As they pulled into the bus station in Landry, Mavis’s mother went over all the rules again.
Never go into the Tullys’ house without knocking first.
Remember to say “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am,” because rich people like that.
Don’t say anything bad about the garage apartment where they would be living, even if it’s a dump.
“And whatever you do,” she said, jabbing a finger at Mavis, “be nice to that lady’s daughter.”
“What’s her name again?”
“Rose.”
“Rose,” Mavis whispered to herself. That was a friendly sounding name.
Okay, this time she was not going to beat around the bush.
Rose would be her best friend in Landry, Alabama.
Her mother took a tiny mirror out of her purse and checked her reflection, smoothing her hair and blowing herself a kiss. “Pretty good-looking dame, if I do say so myself,” she said, winking at Mavis and tossing the mirror back into her purse. “Okay, May May, let’s do this.”
Then off she went, strutting up the aisle of the bus like a runway model, leaving Mavis to hurry after her.