Long after Barbara Jean had choices and knew better, she would occasionally pick one of the brightest and the tightest from her closet and sashay into the All-You-Can-Eat on a Sunday afternoon just to give Big Earl a reason to grin and slap his knee and say, “That’s my girl.” On those days, she left the All-You-Can-Eat feeling twenty years younger than when she’d walked in. So, for Big Earl she was going to squeeze into a black dress she wouldn’t be able to take more than a
