Matchmaker Mysteries 8-10 by Elise Sax

Author:Elise Sax [sax, elise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elise Sax
Published: 2019-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Bridget drove us to the library in her VW Bug. “What’s going on with Zelda?” she asked. “Why is she in bed? Is she having a blind day?”

Every once in a while, my grandmother had a blind day, when her third eye couldn’t see, and she would become distraught and disoriented. On those days, she would mostly stay in bed.

“No, she’s in bed because of me.” Because I stirred up painful memories of her son’s death.

“I can’t believe that’s true, Gladie.” Bridget patted my knee. “When you moved into town, Zelda got a new lease on life. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

It never dawned on me that my presence actually did something for her. I thought the benefits to us living together were totally one-sided. I got a place to live and food in my mouth, a support system, and training for a new profession, but my grandmother only got more responsibility and stress. Could Bridget be right, and I actually brought something to the equation?

I opened my window and let the wind blow on my face. My grandmother was right about the weather. The air was clean and refreshing, and the sun was out. But the town was a mess. Television vans lined Main Street, and journalists were interviewing cardigan-wearing DICK members, who were giving them stories about how indecent we were.

As we drove by, I saw the mayor, jumping up and down behind a couple of them, shouting, “It’s not true! It’s not true! We’re small-town America! We have sixteen pie shops in town!”

“It looks like the mayor’s about to go into labor,” I told Bridget.

“I can see the vein popping out on his forehead from here. I feel bad because I should be front and center in this fight against DICK, but my sandwich board doesn’t fit me anymore, and my heart’s not in it. Do you think I’ll want to protest again, once the baby’s born?”

“I can’t imagine you going very long without protesting labor infractions or the patriarchy. You’re probably just retaining fluid, and that’s why you don’t want to protest.”

“I had to squeeze my feet into my flip-flops to get them on. If you stick me with a hat pin, I’ll leak all over. I could fill a pool.”

The library was buzzing with activity. There were several DICK people outside with their hands up in the air, shouting something and more or less blocking the entrance. Bridget parked in back, and we went inside, avoiding the DICK line.

“Fascists,” Bridget muttered. “Nazi, jack-booted, puritans. If I wasn’t bearing life, and I didn’t have hemorrhoids, I would give them a piece of my mind.”

Inside the library, Meryl was chasing after several DICK people. She was apoplectic and whispering as loudly as she could, chastising them for whatever they were doing.

“What are they doing?” I asked Bridget.

She gasped. “They’re armed with Sharpies, Gladie. Black Sharpies.”

We joined Meryl and watched as a DICK man opened a book and began to run through offending printed words with his black Sharpie.

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