“Mayor,” he said as a greeting.Laying down her knife and fork, Henrietta Spencer waved the deputy onto the wooden porch. “Come on up, Ted,” she said with a tolerant smile. “I’m just finishing dinner. There’s plenty of fried chicken and cornbread if you’d like some.”“No, thanks, Your Honor, I ate before my shift,” the man said, stepping onto the porch and respectfully removing his hat.In the corner, an electric bug-zapper crackled occasionally, and from inside the house came the soft melodious music of Hank Williams singing about home and a lost love.Wiping her mouth clean on a napkin, Mayor Spencer politely gestured toward a pitcher covered with condensation. “Fair enough, how about some iced tea?”“Well, now, that’s different.” Deputy Ted Ellison grinned and took a chair. Pouring himself a glass, the man raised it, then paused. “Ah, Madam Mayor, this isn’t—”“No, Ted, it is not Long Island Iced Tea.” She chuckled. “I obey the edict about no drinking alcohol before a Harvest the same as everybody else.
