“That’s one way to put it. You decent?”
“Yes.”
Grandma Billy came into the bedroom, carrying an armload of blankets. “Figured you’d want these. It gets cold at night.” She paused, taking in Selena’s condition. “Go drink some water, hon, it’ll help a lot.”
This seemed like excellent advice. Selena felt hungover, and she hadn’t touched a drop for months. It was easier to remember her scripts when she didn’t drink, even though Walter said that normal people could drink at parties without getting tongue-tied.
She staggered into the kitchen and turned on the faucet, slurping water out of her cupped hands.
“Cups,” said Grandma Billy, slapping her forehead. “Knew I forgot something.”
Selena braced herself on the edge of the sink. “How did you know I was staying?”
Grandma shrugged. “You didn’t come back down the road, so you were either here or you’d wandered off into the desert to die. And I didn’t figure you’d do that, on account of your dog.” She scratched Copper behind the ears. Copper sat down and panted in approval.
“Oh.”
“Besides, I didn’t figure you for the dyin’ kind. Close, maybe, but no cigar. Give me a hand with the wheelbarrow, will you?”
Wheelbarrow?
Selena followed Grandma onto the porch. Standing beside the bottom step was, indeed, a wheelbarrow. It had a couple of lumpy sacks in it and an old rag rug.
“Most of this stuff was Amelia’s,” said Grandma, handing Selena a sack. Selena staggered a little under the weight. “I was holding on to it till somebody in town needed it, but I’m glad it’s you. Couple of these things might have been unhappy in some other house.”
“Thank you,” said Selena, a bit worried. Her sack was making clanking noises.
Grandma Billy hefted the other sack over her shoulder. “Cups. Bah. No cups. I remembered the silverware, at least. And a good pot and a frying pan.”
She led the way back into the house. Selena was torn between mild horror—she can’t give me all this stuff, even if it’s old, and anyway, I’m not staying that long—and deep relief that someone else seemed to be in charge.
The sack proved to contain a coffee can full ofveryfresh eggs, fresh enough to still have bits of chicken crap sticking to them, a big square of cornbread, and a jar of olive oil.
“From Under the Olive Tree House,” said Grandma. “You know how to use one of these?” She pulled out a coffee press that appeared to have been designed by the Spanish Inquisition. “You pour the hot water in and press down.” She put a coffee can down beside it. “Don’t get excited, it’s crap coffee, but it’ll do the job.”
“I . . . thank you . . . but I don’t have much money . . .”
“Pfff.” Grandma waved a hand dismissively. “It’s spring and all the chickens are laying like anything.Isure can’t eat all the eggs. Just save the carton for me.”
“Thank you,” said Selena. “It’s very kind of you.” She didn’t dare think about how kind it was, because she’d probably start crying. Now she could feed Copper for another day, at least until she sorted out what to do next.
Grandma sniffed. “Ain’t nothing. I’d do it for anybody, let alone Amelia’s kin.” She picked up a handful of mismatched silverware and started to open one of the kitchen drawers. “Oh, hang on, you check for widows yet?”
“Widows,” said Selena blankly.Isn’t Grandma Billy a widow? She said she had two husbands ...
“Black widow spiders.”
Selena jumped. “That’s a thing? You have those? I thought they were just—you know—” She waved a hand.A made-up thing that might be real somewhere, but not here. Like quail. Oh dear.
“Won’t be a minute,” said Grandma. She reached into a pocket of her skirt and pulled out a pair of leather garden gloves. “Stand behind me with the broom and if I yell, get ready to swat.”
Selena picked up the broom. Copper eyed both humans with mild disgust and flopped down by the back door.
They went systematically through the cupboards. Selena clutched the broom and waited to whack something. Grandma kept up a running monologue the entire time.
“Clean ... clean ... oh dear, this one’s sticking something fierce, needs a bit of oil on the hinge ... clean ... wait a minute,wait a minute ... no, just a bitty little house spider, he won’t do anything ... clean ...”
It wasn’t until they checked the fireplace that anything turned up.
