Page 95 of Worth the Trip

That told me more than anything she’d said.

Daddy came in behind me with the last two bags. “Soup’s in the pantry. Fruit’s put away. Your son bought enough bottled water to baptize the neighborhood.”

“Hydration matters.”

“So does moderation.”

Lennox wandered in with his bowl. “Can we discuss nobody bought the cereal I asked for?”

Mama looked at what he was eating. “You have cereal.”

“This the last of it.”

“Then cherish it.”

I laughed and headed toward the guest room, where I kept enough clothes for days that started on a football field and ended somewhere I didn’t intend to arrive smelling like turf.

My shower took ten minutes.

Getting dressed took five.

Cream trousers. Dark-chocolate knit polo. Loafers. Gold chain. Watch.

I checked the mirror once.

Looked good too.

No need for false humility.

When I walked back into the living room, Mama looked up and smiled slowly.

“Where you going dressed like somebody’s answered prayer?”

Lennox nearly inhaled cereal.

“Self Ridge.”

Mama’s eyebrows lifted. “That must be some exceptional ice cream.”

“I’m more interested in the woman who made it.”

Daddy lowered the newspaper he hadn’t been reading.

Lennox put his bowl down.

Mama smiled wider. “Oh, really?”

“Don’t.”

“Do what?”

“Turn two sentences into a wedding program.”

“I didn’t say anything about a wedding.”

“You were thinking it.”

Daddy pointed toward her. “She got the look.”