Eileen Rendahl - 02 Dead on Delivery by Eileen Rendahl

Author:Eileen Rendahl [Rendahl, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“PUT ON A SKIRT, MELINA,” NORAH SAID WHEN I WALKED OUT of my bedroom wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

I’d taught the afternoon classes at River City, come home and showered again. Wasn’t that enough? “Why? It’s my mother’s house, not a five-star restaurant. I spent most of the time I lived there in sweatpants. Jeans are practically black tie in comparison.”

“You don’t live there anymore and it’s a matter of showing respect by dressing appropriately.” She didn’t budge from the hallway. I wondered if she’d been waiting there for me to come out inappropriately dressed.

I opened my mouth, but before I could get a word out, Norah held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Just go change.”

I made another noise, but she cut me off again. “Enough.” She turned and walked down the hallway, saying, “Talk to the booty ’cuz the hand’s off duty.”

I went back into my bedroom and changed.

I came out a little later in a long black skirt, boots and a top. Norah sighed and put a scarf around my neck and pronounced me suitable. Ted arrived a few minutes later wearing a sport coat and a dress shirt with jeans.

“We look ridiculous,” I complained. “This is not us. It’s like we’re putting on costumes.”

“Yes,” Norah agreed. “You’re wearing a costume. Tonight you will be playing the part of the loving daughter. Do you want me to give you your lines?”

I glared at her. “Let’s go get Grandma.”

NORAH AND TED WAITED WITH THE BUICK WHILE I WENT INTO the Sunshine Assisted Living Facility to pickup Grandma. I signed in at the front desk and dutifully put on a Visitor sticker even though I was only going to be there for about five minutes and I was relatively certain that no one would mistake me for a resident. I look young for my age, and the minimum age for getting into Sunshine was fifty-five and then you had to have a spouse who was over sixty-five. I so did not qualify, although it was tempting sometimes. Grandma Rosie didn’t have to cook anymore; someone came and made her bed every morning; there were art classes and language classes, field trips to museums and weekly buses to the shopping malls. It didn’t sound like a bad life to me at all.

Grandma was already at her door with her coat on when I got to her room. I glanced at my watch. I was not late, for once.

“I would have helped with your coat,” I said. It seems like a little thing, but her having to hold on to her cane and reach up for her coat on the hanger at the same time took a bit of balancing.

She waved me off. “I’m fine. Let’s go. I’m starving.”

They served dinner early at Sunshine. Like five o’clock sharp. Grandma was often headed down to the dining room for dinner by four forty-five. Six o’clock was stretching her appetite a little bit and she didn’t like to snack.

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