Three men who’d never cooked a funeral lunch in their lives. Doing the one thing they did know how to do. Carrying something heavy without being asked twice.
Louise opened three jars of her own green beans. Canned last August from her own garden. She’s canned green beans every August for fifty years, whether the church needed them or not. Because that’s simply what a woman like Louise does with a garden.
I had four pounds of ground beef in my freezer at home. It was supposed to be my meals for the week. It went straight into a roaster of tater tot hotdish.
Because tater tot hotdish is what this county eats when it grieves. And there’s no replacing it with a catered cold cut tray, no matter how lovely the spread.
Eunice, nearly blind in the dim basement light, worked the biscuit dough by feel. She could have made those biscuits in her sleep. Some mornings she probably nearly did.
