EPILOGUE
"Angie. Hey, Angie! You in?"
The house was rustic with a flimsy wooden screen door, the kind that's always crooked or warped so it never closes flush. Out here, with the cool breeze coming from the delta, even when imperfect, the screen door was a godsend.
"Angie!" I called again and gently knocked on the doorframe.
"Coming! Coming! Quit your hollering," replied the voice inside. "Oh! Richie! I wasn't expecting you 'til this afternoon."
She approached the door and unlatched the handle, swinging it outward.
"I had some free time this morning. Hope that's alright."
"Oh, absolutely. You can bring them in right over there."
"Thanks," I said as I turned to the dolly I left on the porch, six cases stacked on its foot.
"You know, I can just as easily bring these to the restauran
