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end and their ears turned inside out And the major house repairs were on hold, waiting for the governor of California to declare San Carmelita a disaster zone and Please the relief funds.
    “Not me and not Vidalia,” Gran said. “It’s your baby sister, Atlanta, who hightailed it outta here first thing this mornin’ on a plane headed in your direction. I would’ve warned you sooner, but your mama just told me about it.”
    Savannah didn’t have to utilize any special detecting; skills to figure out why neither her mom nor Atlanta had phoned ahead to announce the visit. In spite of the fact that Shirley Reid had born nine children, naming them after cities in Georgia, mothering wasn’t high on the list of her priorities. It fell well below square dancing, Jack Daniels, turquoise and silver jewelry, and her favorite stool—third from the end, right below the autographed picture of Elvis—at Sam’s Honky Tonk.
    Mama Reid would be happy to be rid of the temperamental teenager for a while.
    Over the years, Big Sis Savannah and Gran had done most of the mothering of the Reid brood. Why should anything change at this late date? Savannah asked herself.
    “You there, hon?” Gran said, her voice soft with concern.
    “Right here, Gran.” Savannah reached for a spoon to stir the grits that were bubbling on the stove. “I’m just shocked into silence. I mean, I’m always glad to entertain a family member, but... Atlanta. She’s a bit of a... challenge... p. c. speaking, that is.”
    “Eh, forget the p. c. nonsense. She’s a pain in the hind end, that one. Don’t let her walk all over you, darlin’.”
    “That’ll be the day.”
    Savannah thanked her grandmother and said goodbye. As she hung up the phone, Tammy said, “So, when exactly is that day? The day you aren’t going to let your spoiled baby sister take advantage of you, that is.”
    “Today,” she replied with a weary sigh. “There oughta be a law against getting news like that before breakfast, with only one cup of coffee in your bloodstream. And while they’re making rules, there should be another one about kid sisters showing up unannounced and uninvited. They oughta be required to give you a thirty-day notice so that you can move.”
    She chug-a-lugged another cup of coffee, then added, “And I say that with the deepest affection for Atlanta and all of my adorable siblings.”
    Tammy nodded. “Gotcha. Don’t you sometimes wonder if you’re ever going to get them all raised?”
    “Naw, I gave up on that dream long ago. They’re perpetual juveniles. Dysfunctional to infinity.”
    Tammy studied Savannah thoughtfully as she continued her food preparations. “How about you?” she asked. “You had the same parents—or lack of parenting—that they had. Plus you had the additional burden of being the eldest and all those responsibilities. Why aren’t you dysfunctional?”
    Savannah laughed and broke an egg into the skillet. “What makes you think I’m not?”
    “You’re one of the most together ladies I know.”
    “That’s pathetic, Tam. Obviously, you’ve had lousy role models. Besides, I don’t have time to be dysfunctional. I can hardly function as it is.”
    The sound of a car’s horn blasted, just outside the kitchen door. Savannah left the eggs frying to take a look at her driveway. “A Yellow cab,” she said. “Gee, we must have company. Who do you suppose it is?”
    As she turned down the heat under her breakfast and made her way out the kitchen door with Tammy behind her, Savannah felt a flood of contradictory emotions, ranging from warm and fuzzy, to seriously irked. The strongest was guilt... guilt that she wasn’t happier to see her own flesh and blood arriving on her doorstep. But she slapped a pseudo-smile across her face and hurried to the taxi, her furry slippers flapping on the cement driveway.
    The back door of the cab swung open and out came a guitar case, followed by an enormous garment bag… and a positively