“Mr. Boudreaux. I’m so happy to meet you.” Then, just to shake off the general sense of doom, I went over and gave the man a hug. Imagine throwing your arms around a marble statue, and you’ll get the idea of how my friendly overture was met. Red-faced, I stepped back and tried to ignore the way Jackson’s jaw was hanging all the way to the floor. Mr. Boudreaux was red in the face, too. He said, “Oh. Dear. You’ll have to excuse me, Bianca, I don’t think I’ve been hugged by anyone in about fifty years.” But he kind of liked it, I could tell. Encouraged, I smiled at him again. “Sorry to be so
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