Chapter 4: The Pie

On Saturday at noon a silver sedan pulled into the driveway, and Devin's mother got out holding a pie in both hands.

She had driven two hours from Savannah without calling first.

My mother saw her through the front window and said, "Everyone stay where you are."

Darek was at our kitchen table, where he had spent most of the morning eating my mother's leftovers and saying very little.

My father was beside him, and two aunts and my cousin were in the next room pretending to fold napkins.

The doorbell rang.

I opened it myself.

"Ansley, sweetheart." Devin's mother kissed the air next to my cheek. "I brought pecan, your favorite."

"I like apple," I said.

"Do you?" She stepped past me into the hall. "Then I'll remember."

She stopped in the kitchen doorway and saw Darek.

"Darek Dunne," she said. "Does Devin know you're here?"

"No, ma'am."

"I see." She set the pie on the counter and smoothed her blouse. "Well. Let's all be adults about this."

My mother pulled out a chair for her. "Sit, please."

"I'll stand. I won't be long."

She turned to me, and her face went soft.

"Ansley, Devin called me from Nashville. He's so upset."

"Is he?"

"He didn't mean to hurt you. You know how the three of them are with that silly game."

"I know that he typed in the result," I said. "Three days early."

She didn't blink at that.

"Men do foolish things before a wedding," she said. "His father took a fishing trip with his old friends the week before ours, and I let it go."

"Did his old friends share a hotel suite with him?"

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