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living room with pieces of her sour-cream coconut cake. I was contemplating a second piece and being teased by Isaac and Uncle WW that I was going to explode, when Emory arrived.
    “Hey, y’all,” he said, bursting through the door. Amen and a young, good-looking black man trailed behind him. Emory immediately crossed the room and pulled Elvia out of her chair. “Excuse me while I kiss my girl.” And he did, right there on the lips, in front of everyone. Being home gave my cousin a boldness that disconcerted even the unflappable Elvia.
    “Emory,” she murmured, pulling away, though, I noted,not too quickly. Her brown cheeks flushed pink.
    Everyone couldn’t help laughing at the goofy grin on Emory’s face.
    “I do believe that boy’s besotted,” Uncle WW drawled.
    “Hey, Amen,” I said, going over to my old friend. “It’s been way too long.” We hugged, then held hands and unabashedly inspected each other. She was thinner than the last time I’d seen her ten years ago and more grown-up-looking than I ever thought possible. Her hair was short and clipped close to her head in an elegant style, and her black eyes were highlighted with a professional-looking makeup job. Her neatly arched eyebrows gave her face an optimistic, slightly questioning look. She wore khaki slacks, a tan silk shirt, and a tailored houndstooth jacket.
    “You look like a million bucks!” I said.
    “Girlfriend, these days that better be before taxes, or it ain’t a compliment,” she said, her smile a sparkling ivory against dark coffee skin. “You don’t look a bit different than when you were twenty-six. I’d kill for your secret, Benni Harper.”
    “Good living and a pure heart.”
    “Lord have mercy, now I know that’s a lie.” She looked me up and down in the same way Duck had. “Emory, when are we going to get this girl out of those nasty ole jeans permanently and into some nice wool gabardine?”
    No one laughed louder at that unlikely thought than Elvia.
    Amen turned and grabbed the young man’s hand. “You remember my nephew, Quinton, don’t you?”
    “Is this little Quinton?” I exclaimed, looking up at the smooth-skinned young man wearing a shy smile. He’d grown into a long-limbed, handsome man with crisp black hair and skin the color of dark, cooked caramel. He wore a conservative sports jacket and a pale blue dress shirt. A small diamond stud sparkled in one ear.
    “Not so little anymore,” Amen said. “Quinton’sattending the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. He’s majoring in law and he’s also my campaign manager.”
    I couldn’t believe this was her nephew who ten years ago spent an afternoon with me, Emory, and Jack shooting baskets for quarters down at the high school. By the end of the match, he’d collected five bucks from each of us. “Shoot, you were twelve the last time I saw you,” I said, standing on tiptoe to hug him. “I was taller than you.”
    “And I could still beat you at basketball,” he said, smiling down at me. “Nice seeing you again.”
    “Now,” Amen said, strolling across the wide living room. “I got to take me a gander at the woman who put that silly grin on Emory’s face.” She stood in front of Elvia. “It’s Elvia, right? I’m Amen Harriet Tolliver, in case no one thought to mention me before. Girl, you are as beautiful as he claimed, which doesn’t surprise me one little bit, and I bet you’re as smart as he says, too, but I know you can’t have a lick of sense or you wouldn’t be havin’ anything to do with the likes of him.” She jerked a thumb at a still-grinning Emory.
    Elvia stood there for a moment, not certain how to react. My friend was actually an incredibly shy person, and I knew all this attention was killing her inside. Elvia stuck out her small hand. “Nice to meet . . .”
    “Oh, go on,” Amen said, brushing her hand away and pulling her into a hug. “I was just teasin’ you. You’re family as far as I’m concerned.