No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down.She wrote me once that no matter where we choose to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends.Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school.Nervous girls who never laughed.Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye.She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him.He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people.She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet-but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. Come back here, I say.And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun.But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee.Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style.
