Miss Hattie pulled a folded insurance letter out of her purse and held it up with both hands.
Young man, she said to Brandon, you said somebody has to climb the ladder. Let me tell you who climbed mine.
After Hurricane Francine, she said, the storm tore the roof off my house on Dauphin Island, and my insurance company sent me this letter saying they would not pay a dime. I am a widow on a fixed income. I had buckets in every room. And a roofer and his crew came out, climbed up in the Alabama sun, and put a whole new roof on my house for free. They would not take anything. He said a widow should not have to choose between a roof and her medicine.
The yard had gone quiet. Marcus had set down the fry basket.
Brandon sold one penthouse and bragged about it, and the cousin he mocked gave a widow back her roof and would not take a dollar.
Miss Hattie said my wifes sister had brought her to the fish fry, and she had been sitting under the pecan tree all afternoon working up the nerve, because she had promised herself she would thank that young man in front of everyone someday.
I am Marcuss daddy. He dropped more catfish in the fryer and said happy Fourth, Brandon, and took the joke, because a man who reroofs a widows house for free does not get rattled by a fellow in white loafers. Brandon climbed down off that cooler and did not get back up on it.