All Together Dead
Halleigh, and I could only be thankful, since Selah’s ears had pricked up just like a fox’s.
    “I saw him maybe three weeks ago,” I said truthfully. “But we’re not dating now.” We never had been, actually, because Claude’s idea of a good date was someone with a little beard stubble and equipment I’d never possess. But not everyone had to know that, right? “I’m seeing someone else,” I added modestly.
    “Oh?” Halleigh was all innocent interest. I was getting fonder of the girl (all of four years younger than me) by the second.
    “Yes,” I said. “A consultant from Memphis.”
    “You’ll have to bring him to the wedding,” Halleigh said. “Wouldn’t that be great, Portia?”
    This was another kettle of fish entirely. Portia Bellefleur, Andy’s sister and the other bride-to-be in the double Bellefleur wedding, had asked me to be there to serve alcohol, along with my boss, Sam Merlotte. Now Portia was in a bind. She would never have invited me other than as a worker. (I sure hadn’t been invited to any showers for Portia .) Now I beamed at Portia in an innocent, I’m-so-happy way.
    “Of course,” Portia said smoothly. She had not trained in the law for nothing. “We’d be delighted if you’d bring your boyfriend.”
    I had a happy mental picture of Quinn transforming into a tiger at the reception. I smiled at Portia all the more brightly. “I’ll see if he can come with me,” I said.
    “Now, y’all,” Elmer Claire said, “a little bird told me to write down what Halleigh said when she unwrapped her gifts, cause you know, that’s what you’ll say on your wedding night!” She waved a legal pad.
    Everyone fell silent with happy anticipation. Or dread.
    “This is the first thing Halleigh said: ‘Oh, what pretty wrapping!’” A chorus of dutiful laughter. “Then she said, let’s see: ‘That’s going to fit; I can hardly wait!’” Snickers. “Then she said, ‘Oh, I needed one of those!’” Hilarity.
    After that, it was time for cake and punch and peanuts and the cheese ball. We’d all resumed our seats, carefully balancing plates and cups, when my grandmother’s friend Maxine opened a new topic of discussion.
    “How’s your new friend, Sookie?” Maxine Fortenberry asked. Maxine was clear across the room, but projecting was no problem for Maxine. In her late fifties, Maxine was stout and hearty, and she’d been a second mother to my brother, Jason, who was best friends with her son Hoyt. “The gal from New Orleans?”
    “Amelia’s doing well.” I beamed nervously, all too aware I was the new center of attention.
    “Is it true that she lost her house in the flooding?”
    “It did sustain quite a bit of damage, her tenant said. So Amelia’s waiting to hear from the insurance company, and then she’ll decide what to do.”
    “Lucky she was here with you when the hurricane hit,” Maxine said.
    I guess poor Amelia had heard that a thousand times since August. I think Amelia was pretty tired of trying to feel lucky. “Oh, yes,” I said agreeably. “She sure was.”
    Amelia Broadway’s arrival in Bon Temps had been the subject of lots of gossip. That’s only natural.
    “So for right now, Amelia’ll just stay on with you?” Halleigh asked helpfully.
    “For a while,” I said, smiling.
    “That’s just real sweet of you,” Marcia Albanese said approvingly.
    “Oh, Marcia, you know I got that whole upstairs that I never use. She’s actually improved it for me; she got a window air conditioner put in up there, so it’s much nicer. It doesn’t put me out one bit.”
    “Still, lots of people wouldn’t want someone living in their home that long. I guess I should take in one of the poor souls staying at the Days Inn, but I just can’t bring myself to let someone else in my house.”
    “I like the company,” I said, which was mostly true.
    “Has she been back to check on her house?”
    “Ah, only once.” Amelia had to get in and out of New Orleans
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