So I did. And here we were, reviewing Emma Jean’s outburst as we waited to be served.

“Who was that girl in the choir she kept staring at?’’ I asked.

Mama had her churchgoing hat on the counter, looking for missing pansies. “That’s Debbie,’’ she said. “She’s as sweet as a sugar beet, and she has an adorable boyfriend. He was the one with the long hair, playing guitar on the stage. I can’t imagine Debbie cheating on him with someone like skinny ol’ Jim Albert.’’

“You never know what some women find attractive.’’ I didn’t add, just look at Sal.

“More likely, Emma Jean zeroed in because she’s the prettiest girl at Abundant Hope. Being pretty is a curse, Mace.’’ Mama patted her hair, preening like a beauty queen.

“I’ll keep that in mind.’’

With a squeak from her rubber-soled shoe, the waitress slid to a stop in front of us. She pulled an order pad from the pocket of a forest-green apron, then licked the dull tip of a pencil. “I’m busier than a horsetail in fly season, Rosalee. Did ya’ll decide?’’

Charlene, her name tag said. There’d been no Gladys at the restaurant since the namesake died, but the sign stayed as a memorial to the grande dame of Himmarshee dining.

Mama caressed the pie case like it was a lover. “I know what I want.’’ Her fingers traced the path of a butterscotch slice, rotating inside.

I ordered a hamburger and coffee. So did Mama. We each wanted pie. As Charlene hustled off, my eyes roamed the diner. It was all fake-wood paneling and country-themed knick-knacks. A butter-churn decorated one corner; a spinning wheel another.

“Who’s that sitting with Ruth Harris’ grandson?’’ I whispered to Mama, as Charlene returned with our coffees. “They look like refugees from a Metallica concert.’’

“What’s a Metallica?’’

“They’re a heavy-metal … never mind. I was just wondering how come he and the girl are dressed like that.’’

Mama answered in my ear. “Ruth says that’s the fashion among the teenagers these days. Black, black, and more black. Black hair, black fingernails, black clothes.’’ She leaned way back on her stool and gave my own dark ensemble a meaningful look. “They look like they’re going to a mortician convention.’’

I was gazing into the mirrored wall across the room, trying to convince myself I looked more sophisticated than mournful in black, when I saw Jeb Ennis walk through the door. A Western-style denim shirt covered his broad chest. The snap buttons gleamed like rare pearls. My hand flew to smooth my hair, knocking my coffee cup off the counter and right into my lap.

“Ouch! Ouch, ouch!’’ I yelped, hopping to my feet. Every head in the diner, including Jeb’s, swung my way.

Unlike the police station swill, this coffee was nice and hot. I clamped a hand over my mouth as I pictured red blisters bubbling like lava on my thighs.

“Charlene, fetch my daughter some ice,’’ Mama yelled. “She’s drenched in coffee.’’

I wondered if it was possible to be any more embarrassed.

“And hurry, honey. Mace might hurt herself again before you get here.’’

At least I had my answer about exponential embarrassment.

I watched in the mirror as Jeb pulled a white handkerchief out of his jeans pocket. He grabbed a glass of ice water off a table and dunked it in.

“Here you go, Mace.’’ Easing me back onto the stool, he tenderly placed the wet handkerchief over my lap. “That should feel better.’’

He scooped a handful of ice from the pitcher Charlene held, and rubbed the cubes across the tops of my thighs.

Now my face felt hotter than the coffee burn.

I thanked Jeb and swiveled to the watching diners: “I’m fine, everybody,’’ I announced. “That’ll be my last performance of the night. Y’all can go back to eating now.’’

Laughter lit the flecks of gold in Jeb’s green eyes. “I think the patient’s gonna live.’’ He bowed to the room, to scattered applause.

He placed his hat over his heart, and said in a lower voice, “Mind if I join you, ladies?’’

Mama returned his smile with a dimpled grin and an adorable eyelash flutter.

I could practice in the mirror every day for a year, and never manage that flutter without looking like something was stuck in my eye. But when Mama does it, men swoon.

“Mace, honey, move over a seat so it’ll be girl, boy, girl.’’

Ignoring her request, I slid my purse off the empty stool to my left. I patted the green-and-brown-striped plastic, giving him a wide smile. “Yes, do sit down, Jeb.’’ My voice was banana-pudding sweet.

Mama raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you two young people would like to chat. I’ll just go powder my nose.’’

As soon as she left, I wiped the smile from my face. “I’ve got a couple of questions for you.’’

Jeb cocked his head at me. I’d been distracted by shiny shirt buttons and scalding coffee. But I hadn’t forgotten what I’d learned at the Booze ‘n’ Breeze.

“I had a nice little chat with somebody about your visits to Jim Albert at the drive-thru,’’ I said as he sat down.

He gave me a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about? Who’d you talk to about me?’’

“I’m not going to say where I got the information. But it seems you two were a lot better-acquainted than you let on. Why’d you lie to me, Jeb?’’

His eyes darted to the counter. He lined up a napkin holder shaped like a horseshoe. He straightened a place mat with a red star for our little town above Lake Okeechobee on the map of Florida. Picking up a fork, he stared at it like the words he wanted might be written there.

“I didn’t lie, Mace.’’ He finally looked into my eyes. “I just left some things out. I hadn’t seen you in years, and you ask me out of the blue did I know a man who’d just been murdered. I did know him. But I really didn’t want to get into how, especially standing in a parking lot with your sister firing dirty looks my way.’’

“You could have said something, Jeb.’’

He pointed the fork at me. “To get right down to it, I didn’t think it was your damned business, Mace.’’

I batted his hand away, getting angry now. “Not my business?’’

A trucker at the end of the counter glanced at us over the top of his menu. I lowered my voice. “I suppose you didn’t know the cops believed my mother killed Jim Albert. I suppose the news of her being jailed never reached that ranch of yours.’’

Surprise flickered across his face. It looked genuine.