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Show 65. XI "If we didn't have Sunday morning breakfasts, I'd never see this family all together," Addie Anderson said as she served up a platter of vanilla smelling French toast from the stove. She had protected her best dress with the over-sized apron Stephanie made in home ec but refused to wear. "I love Sunday morning, too," Stephanie snuggled into herself. "I adore sleeping in." "You should go to Sunday School once in awhile," her mom scolded. "She's a church school drop-out," JD said. "She'll probably go straight to hell if she doesn't shape up. Pass the butter, please." "JD!" His mother thumped him on the head. "What about you?" Stephanie accused. "You only go to church when Gayle makes you. That's worse." "You're right. I'm a hypocrite," he admitted and hoisted a monstrous chunk of French toast to his mouth. "If you kids had grown up the way I did," their father said, "you'd have gone every Sunday whether you like it or not. I stoked the furnace at the Methodist Church there in Big Piney and, I tell you, I had to stick around to warm up afterwards. I heard all the sermons once and some of them over again." "You sure had it rough, Dad," JD joshed as he handed the syrup across the table to his father. "Oh, get on with feeding your face. Your time's coming!" JD liked Sunday mornings at home, too, but he didn't feel like rhapsodizing about it right then. What was really on his mind was telling his folks the Evanses had invited him to dinner. It was the first time. He and Gayle had been going together for over a year, but he'd never been asked to a meal at their house. He could bring Gayle home, even announced. That seemed to be okay. His mom would send him out for more hamburger or she'd cut the roast thinner or somehow make five salad helpings out of four. The Evans' lives were too well organized, he guessed, for drop-in dinner company. He'd wondered if it was Gayle's idea, this invitation, or if-since his celebrity status-they were uncontrollably curious like everyone else. The unlucky appearance of |