Four Blind Mice by James Patterson Page B

again. “You ready for this?” I asked before we got out of the car.
    Jamilla rolled her eyes. “Alex, I have four sisters and three brothers back in Oakland. Are you ready for
that?
”
    “Bring them on,” I said as I grabbed hold of her black leather duffel bag, which felt as if it held a bowling ball, and headed toward the house. I was holding my breath, but I was definitely glad that she was here. I hadn’t been this excited in a long time.
    “I missed you,” I said.
    “Yeah, me too,” said Jam.

Chapter 33
    OBVIOUSLY, NANA HAD been thinking about the appropriate welcoming dinner for a while. Jamilla offered to help, and of course Nana refused to let her so much as lift a little finger. So Jam trailed her into the kitchen anyway.
    The rest of us followed to see what would happen next. Two immovable forces. This was high drama.
    “Well, all right then, all right.” Nana complained some, but I could tell she was pleased by the company. It allowed her to show off her wares, put us all to work, and test Jamilla at her leisure. She even managed to hum a little of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” while she worked. And then so did Jamilla.
    “You okay with pork chops in apple gravy, squash casserole, overcreamed potatoes? And you’re not allergic to a little corn bread, are you? Or fresh peach cobbler and ice cream?” Nana asked several loaded questions at once.
    “Love the pork chops, potatoes, peach cobbler,” Jamilla said as she examined the food. “Neutral on squash casserole. I make creamed corn bread at home.
My
grandma from Sacramento’s recipe. You add creamed corn, which makes it extra moist. Sometimes I throw in pork rinds too.”
    “Hmm,” Nana said. “That sounds pretty good, girl. I’ll have to try it.”
    “If it ain’t broke,” Jannie decided to contribute.
    “Keep your small mind open,” said Nana, wagging a crooked pinkie finger at Jannie. “That’s if you ever want it to grow bigger and don’t want to remain a small person all your life.”
    “I was just defending your corn bread, Nana,” said Jannie.
    Nana winked. “I can take care of myself.”
    Dinner was served in the dining room, with Usher, Yolanda Adams, and Etta James on the CD player. So far, this was pretty good. Just what the doctor ordered.
    “We eat like this every night,” Damon said. “Sometimes we even have breakfast out here in the formal dining room,” he told Jamilla. I could tell that he already had a little crush on her. Hard not to, I suppose.
    “Of course you do, like when the president stops over for tea,” Jamilla said, and winked at Damon, then at Jannie.
    “He comes here often,” Damon said, nodding. “How did you know? My dad tell you?”
    “Think I saw it on CNN. We get that on the West Coast, you know. We all have TVs out by our hot tubs.”
    Dinner and the small talk were a success — at least I thought so. The laughter was constant, and mostly relaxed. Little Alex sat in his high chair grinning the whole time. At one point Jamilla pulled Damon out of his seat, and they danced a few steps to Aretha’s “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?” on the CD player.
    Nana finally rose from the table and proclaimed, “I absolutely forbid you to help with the dishes, Jamilla. Alex can pitch in. That’s his job.”
    “C’mon, then,” Jamilla said to Jannie and Damon. “Let’s go out front and trade gossip about your daddy. And your Nana too! You have questions — I have questions. Let’s dish. You too, little man,” she said to Alex Jr. “You’re excused from kitchen detail.”
    I followed Nana out to the kitchen with about half of the dirty dinnerware stacked in my hands and arms.
    “She’s pleasant,” Nana said before we got there. “She’s certainly full of life.” Then she started to cackle like one of those pesky crows in the old-time cartoons.
    “What’s so funny, old woman?” I asked. “You’re really getting a big kick out of yourself, aren’t you?”
    “I am. Why wouldn’t