“Who was that?” I asked.

“Oh, it was Mama’s helper at the flower shop. I think it’s her cousin. You know they call her Jojo.”

“No, I’ve never met her. What’s up?” I said, a little miffed that I was having to wait to tell Maggie about the apricot Danish.

“Well, I called the shop to see if we could talk to Mama, but Jojo said Mama was out of town for the day. Somebody is having a baby and she’s gone to help.”

“Okay,” I said. “I really wasn’t in the mood to talk with her today anyway. I’m still feeling pretty annoyed. Let’s just take today off from all this drama and go see a movie, then we can come home and take another crack at last night’s dinner. We can call Mama tomorrow. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“That sounds great, Jimmy, and now let’s have some coffee and a little breakfast. Why don’t you check out the movies on your phone? Where are the croissants, baby?”

“They’re in the bag by the toaster, sweetheart.”

I heard the rustling of the paper bag and then, right on cue, Maggie said, “Oh my God, apricot Danish, how sinful!” Then in her typical fashion and most dramatic and hilarious impression of what she calls her “Lauren Bacall,” she said, “There goes my girlish figure!”

Ah, the joys of married life.