“You wouldn’t believe it. Anyway, John gave me some food before he left, but if you want to pour more in my bowl, I would be okay with that.”
I sat up. “I’m sure you would be, but seeing as I want to keep you a healthy weight, we’ll skip it. How’s that?”
“Not the answer I hoped for.”
I rose and crossed into the kitchen, patting her head along the way. I pressed the note to the refrigerator and pinned it there with a magnet.
You know, to make sure that I didn’t forget about dinner. Not because I was totally head-over-heals crazykins about Rufus.
Nope, that wouldn’t be it.
As I was humming to myself, the phone rang.
“Hey, Malene.”
“How’re you holding up this morning?”
I grabbed a pot of chocolate-flavored yogurt from the fridge along with a spoon. “You know, about as good as I’m gonna be for someone whose house was attacked last night.”
“So not good. What happened to John afterward?”
“Oh, he slept on the sofa.”
And not until the words were out of my mouth did I think that I had said the wrong thing—which I had.
“Hmm,” Malene, who was from a more conservative generation, replied. “On the sofa, huh?”
“Yes, I swear.”
“You know something about him?”
It would be best to steer this conversation in the opposite direction. The local paper sat splayed on my kitchen table. Smack on the front page was the reminder of the apple-picking contest—which, was tomorrow.
“You going to Dooley’s for apple picking tomorrow?” I asked.
“Does a pig eat slop?”
“That would be yes, I think.”
“Yes, I’m going. I need to win this year. I want to ride on Dooley’s truck and wave to my fans.”
Of course you do.
“I’m going, too.” My call waiting went off. Hadley Hutto’s name flashed across the screen. “Malene, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later about tomorrow, okay? Bye.”
Before she could protest, I hung up, feeling guilty. This was my grandmother. I needed to spend time talking about my mom, not hanging up on her.
She also could spend a little less time butting into people’s business. But did two wrongs ever make a right?
Maybe?
“Hey, Hadley,” I said, trying to sound professional.
“Clementine, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”
“No,” I told her, “of course not.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know that I don’t need a quote. I’ve decided to go with you for the renovation.”
