It passed seven to nothing. Tamra made the seventh vote. She’d been added to the council that fall.
We got the freezer in November. It’s a big white chest freezer, and it sits right next to the pantry. Dale and LeRoy’s boy carried it down the stairs.
Somebody, I’m still not sure who, put a strip of masking tape on the lid. And written on the tape, in black marker, are five names.
Louise. Wanda. Eunice. Marge. Opal.
I’m fairly sure it was Tamra.
She’s never said. And I’ve never asked.
Cole Haney still comes to church most Sundays. He sits near the back, by himself, in the last pew.
But twice now, on a Tuesday morning, he’s come down the basement stairs to help.
The first time, I looked up from the stove and there he was, standing in the doorway with his hands in his jacket pockets, not sure whether he was allowed in.
