Gabby stared in horror as her eighty-year-old grandma came out in a shiny pink tracksuit and a pair of Yeezys. “Gabby! I’ve missed you, sweetie. And look, your hair is finally the right color!”
She, her mom, and her grandma all had the same shade of red hair. None of them natural redheads. “It runs in the family!” Granny said.
More like shopping at Walgreens for L’Oréal intense red copper ran in the family, but c’est la vie.
“Choice is more important than genetics,” said Granny. “You’ve finally chosen to be one of us.” Granny put her hands on her hips and looked around the neighborhood, the sky tinged pink over Avocado Avenue. She yelled, “Burt, we’re home.”
“Burt?”
Her mom smiled slyly. “You’ll love him, Gabs.”
“You don’t mean…?”
Her mom kept smiling as the horror of the situation rose like a black sun. Granny opened up the door to reveal an old man in a fedora and a Hawaiian shirt sleeping with his chin on his chest. Granny hollered, “Burt, we’re here. Wake up.”
Her grandma wrapped Gabby in a bony hug. “Gabs, so good to see you. Meet your new grandpa.”
Burt let out a big snore, and Granny held out her left hand. “He proposed.”
Grandma had on a rock that would make JLo jealous. “He got it off QVC.” She whispered as if not to brag. “It’s from the Jane Seymour collection.”
When Gabby didn’t respond, she added, “You know,Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?”
Gabby nodded.
“Burtie, wake up!” she shouted. With a snort, he jarred himself awake. Then he shook off the sleep and looked at Gabby and the quiet street. “The new digs. What’s for dinner?”
What’s for dinner? Gabby’s blood started to boil. Did this old asshole think he was moving in, uninvited, and she was going to make him dinner?
“Actually, Mom, can I talk to you?”
“Gabby, it’s all settled. You need the help, and they need somewhere to stay. Betty, can you help me get the bags?”
Gabby stood in the driveway paralyzed as she watched her plan go to hell. She wasn’t loading up the kids to safety. Betty Danger was moving Granny and Burt into the house. With Betty, her mom, and the kids, it looked like a house party with entertainment. When they opened the door to walk in, music filtered out.
Grandpa yelled, “Which bedroom is mine. Is it soundproof?”
Wednesday morning before work and school, Greene household
It was Granny’s first day watching the kids. On her way out the door, Gabby called, “Remember, no gluten!” Also fingers crossed that Granny was safe behind the wheel. LA traffic for an eighty-year-old woman who hadn’t gone anywhere for years—that was no joke.
“Gluten?” Granny said the word like she’d never heard of it. “What is that anyway?”
“It’s in bread.”
“What? Who can’t eat bread?” Granny was incredulous. “Gabby, how do you expect that boy to grow?”
“Lucas has allergies. He can’t eat eggs, dairy, nuts, or gluten.”
Granny squinted at her. “Whatcanhe eat?”
That was a fair question.
Before she left, Gabby looked at Lucas and said, “Granny is in charge this morning, so you listen to her.” With a deep breath, she said, “I need you to be a big boy. You know what you can and can’t eat, right?”
He nodded.
“It’s your job to be careful and take care of yourself.”
