Ira, decked out in turquoise blue, met us at the door looking like a color swatch. She hugged Maggie and gave me a huge wet kiss on the cheek, which I wiped with my sleeve. She pointed her coffeepot at me. "You best not be wiping off my kisses. I don't give too many out." "Take my word for it," a guy in the kitchen hollered. "She's telling the truth." "Hey, Ira," I said. "Good to see you." Ira winked at us, smiled, smacked her gum from side to side, and then adjusted her left bosom with the V in her elbow, kind of lifting it back into place. Evidently business had been good in the last year, because they were bigger, and she looked as though she was trying to get used to them getting in her way. She pointed us to a booth. "You just missed Amos, but sit down and I'll stir up some lunch." We sat in our booth and watched the Walterboro lunch crowd scurry across the town square en route to their jobs or in search of the next pocket of gossip. Across the square sat the town hall and what looked like both Amos's truck and Pastor John's Cadillac.
What do You think about (2008) Down Where My Love Lives?
