Not surprisingly, we were late leaving. It usually happens like that on our jaunts to Tahoe. We plan to leave San Francisco at 7:00. Em usually arrives at my house at 8 or 8:30.

I waited until we reached the East Bay before calling our friends already in the mountains, giving them a heads up we’d be late, telling them not to worry.

“Did you *just* leave, LoriLoo?” he accusingly asked.

No. Not just. I thought for a moment. Well, sort of just. We’re out of the city, though. We’re already to Fairfield. Okay, okay, we did just leave.

“Well, don’t worry about stopping at the Jelly Belly factory. I knew you’d be running late so I took care of it. You just come on up here.”

I laughed and repeated the conversation to Em. “Did he ask you to stop at the Jelly Belly factory beforehand or is he just being funny?”

I’m sure he’s just joking. This was the first I’ve heard about jelly beans.

But not the last.

When we entered the house at midnight, 15 pounds of Jelly Belly flops quietly greeted us from the kitchen table.

He wasn’t joking.

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