He picked up the single piece of paper and adjusted his reading glasses. My stomach growled loudly. Marty stared at me. Betsy actually giggled. It wasn't fair to be hungry and not be able to swallow a bread crumb. Drew might have to pay for that as well as his philandering.

"Will you get on with it? I want a slice of that sour-cream pound cake before it's all gone," Marty said impatiently.

"It won't take long," the lawyer repeated. Then he began reading aloud. "Hello, you three girls. This is my letter to you, and if Steven is reading it, then I'm dead. It'll be over soon, and you can all go home, and two of you can rejoice that you don't have to deal with my house and all its contents."

Billy Lee chuckled for the first time all day.

Marty shot him and me both one of her famous "drop dead" looks.

I fired one right back at her and eased down gently into a kiddy-sized chair and hoped it didn't fold with me. Surprisingly enough, it was sturdier than it looked.

Steven McRae went on. "First of all, I chose this room because it's where I taught Sunday school for the past sixty years. Not that it makes a bit of difference, but even as I write this, I can hear Marty whining and Betsy refusing to sit in one of the little chairs.

"You've all three been named after me, so I couldn't decide to leave my belongings simply to the one who had my name. I dislike all three of you, but I have to be honest and say that I dislike Trudy the least. At least she doesn't hide from me in the grocery store, so I'm leaving it all to her. Lock, stock, and barrel. Makes it right simple. If she's of a mind to give you other two a piece of my jewelry or a keepsake, then she can do it with my blessings. If not, then so be it. Go home and pout. I really don't care. ... .. . . . . . . . . . . . ...

"And it is signed, notarized, and witnessed, so it is legal," Steven McRae concluded. "Mrs. Williams, this file contains your copy of her will and all her financial records. If you have any questions, she has paid my firm a retaining fee for the next thirty days to render any help you need, so feel free to call"

"Thank God. Let's go home, Betsy," Marty said.

Betsy shot me another hateful look. "Good luck."

..You are welcome to have anything you want." The whole time I was making the offer, I was wondering if Aunt Gert still kept arsenic under the kitchen sink to kill field rats.

"I wouldn't be caught taking out the garbage in any of that dime-store jewelry," Marty said.

"I don't want a single thing. You need me to sign anything to make that legal?" Betsy said.

Mr. McRae headed toward the door. "No, that's between you and Mrs. Williams"

"Then, Trudy, get this straight. We don't want anything, but by the same token we don't want you to be callin' on us to help clean out that junky place," Betsy said.

They were hurrying to the door when I said, "I won't ask either of you for help. You've done enough already. And thank you, Mr. McRae"

Billy Lee had a big grin on his face, and his eyes twinkled. Why was he so amused now? Minutes before, he had been bewailing the fact that there was too much merriment going on in the fellowship hall, suggesting that everyone in Johnston County should be tearing at their hair and gathering ashes to put on their sackcloth clothing because Aunt Gert had died.

"So what are you going to do with the old place?" Billy asked.

I made the decision. "I'm going to live there"

I now owned a piece of property in Tishomingo, Oklahoma, lock, stock, and barrel. A two-story house with peeling paint, a sagging front porch, no air-conditioning, and an odd nextdoor neighbor.

His face registered pure shock. "Is Drew moving in with you?"

"No, he is not. But I suppose I'll be seeing you, since we'll be neighbors."

"Probably so." He grinned.

I walked through the fellowship hall, ignored Betsy when she called out my name, and continued right out the door without a backward glance. She didn't follow, but I hurried to my car in case she changed her mind. Twenty years of marriage had just burned to the ground. Sadness, weeping, anger, and pain were all rolled into one big unhealthy ball of raw nerves.

I could stay with Drew. That was an option and the easiest one. After all, it wasn't a new thing he'd done. But I couldn't! My pride was already in ashes. Staying would push my dignity right down there among them.

I drove slowly because there were little red dots flashing in front of my eyes. I didn't know if severe anger could produce a heart attack or a stroke, and there were things I had to do before I dropped dead. I pulled up in the yard and stared at the sprawling ranch-style house. It had been my home for more than twenty years, and I'd raised Crystal there. How could I entertain notions of leaving it?

I got out of the Impala, opened the front door of the house, and headed down the hallway to the master suite. I opened my closet and pulled the biggest suitcase I owned from the top shelf, then stood there in front of the rack of clothing while tears dripped from my cheeks onto the lapels of my black jacket.

What did I take, and what did I leave behind? I couldn't decide, but I was hungry, so I went to the kitchen, made myself a banana and strawberry smoothie, and hit the message button on the phone. Betsy wanted to know why I'd been so rude at the dinner. Marty said that she should come over to my house and kick my butt for being so hateful at a funeral. Drew called to say he'd be staying another day on his trip.

I took one sip of the smoothie, and it tasted horrible. I set it on the counter and peeled out of my skirt right there in the kitchen, leaving it in a pile on the floor. Just that meager act of rebellion gave me courage to keep going.

Next the ruined panty hose came off. I removed my wide gold wedding band, tied it to the leg with the big hole, and carried it back to the bedroom. I stood on the bed and looped the hose around a blade on the ceiling fan. I hoped Drew would flip on the light switch and the thing would knock him upside the head. I took off my jacket and threw it onto the floor and slung my hat against the far wall. When Drew came home, he could find the first mess in his house since we'd married. Good little wives kept a nice, clean home for their husbands. They kept his shirts ironed perfectly. They had his dinner on the table.

Apparently good little husbands cheated, and everyone in Tishomingo knew about it. Except his wife. Okay, so a few times I'd wondered about a phone call or when Drew worked late, but didn't all women?

Thinking about all those shirts I'd ironed and he'd worn while he flirted with other women infuriated me. I went through his closet like a wild woman, jerking them all off the hangers, wadding them up into tight little balls, and throwing them at the walls. Then I stripped the closet of his suits and slung them down the hall. After that I threw myself down onto the bed and watched my wedding ring make lazy circles around and around.

I'd take nothing out of the house. There was precious little of me in the place, anyway. I looked at the clock: one thirty. Could it really have only been three hours ago that I was wiggling around in a pew? If I could go back and live in blissful ignorance, would I? No, I would not! I should have been told years ago, and my cousins should have been the ones to tell me.

I opened the closet doors again. Wouldn't it be a hoot if I showed up in public in overalls? I didn't own overalls, but I could improvise. I chose a pair of faded denim Capri pants I wore to work in the flower beds, and a bright yellow shirt with a hole in one sleeve and a spaghetti stain right on the front. I picked out green rubber flip-flops and tied my hair back with a red and white University of Oklahoma bandanna. I was tempted to draw freckles across my nose with an eyebrow pencil and tie my hair up in pigtails but figured someone might call in the boys in the white jackets to carry me off to a mental institution if I went that far. I checked my reflection in the mirror and was content with the effect. Between my showing up in town looking like a bag lady and his losing enough money to buy more fancy cars for his bimbos, Drew should come close to having full-fledged cardiac arrest. I hoped he didn't die instantly but was fully awake when they socked those electric paddles onto his chest.