“So put one in.”

She grunted. “Can’t. Miss Harper can sniff out a bit of pork like a coon dog does a possum. Nothing gets past her. It’ll be good,” she said, stirring. “Just not as good, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

“We’re sure putting you through your paces this summer with all our demands, aren’t we? No alcohol, no fat, no salt, no butter.”

“No taste,” Lucille grumbled.

“It’s healthy,” Dora offered.

“I do what I gots to do,” Lucille said with the sigh of the long suffering. “But I won’t give up my corn bread. I don’t care how much Miss Harper complains about my bacon grease, I will not give up my mama’s corn bread!”

“God forbid!” Dora agreed. “Bless her heart, she’s from New York and doesn’t appreciate the virtues of pork. But she’s making an effort. And you’re a genius in the kitchen. Everything still tastes wonderful. I, for one, know I wouldn’t be able to stick to this diet without your support. I swear, Lucille, your cooking is holding this family together.”

Lucille appeared mollified and half smiled. “Ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for this family.”

Dora paused and stared at the woman bent over the stove. Lucille had the heart of a lion but she was normally shy of expressing her affection in words. She showed her love through action—breakfast in bed on birthdays, an ironed dress for a special occasion, fresh flowers on the bureau. To hear these words now took Dora by surprise. She went to Lucille’s side and kissed her cheek.

Startled, Lucille drew back, her dark eyes wide. “What’s that for?”

“Does it have to be for something? You’re family, you know.”

Lucille, clearly flustered by Dora’s show of emotion, awkwardly tried to smile as she turned back to the stove. “Just caught me by surprise, is all. You’re not one to give kisses.”

Dora wondered about that comment as she returned to the table. For so long she’d held herself back from excessive shows of affection. Cal was not physically affectionate. No pats on the behind or arms around her shoulder during a movie. She was especially restrained with Nate, knowing that he’d get upset if she spontaneously hugged or kissed him. Did that restraint come naturally to her? Was she, as Cal had insinuated, frigid?

Dora stuffed a few paper napkins into the canvas bag. “I’m sure Cal would agree with you. Maybe I should change that, eh?”

“This surely is a summer for changes.”

Dora laughed, hearing the truth in that.

“Where are you off to this time?”

“We’re going boating.”

“We?”

“Me and Devlin.”

Lucille paused her stirring, her lips twisted in thought. “I know that name. How do I know that name?”

“Devlin Cassell,” Dora replied. “You remember him. I went steady with him back in high school. Blond hair, blue eyes, tan. Surfer. He was here all the time. Practically lived in the kitchen. Used to steal your cookies.”

Lucille swung around, eyes wide. “That Devlin? Lord help us. Was that the man you got all trussed up for the other night?”

Dora laughed. “Sure was.”

Lucille clucked her tongue. “Back when, your mamaw was on her knees praying most nights that boy wouldn’t get into your skivvies, worried ’bout what else he’d steal beside cookies. And now it’s startin’ up all over again.” She turned back to the stove and said in a lusty wail, “My, my, my . . .”

“Mamaw doesn’t have to worry about my cookies any longer,” Dora said drily. “Let’s just say things aren’t as hot and heavy now as they were back when we were teenagers.”

“You talk like you’re an old woman.”

“I’m thirty-six. Almost thirty-seven. With a child.”

“You got the same parts, don’t you?”

“Last time I looked.”

“And they still work?”

Dora smirked. “I wouldn’t know. It’s been so long.”

“Seems to me it’s high time you find out.”

Now it was Dora’s turn to be flustered. “Well, it wouldn’t be right,” she stammered. “I’m not divorced yet.”

“You ain’t been living as man and wife for a long time.”

“It would be wrong for me to, you know, be with another man.”

“Who says?”

“My lawyer, probably. My mother, most certainly.”

Lucille grunted in a manner that gave no doubt she didn’t care for Winnie. “Who’s gonna tell them? That’s one woman who’d be a lot happier if someone took the long pole out of her backside.”

“Lucille!” Dora burst out with a laugh.

“You know it’s true. And don’t you tell me you’re not thinkin’ the same thing.”

Dora giggled at Lucille’s unexpected burst of temper. Her mother had never given Dora that little talk mothers were supposed to give their daughters at puberty. Dora didn’t think Winnie could bring herself to say the words. When Dora was thirteen, she had found a pamphlet on her bed written by some priest or bishop. It was all about the mystical body of Christ, and Dora couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.

“She was always pretty rigid about rules, I’ll give you that. And sex. I don’t think she finds sex very ladylike.”

“It was a miracle you were born, child,” Lucille said. “When Winnie talks about Adam and Eve, I’ll wager all she can think about is how they committed some sin. What’s that special name they call it?”

“Original sin.”

“That’ll be it. Ain’t we learned nothin’ since then? Still calling sex a sin. Sex is as natural as the birds and the bees.” Lucille grew agitated, putting one hand on her hip as she spoke. “God put a man and a woman together, buck naked in paradise. ’Course He knew what was gonna happen. Way I see it, that was the plan all along. Else how would Cain and Abel be born? Or any of us?”

She covered the pot of soup and turned off the stove. “Don’t listen to your mother. You ain’t sixteen no more. You’re a woman, fully growed. Make up your own mind. Just remember, we’re all Eve’s daughters.” She caught Dora’s gaze and held it. “This is your one and only life, girl. Your time in the garden.”