A tear slipped from my eye as I smiled. “Fine. Just be sure and bake a sweet potato pie just for me. You know how Daddy is. He can eat one all by himself.” Grandmama sneered. “That turd will be lucky if I forgive him by then. I have a notion to bake him a chocolate cake full of ex-lax.” “Grandmama,” I said with a chuckle, “please don’t do that.” She smiled. “I’ll try not to.” Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Not making any promises though.”
