“Why wouldn't he drool over Suzie? It's a perfectly natural impulse for a man."

“Well, the poor wife was standing right there, for one thing."

“Was he nasty?"

“No, not nasty. Just sort of showed off like a kid trying to impress a teacher he's got a crush on. Had to tell us all about his alligator boots and how he 'knew the of boy what raised the 'gators hisself.' And he wanted us to admire their pictures they were hanging. Landscapes they'd bought in a vacant gas-station parking lot. Oh, well. Maybe they'll grow on me. It'll be a cultural experience, at the very least."

“What does he do, did he say?"

“He's retired.”

Shelley looked surprised. "Oh? Older people?”

“No. He looks about forty."

“What's he retired from?”

Jane shrugged. "No idea. Making moonshine?”

As if she'd made a cosmic announcement, her last word was followed by a trumpet blast of Biblical proportions that shook the windows.

TWo

Billy Joe Johnson ran out the front door and down the sidewalk to where his wife Tiffany was standing. Once again, she had her hair in pin curls, but with a woolen scarf on her head, peasant-style. She was wearing jeans, a lumberjack shirt, and a light jacket she was trying to keep overlapped in the front and cover her ears at the same time. She didn't have enough hands for both.

“Ain't it great, Tiff?" Billy Johnson shouted over the music. The raucous noise had resolved itself into a brass band recording of "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.”

Tiffany cupped her ear. "What? I can't hear you!”

Jane and Shelley came out onto Jane's front porch and Billy Joe waved cheerfully at them. Jane raised a limp hand in response as she and Shelley minced down the front steps to get a better look at the Johnsons' house. It was almost buried in Christmas decorations.