FOUR “I don’t know why Merle can never make it anywhere on time,” Mom fussed. I was peeling sweet potatoes, and she was making cornbread dressing. Aunt Marie had changed her name years ago, but Mom always called her “Merle” anyway.
“I should have just asked her to bring plates and napkins again,” Mom continued.
For as long as I can remember, Aunt Marie’s contributions to the family dinners had been chips, soft drinks, or utensils. This was going to be the first time she actually prepared a dish.
“Ny,” Mom fussed, “get your Aunt Merle on the phone. By the time she gets here, cabbage will be out of season.”
“I didn’t know cabbage had a season,” I said, smiling at her.
“Well, that shows how much you know. Call her cell phone.” Mom was clearly irritated now. “Tell her to get here, so we
