Confederate Socks never lose their elasticity, and we’ve made millions off ’em. Daddy always gives free socks to the Faulkner County High football and basketball teams, since that was where his idea began.”
“It’s quite an American success story,” Lily said. “Growing up with a self-made man like that for a dad, no wonder you vote Republican.”
“Hey, it’s in my best interest to make sure business is protected.”
“Well, it may be in your best interest financially, but I still think that gay Republicans are like gazelles who try to make friends with lions.” She and Ben had had this argument umpty-dozen times.
“But I guess there’s no need for us to argue politics on our wedding day, is there, honey?”
“I guess not... pumpkin.”
Lily laughed. “So, how are your parents gonna take this— you showing up with new wife and baby in tow?”
“Oh, they’ll be thrilled, once they get over the initial shock. I mean, you’re certainly not who they would’ve picked out for me if they had had the choice, but as far as their gay-boy son goes, any woman is better than no woman.”
Lily looked up from gnawing her nails. “You sure know how to flatter a girl.”
Right past a run-down store advertising live bait and sandwiches, Ben pulled into a long driveway.
The driveway ended at a huge monstrosity of a house — a red brick mansion with antebellum columns and a cupola on the roof. “When Daddy had this house built, Mom couldn’t decide if she wanted Tara or Monticello,” Ben said, “so they kinda built both.”
Lily wondered what she would do if she had the money to build a house like this. The only thing she knew for sure was that if she did, she definitely would not use the money to build a house like this.
“So,” Ben said, “you ready to meet the folks?”
“Sure thing, Benny Jack.”
“Never call me that. Half the reason I moved away from this damn place was so nobody would call me that.”
Lily, with Mimi in her arms, followed Ben up the front porch steps. Ben opened the front door and hollered, “Mom!” There was no answer, so they went inside.
The living room was decorated in slate blue and mauve, with lots of geese, sheep, and other ersatz
“country” doodads. A TV with a theater-sized screen dominated the room. “Mom!” Ben yelled again, then said, “She must be out back.”
Lily followed Ben through the enormous kitchen, through the formal dining room with the fully stocked china cabinet and floral centerpiece on the table, through the sunroom with its white wicker furniture. They went out the back door and down a stone path that led to a high wooden fence. Ben opened the gate.
Mrs. McGilly was lying on a floating air mattress in the Olympic-size swimming pool, reading a glossy-covered romance novel and eating grapes. She was an attractive woman, with curly light brown hair that was highlighted with the occasional streak of silver. For the mother of three grown children, her body was positively streamlined in her purple swimsuit.
Ben stood silently, waiting for her to notice him. Finally, she looked up and exclaimed,
