It’s his Jesus Year, so he was bound to do something, but . . .” She shook her head as she picked up her cup. “. . . not Lavender. She’s the kind of woman who sucks a man dry. The Porters are upset.” “Jesus Year?” Mom sipped her tea, grimaced because it was too hot, and nodded as she put the cup down. “He turned thirty-three. He’s a Christian. Jesus was thirty-three when he was crucified. Christians do something big when they turn thirty-three. They can’t help it. It’s subconscious or something.” I waited for her to go on, but she just took another sip of tea. “Mom, I’m thirty-three.” “Well,
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