Mama keeps her head bowed and continues. “Lord, give special attention to my sweet Giselle, who recently got a book agent when I spent thousands of dollars to send her to college to be a scientist. She’s writing romance about aliens. Dear Lord, I’m sure there’s no extramarital sex in it. She would never do that. Please, Father, let her finish her doctorate. I’ve invested enough money to retire in Boca, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Ugh. I’m going to finish school, and I have plenty of scholarships to help with my education. She’s still salty. And she’d never live in Boca! It’s too far away from us.

Elena mouths sex and makes a hole with one hand, then pokes her index finger inside with the other. Aunt Clara, who’s since read my book and knows there’s sex, chokes on a sip of tea, then dashes off to the kitchen.

Mama took my news of my writing with a straight, slightly disapproving face when I told her, but when my sister designs sexy lingerie, there’s not a whole lot she can say—except for now—in her passive-aggressive mama-prayer kind of way. I was shocked yet thrilled to hear from Robert on Friday. I never would have dreamed of seeking out an agent at this point, but with Myrtle’s encouragement over the past months, I discovered I want Vureck and Kate’s story out in the world.

“Father, thank you for our guests today, Dr. Benson and Devon.”

Devon’s hand tightens on my knee. He was nervous this morning when we got ready to come to Mama’s. His head is bowed, eyes shut, and I’m tempted to lean over and kiss him. Instead, I lean into his neck, inhaling his scent. He peeks at me with one eye and gives me a look that says, Behave. He admitted he’s never gone to lunch with a girlfriend’s family.

“We pray that Dr. Benson finds solace and comfort in the absence of her mother. Guide and help her navigate this world. Let us be a light for her. Let us find her a good husband.”

I peek over at Susan—she insisted we all call her that—but Mama likes the doctor status. Eyes shut, Susan wears a slightly rueful expression. Sorry, Susan.

“For Devon, Lord, we ask that you bless his football season along with Jack. I’ve never seen a team that needs a Super Bowl more. They’ve come in second the last two years, and it’s embarrassing for them. Help them be fast and quick and defeat their opponents with the vengeance of your mighty angels.”

Eyes clamped shut, Jack’s lips twitch, while Elena mimes throwing a football to me, and I pretend to catch it. Topher does the touchdown motion. Devon has one eye open and shakes his head at us. I sneak a kiss, just a peck, and he tries to push me off as quietly as possible. He darts a glance at Mama—Behave or else, his eyes say—so I stop, biting back my laughter. I can’t help it. I’m crazy in love with him.

“Lord, be with Devon and Giselle. Forgive them for living together before marriage. She assures me they are not having sex. You know her heart and his. Help them as they date. Give him patience and gentleness. He will need it. Also give him the perseverance to not be tempted by her.”

I glare at Mama. She’s gone too far. Elena rocks in her chair and holds her stomach to keep from laughing. I flip her off, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“Keep her chaste and sweet until the day she walks down the aisle.”

Devon whips his hand off my knee—Ah, so that one got to you, huh?—and I snatch it back just as Elena throws a black-eyed pea at me and hits me on the cheek. I grab a roll and toss it at her head. It bounces off her and lands on the floor, just as Aunt Clara tiptoes back in and takes her seat.

“Finally, Father, bless my sister.”

Aunt Clara throws her hands up in a “give it to me” motion.

“She’s in love with a man years younger than her and is scared to tell us, when the whole town already knows he sneaks in her back door every night.”

She means Aunt Clara’s literal back door and not the other kind.

“I pray she sees the light and makes an honest man of Scotty—who isn’t here because she won’t invite him. Amen.”

“Amen!” Elena says and smiles. “Wonderful prayer, Mama.”

“Indeed,” I mutter.

“I know,” Mama says sweetly. “Now, pass the fried chicken around.”

“This is a beautiful bouquet on the table,” I murmur as I hand the basket of rolls over to Devon. “Red roses aren’t your usual.”

“Didn’t see a reason to let them go to waste,” she replies as she takes the bowl of green beans and spoons some on her plate. “I sent all the flowers from your party to the assisted-living facility, so they came in handy.”

Aunt Clara titters. “Lance brought them by yesterday. Wanted to woo your mama.” She drags out the word until it’s wooooooo.

Looks like I might have created a monster with Mr. Pig. “How sweet of him,” I say and picture Mama and him together—nope, can’t do it.

“He asked her out,” Aunt Clara tosses in. “She said no, and he said he’d be back with more flowers. I can’t wait!”

“I told him I don’t date and I didn’t want to see him anymore at my door,” she replies primly.

Elena smirks. “Hard to avoid him when he owns the Piggly Wiggly. Don’t you go every other day? You still have those pink handcuffs in your room?” Elena asks me.

“Top dresser drawer,” I say with a smug smile. “Might be some leftover twine in the garage from where we tied up those tomatoes. Lance likes bondage, Mama.”

“Eat your chicken,” she says, never batting an eye. “We have guests.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Susan says, smiling carefully, and for a brief second I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have invited her, but it felt like she needed some cheering up. And if we’re going to be friends, she might as well know my family is insane. “I haven’t had a good home-cooked meal in a while,” she continues.

“You need a man to cook for, dear. How old are you?” Mama asks.

“Thirty-five,” she says hesitantly.

“Still young enough,” Mama says with a wave. “They’ve got those IVF things now. Miracle babies. Tamara Wilkes had triplets using fertility drugs. Even if we can’t find you a man . . . oh my . . . Mike would be perfect. Let me give him a call right—”

“No, Mama,” I say firmly. “Let’s eat together.”

She sighs, settling back in her seat at the head of the table as she cocks her head at Susan, sizing her up. “There’s also sperm banks if you don’t like men. Topher is gay.”

“I am?” He chuckles. “Yep.”

Mama motions at all of us. “You’d have help. I’d love to watch your triplets.”

Susan pales.

I hand her the plate of chicken. “We’re having chocolate pie for dessert. I’ll make sure you take some home.”

Later, while Elena and I clean the kitchen, Mama sits with Devon and Susan, asking the newcomers a million questions. Devon manages to pull himself away, inch by inch, as he gradually gets up and shuffles his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

“You okay?” I ask, handing him a dried plate to put up in the cabinet.

He shakes his head, a harried look on his face. “The woman is terrifying. I told her about my dad before I knew what was happening. She just sucked it out of me. She wants to meet him.”