“Yes, of course,” I said, a little too loud. “Please come in.” I held the door open so she could walk in and locked it behind her as she marched right to the kitchen like she knew where it was.
I followed, unsure what was going on, to find her switching on the oven and opening drawers. She reminded me a little of my mom, who would always walk into a room and take charge of the kitchen.
“I didn’t mean to barge in like this,” she said, taking out two forks and a serving spoon. “I was heading to my other son’s house to thank him for helping me in my garden and thought I would drop off a little gift.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, only cream, please, and I’ll take my grand kitten if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I said, passing her over before taking down another coffee cup and adding creamer. Bev cooed at Phoebe, telling her how pretty she was and how much healthier she looked as I worked.
“Here you go.” I handed her the cup and motioned to the kitchen table, where I pushed aside the letter and magazine so we could sit.
“Thank you so much, Jenna. This smells delicious.”
I sat down and pulled my coffee closer, taking a sip while Bev reached down in her purse and took out a tiny pink sweater with a skull and crossbones on one side. She wiggled the sweater on Phoebe, then held her up, looking at her handy work.
“OMG, that’s the cutest thing ever, Mrs. Hansen,” I said, reaching for Phoebe so I could oh and ah over the design.
“Oh, Bev, please, and thank you. Mark mentioned she needed to stay warm. I should have brought this over sooner. I did it in my rage-knitting class.”
“Rage-knitting?”
“Oh, yes. You’d be surprised how much better you feel after spending an afternoon knitting a nice tea-towel that saysKiss My Ass You Stupid Twat-Waffle.”
I snorted my coffee and coughed, struggling to breathe as Bev leaned over and slapped my back.
Twat-Waffle?
“It doesn’t have to be so crass, you know. I knitted Miller a cap that had a hand holding up a middle finger.”
“That sounds pretty amazing and relaxing, actually.”
I could imagine the girls and I all sitting around, drinking, and knitting profanity onto things. Addison would live for the opportunity to shower her friends and enemies with elegantly inscribed words likedouche-canoeandho-bag.
“Oh, it is. It helped me so much after my Martin died. That and my topiary trimming and bonsai art. I had a lot of misplaced anger. You should come with me to the next class, the ladies would love you, and honestly, this is nice. I hope you don’t think I’m a nosy meddler.”
“What? Why would I think that? Also, you know you’re going to have to elaborate on topiary trimmings now, right?”
“Oh, that. Rage knitting has taken a back seat to my topiary and bonsai designs. Here, check out this one on my porch. And all my boys have several at their houses.”
I tried to remember seeing plants at Mark’s house the night he brought Phoebe home, but honestly, it was all a blur. Bev pulled out her phone and flipped through her pictures until she came to the one she wanted. She turned the screen, and my eyes got wide as I stared at a giant… dick?
“Is that a—”
“Dick? Yes. My neighbor can be a real pain in the ass, if you know what I mean? So I started trimming topiary bushes. Keep scrolling.”
I did and saw her patio was covered with topiaries of all shapes and sizes. There were dicks, middle fingers, vaginas, boobs, and I was pretty sure one was a giant butt.
“Wow. I’m kinda obsessed with plants myself, but nothing like this.”
“You are?” she said, looking around the house.
“Yes, I’ll show you.”
We grabbed our coffee and walked to the patio, where Bev took in all my plants. She walked up and down, making noises of appreciation while touching the leaves and flowers.
“This is amazing, Jenna. Why are they out here?”
