulled in a deep breath, straining the delicate fabric of her blouse. “I decided to take half a day’s leave,” she said, pacing the length of the room. “Got here and the phone was ringing off the hook, some woman saying that Duck had been in an accident in Baltimore and—”
    â€œAn accident? That’s ridiculous. And in Baltimore? What would he be doing in Baltimore?”
    â€œHow the hell would I know? Anyway, she said he was being taken to shock trauma and you should come immediately because he was critical.”
    â€œNow, that’s downright mean,” Neva said, wiggling to get more comfortable on the arm of the futon.
    â€œI called your cell phone but you didn’t answer, so I left a message. I called your aunt in the Shores, no answer. I couldn’t figure out where else you might be, so—”
    â€œIt wasn’t on,” I said. “The battery’s low, and I . . . Never mind, go ahead.”
    â€œI didn’t know what else to do, so I drove into Baltimore. At least someone would be there who knew him. I kept trying to reach you every time I got stuck at a light.”
    â€œAnd of course you couldn’t find him,” I said.
    â€œRight. I figured maybe I’d gone to the wrong hospital, so I got directions to the one on South Hanover. When I didn’t find him there, I got smart and used the Yellow Pages. Have you any idea how many hospitals there are in that city? Finally, I gave up and came home.”
    â€œOh, Janeece.” I rose and gave her a bear hug. “I’m so sorry. What else can I say? Duck will be touched that you went all that way to be with him.”
    â€œYeah. Well.” She moved from my embrace, looking wrung out. “I’m glad he’s all right.” Equanimity restored, she spotted the boxes. “What’s going on?” Her features drooped. “You’re moving out?”
    This wasn’t quite the way I’d planned to tell her. “It’s past time, Janeece. I’ve imposed on you long enough.”
    She threw herself into an easy chair. “It hasn’t been an imposition. It’s been fun. I really hate to see you go. Shit. You know what this means, don’t you? I’ll have to find somebody and get married again.”
    â€œBut you’ll still stay here, won’t you?” Neva asked her. Vacant apartments meant someone new, someone she felt might not be up to her standards.
    â€œOne never