In Front of God and Everybody by KD McCrite Page A

She straightened up and glanced around. “Have you seen my pocketbook?”
    You have to know that my grandma can’t keep up with her big black purse any more than I can sprout wings and fly to Kansas City. Three weeks ago I found it in the refrigerator crisper, on top of the lettuce.
    â€œWhy don’t we just walk to town?” I suggested hopefully. “It would be real healthy.”
    Grandma stared at me like she thought I was nuts.
    â€œIt’s eight miles to town, you silly child, and ninety degrees in the shade.”
    Hopes dashed, I slouched back against the sofa. Her purse was right on the small table next to the front door, but I wanted to put off getting in her car as long as possible, so I kept my mouth shut.
    Just then, a big red pickup pulled off Rough Creek Road and into Grandma’s driveway. Grandma was so busy looking behind the china cabinet that she didn’t hear it arrive. I stood up to get a better look out the picture window.
    â€œYou got company, Grandma,” I said.
    â€œWoo?”
    â€œCompany. In the driveway. A red pickup.” The truck door opened, and I grimaced. “It’s that old man from down the road.”
    Grandma stared at me for a moment, then both hands flew up.
    â€œGood gravy!” she yelped. “Jeffrey Rance is calling on me again .”
    She went trotting off to the bedroom, taking out hairpins and smoothing her hair.
    â€œYou gonna start kissin’?” I called after her. “’Cause there’s some things a kid ought not to see.”
    She popped her head around the doorway between her bedroom and the living room and glared at me.
    â€œHush that, for heaven’s sake!” She popped out of sight again, and I heard bobby pins hitting the little glass tray on her dresser. “You oughta be paddled for eavesdropping, April Grace Reilly.” A second later her bedroom door snapped shut.
    I looked outside again. He was standing out there by his truck, a huge, old man in his black Stetson hat, bright red shirt, black jeans, and cowboy boots. He eyeballed the house like he was fixing to buy it. Then he walked around a bit, gawking up and down, right and left, as if he were looking for something. Then he came toward the house, so I right quick settled back down on the sofa and pretended I was somewhere else. His boot-steps thundered on the porch floor as he approached the door.
    â€œMiz Grace, darlin’, are ya home?”
    The voice boomed into the house as what looked like a red-and-black grizzly bear passed the window and blocked out the daylight from the screen door like a solar eclipse. The odor of Old Spice came through the open windows and screen door and went right up my nose.
    â€œSay, sugar plum,” he yelled. “You here?”
    Queenie shot down off the table and streaked into the spare room. He yanked open the screen door and walked right in, just like he’d been invited.
    â€œMiz Grace!” he bugled like a lovesick moose.
    I made a real admirable attempt to keep my hands off my ears. He didn’t see me, and I sure as shootin’ didn’t let him know I was ten feet away. He stood for a minute, then walked kinda all quiet and sneaky-like over to the TV. He looked at it close, then bent over a little and examined the brand-new VCR sitting on top, which Daddy and Mama had given Grandma last Christmas.
    Not many people had VCRs in 1986 because they were new and expensive gadgets. But they were real nice if you wanted to sit in the front room and watch a movie. Grandma was afraid of it, if you can believe that. She said she was afraid she’d push the wrong button and burn the house down or something, even though I’ve shown her a million times how to use it.
    With his big ole pointy finger, Mr. Rance poked the little flap where the tapes go in, smiling as big as if he’d discovered gold in the backyard. He muttered something about that “nifty little item oughta