Small Blessings by Martha Woodroof

Author:Martha Woodroof
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466835887
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

chapter 14

Agnes stood in the middle of Rose Callahan’s not very big living room and eyed a two-foot-long crack in a wall. “You say the maintenance people did a lot of work on this place? It still looks pretty primitive, if you ask me.” Of course, Rose Callahan hadn’t asked her, but neither did she look disturbed by the assessment.

“You should have seen it before,” Rose said happily.

Agnes sighed and turned to look at the titles on Rose’s bookshelves. Fiction, essays, science, history, travel, biography ran riot; there was absolutely no order. Her own bookshelves were methodically arranged. Might this literary free-for-all be a manifestation of the inner Rose Callahan, the woman standing over there with her calm, contained air that gave nothing away? Probably not. Probably the only accurate information you got about the inner Rose Callahan was what she chose to tell you. Agnes sighed again. Getting to know someone was a boxing match. You circled and circled, letting fly with a tentative jab every now and then to test your ring mate’s reaction.

“I have to check something in the oven,” Rose said. “You want to come with me?”

“Sure,” Agnes said. They moved together into the kitchen. It was even more primitive than the living room. Agnes hadn’t seen appliances like these since the eighties. The early eighties. “Do these things still work?”

“So far. It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

There was so much color in the room it looked like a Matisse. Blue checked curtains, deep purple cupboards, harvest gold refrigerator, avocado stove, black and white linoleum squares on the floor. A rather adorable antique clock with a very loud tick was perched atop an old pine pie safe. A lime green covered pot of something simmered on the stove. Whatever it was smelled good enough to make Agnes realize she was hungry for the first time in over a week. “So, what are we having for lunch?” she asked.

“Chili. My mother’s uncle’s recipe. He taught me how to make it when I was a kid. We used to visit him every summer on his scrubby little ranch in the Texas panhandle. Of course, to follow the recipe faithfully, you’re supposed to throw in some kind of rodent, but I had to leave that out.”

“Pity.” Agnes lifted the lid and looked in. She could see meat and tomatoes, but there had to be other things swimming around in there she could only smell. “What is it that smells so good?”

Rose shook her head. “I’m not telling. Uncle Luther would haunt me if I did.” She looked at Agnes with great innocent eyes.

“Ah yes,” Agnes said. “I understand. The ever-present departed, keeping us in line.” Could she possibly believe such nonsense? It wasn’t like her to even consider it.

Rose bent over and opened the oven door. The unmistakable smell of biscuits escaped. Rose poked at them with her finger, then straightened up again. “These’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Would you care to sit here or in the living room while we wait? I’ve made some iced tea if you’d like something to drink.

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