where she kept cash and credit card receipts, the golden-wedding-anniversary couple returned. Judith hurried to meet them before they headed upstairs. The seafood restaurant on the bay had been excellent; their room was very comfortable; they had no idea what to expect of the city, never before having gone farther from Memphis than Little Rock, where their son and his family lived. After more than fifteen years of innkeeping, Judith could ask questions, hear answers, make appropriate responses, and establish rapport while her brain was otherwise engaged. None of her guests seemed to realize she wasn’t really listening. According to Renie, Judith was so adept at exuding warmth—and telling lies when the need arose—that she could probably fool Saint Peter when she arrived at heaven’s Pearly Gates.
As soon as the Tennessee couple headed upstairs, Judith went back to the kitchen, where Mike was pouring himself a glass of milk.
“Are the boys asleep?” she asked.
“They should be,” Mike replied, closing the fridge door. “They went on a sugar high after Gee-Gee let them plunder her box of chocolates. She never let me do that. Then she told them Santa Claus got drunk, fell off the roof, and killed himself. It took Kris and me ten minutes to make them stop crying.”
Judith shook her head in bewilderment. “I honestly never know when Mother is genuinely gaga or just putting me on.”
Mike shrugged. “She’s earned the right to be muddled. The boys like her. Maybe they sense she’s got a good heart.”
Judith shot her son a hard look. “A strong heart, anyway.”
“Ma…” The single word conveyed reproach.
“I know,” Judith responded. “I get frustrated. I’m glad the boys have a great-grandmother. You got shortchanged with grandparents. Only Mother was there for you—and for me. My father died too young.” Feeling her eyes grow moist, she turned away, wishing as she often did that Donald Grover wasn’t such a distant, yet dear, memory. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, and turned around to hug her son. “Your boys are such darlings. I hope they’re having fun.”
Mike laughed. “They are,” he said as Judith moved out of his embrace. “But they’re worn out. After they watched the movie with Willie in action, they wished he was still here. It’s hard for them to understand that thirty years later, Willie doesn’t look like the guy on the screen.”
“He may dye his hair and he’s got wrinkles, but he seemed very fit. I don’t remember his movies. I suppose his fans would recognize him.”
Mike took a big drink of milk. He nodded—and shrugged. “Justin told them that Willie couldn’t be exactly like the movie version and Kristin reminded them that the most fun would be Halloween. That made up for missing Willie.”
“Good.” Judith tried to sound pleased rather than guilty about being unable to share the entire holiday with the children.
“They’ll have a grand time.”
Mike drained the glass. “It’ll be huge. Is it so popular that you have to reserve a place on the avenue to watch the parade?”
“No,” Judith replied. “But get there early if you want a seat outside.”
Mike looked puzzled. “We’ll walk with the kids. You can’t stand around too long on your bum hip. Should we leave first to get a table for you?”
“Ah…I meant if you want to drive and not walk up the Counterbalance.”
“It’s only three blocks,” Mike said. “Living at the summit, we walk uphill a lot. The boys are so excited they’ll practically fly there.”
“Oh. Of course.” Judith couldn’t look Mike in the eye. “Walking isn’t easy for people with hip problems.” She had to reveal her travel plans, but hesitated, playing for time to figure out how to attend at least part of the parade. Maybe Renie or Joe would have some advice. “Where’s your father?” she asked.
Mike laughed. “He dozed off about twenty minutes into Extrema Escrima, leaving Willie at the mercy of a Mongol horde.”
“I didn’t know Willie made historical films. Was Genghis Khan after him?”
“No.” Mike took a couple of snickerdoodles out of the sheep-shaped cookie jar on the kitchen table. “These Mongols were part of a motorcycle club from Southern California.”
“I hope the bikers won,” Judith murmured. “It’s after ten, so I’m going to lock up. The guests who are still out on the town will have to use their keys. Wake your father so he can go to bed.”
“Will do.” Mike glanced at the dishwasher. “I almost forgot—Kris told me to unload that thing when the green light came on.”
“I’ll do it,” Judith