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ABRAHAM HANDED ME a huge slice of chess pie It was a southern funeral favorite because it could be redients ar, butter

Abraha with dishes and platters and baskets of food, andas much as they could

A question swam into my mind How did Scooter Wille her by name, as if they were old friends Were they? And how could that be?

I excused h the crowded little parlor, through the overpopulated kitchen, out the back door I saw Moody sitting in the yard on an old tree sturound

“Moody,” I said

She did not acknowledge me

I reached out to touch her shoulder “Moody”

She pushed my hand away “Don’t put your white hand on my black shoulder,” she said

I drew back and put my hands in my pockets

“Do you know Scooter Willems?” I asked

She lifted her head and looked at me “Who?”

“’Scooter Willerapher from outside the church”

“I never seen that man in my life He ain’t nothin’ but a buzzard, pickin’ the meat off of dead people’s bones”

“If you’ve never seen him, how did he know your name?”

“I don’t know”