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house our great-grandmother had lived in, which happened to be located across from Nonnie and Poppa Joe.
    Since I’d selfishly been involved in my own life disaster, I hadn’t poked Tally. And my mother had told me not to worry too much. Lately, according to phone calls, she’d been helping Nonnie weed the garden and distracting everyone. She’d managed to dodge all the questions about her decision to quit , and since we had all breathed a sigh of relief when she started eating again and gained the ten pounds that happened to make her even more beautiful than before, we’d all agreed to let the story come out when Tally wanted it to. Tally was excellent at not talking about something she didn’t want to, unlike me who couldn’t keep a secret if my life depended on it. One look or long pause from Mama and I would crack.
    Tally happened to be cursed with being not only beautiful, but also funny and friendly, of the brick-wall conversation variety. That meant that men tripped over themselves to get a glimpse , and if they could get close enough , they just fell all over themselves in love. Tally also happened to be an attention-whore, so this worked out pretty well for all parties involved. Consequently, she’d been systematically going through the eligible dating po ol of Brooks and citing the not-so- eligible to riot, much to the chagrin of their wives. Daddy had finally gotten fed up and told her she better put her money to good use. So she had bought the old department store downtown and converted it into a restaurant.
    As much as she liked to lead people down the path that led them to believe she was a ditz, she actually had a really good head for business. In fact, she’d managed to put herself through business school while modeling, and Mama and Daddy were amused over the fact that they hadn’t had to pay for her higher education. Apparently, she had decided she was going to use her business degree, with an emphasis in finance, after all.
    “Pass the gravy,” Poppa Joe leaned over toward me. I handed him the bowl of artery-clogging, down-home goodness.
    “Pass the salad,” Daddy said from my left, and I reached on my right to grab the bowl from Nonnie.
    “You two let the girl get herself something to eat. She looks like she could use a cookie or two. Go ahead and eat what’s on your side of the table, or don’t eat at all.” Poppa Joe promptly reached across to her plate and took it from her. She regarded him sternly and he shrugged.
    “It’s on my side.”
    “You be nice to me or you’ll be lucky if you ever eat again.” He chuckled and relinquished the plate. We passed dishes and tidbits of town talk around the table, typical of our family dinners.
    “What’s for dessert?” Tally asked, leaning back and patting her once emaciated belly.
    “Homemade ice cream and strawberry shortcake,” Nonnie answered proudly. Tally sighed and faux-swooned dramatically.
    “Nonnie, I love you.” Nonnie kissed her forehead as she stood to go to the kitchen.
    After we’d all stuffed ourselves with meatballs and mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls and bacon-laced green beans, Tally and I helped Mama and Nonnie with the dishes while Daddy and Poppa Joe turned on a baseball game. While we worked, they caught me up on who was getting married and having babies and being cheated. After we finished, Tally and I drove our respective cars across the road , and she helped me unload my overnight bag, leaving the big stuff for tomorrow. I drank in the sultry night, blanketed by stars and scented with my great-grandmother’s honeysuckle vine and listened to the chirp of a whippoorwill. All the comforts of my childhood were here. So much better than the sound of cars on a big Texas access road. We walked in the house , and Tally set my bags in the biggest of the three bedrooms.
    “You gave me the big room?” I asked, touched.
    “Smallest closet,” she grinned and grabbed me in a big hug. “So glad you’re