After breakfast the following morning, we piled into the Ledbetter’s gold-colored Grand Jeep Cherokee. (Mrs. Ledbetter was anxious to point out that it was some “limited edition” something or other with this and that whoopty-doopty features, but my eyes glazed over.)
“Where are we going?” I asked again.
“Oh, Willis, let a girl have her fun!” Mrs. Ledbetter exclaimed from the front seat. “We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“I’m not big on surprises, Eudora.”
“You’ll be big on this one, Wilfred, I can assure you. Stephen, do mind the little pedestrian over there. Why anyone would walk in this dreadful cold, I’m sure I don’t know, but they don’t need you running over them, dear.”
“He’s on the sidewalk,” Mr. Ledbetter said crossly.
“Have a care, dear. Accidents happen. We don’t want to get
