have to tell you we want to tinkle?”
She gave Mel one more look I couldn't read and said, “You might as well come in. I was just going to have break-fast. In an hour or so.”
“We can go away and come back later,” I said, not step-ping forward. I admit it, I wanted to wring an actual welcome out of her.
“I'm not sure my heart could take it,” she said, holding the door open wider.
There was something in her eyes when she looked at me. Curiosity. Something. She looked away before I could quite know what it was.
Mel stepped around me. “We should have called first,” she said, which was only the simple truth. The woman would've had a chance to get that mess off her head.
Chapter 10
I FOLLOWED Mel inside. The hallway had a faint smell. I thought of Miss Nelda, who was a little too enthusiastic about those plug-in air fresheners. But she always worried that her house would get what she called “that old-lady smell.” I wondered if this was it.
“To tell you the truth,” Mel said, “I was under the impression there was some kind of emergency.”
“Oh, well, the fire is out,” the grandmother said.
“What fire?” Mel asked. She went from Mel the Invader to Smokey the Bear in a heartbeat.
“The one in the warshing pantry,” the grandmother said.
“We're talking about a real fire?” Mel asked, her voice rising. “As in flames and smoke?”
“The very same.”
Smoke. That's what I smelled. I was really glad it wasn't the old-lady smell. They were more or less moving toward the kitchen, the grandmother shuffling along in big fluffy slippers, tissue paper afloat around her ears. I had time to look into doorways.
“When did this happen?” Mel asked.
“More'n a week now,” the grandmother said.
“Did you have smoke inhalation? Is that why you were in the hospital?”
“I didn't go to the hospital,” the grandmother said irritably.
The hospital idea had come to Mel while she was standing on the porch or maybe while she was driving through the night. She said, “Right, right. But you said there was a fire, Momma.”
“I just wanted to press the wrinkles out of a dress. I was in a hurry to go and I forgot to turn off the iron,” the grandmother said. “I wasn't even in the house when it started. I missed the whole thing.”
The place was bigger than I'd thought at first. Big central hallway. Two dark sitting rooms at the front, a dining room midway, and on the other side, what looked like the grandmother's bedroom. The lamp next to her bed gave me a good view of this room. A wall of bookshelves. Dark woods. Everything else faded and tired-looking, even the book covers.
“No one was hurt?” Mel was asking.
“My neighbor saw the smoke and ran over here to douse the fire. His eyebrows were singed right off. He looked a bit overbaked for a few days, and now he's peeling. But other than that, no.”
“Well, that's good,” Mel said. I knew she was wondering the same thing I was: What did her sister's message mean?
“If I'd had to count on the fire department, I'd probably be standing on
your
doorstep this morning.”
Mel looked stricken, and the grandmother laughed.
It
was
kind of funny.
The kitchen was just the kind Mel was always yearning for. Old-fashioned, mainly. There was a plain white gas stove. And a pretty, green woodburner held a collection of old bowls on the stovetop.
But even that stove wasn't enough to distract the eye from the window over the sink. It was brand-new, with the store label in one corner. The wall above and the cabinets around had a dark color over the paint job, like storm clouds.
“I thought you said the fire was in the laundry room,” Mel said.
“This is an old fire,” the grandmother said. “I left the little window fan running while I went to the store. I'd done that a hundred times, but this time it overheated, burst into flame, and ate the curtains.”
“It must have eaten the window too,” Mel said, in that tone she uses when she
She gave Mel one more look I couldn't read and said, “You might as well come in. I was just going to have break-fast. In an hour or so.”
“We can go away and come back later,” I said, not step-ping forward. I admit it, I wanted to wring an actual welcome out of her.
“I'm not sure my heart could take it,” she said, holding the door open wider.
There was something in her eyes when she looked at me. Curiosity. Something. She looked away before I could quite know what it was.
Mel stepped around me. “We should have called first,” she said, which was only the simple truth. The woman would've had a chance to get that mess off her head.
Chapter 10
I FOLLOWED Mel inside. The hallway had a faint smell. I thought of Miss Nelda, who was a little too enthusiastic about those plug-in air fresheners. But she always worried that her house would get what she called “that old-lady smell.” I wondered if this was it.
“To tell you the truth,” Mel said, “I was under the impression there was some kind of emergency.”
“Oh, well, the fire is out,” the grandmother said.
“What fire?” Mel asked. She went from Mel the Invader to Smokey the Bear in a heartbeat.
“The one in the warshing pantry,” the grandmother said.
“We're talking about a real fire?” Mel asked, her voice rising. “As in flames and smoke?”
“The very same.”
Smoke. That's what I smelled. I was really glad it wasn't the old-lady smell. They were more or less moving toward the kitchen, the grandmother shuffling along in big fluffy slippers, tissue paper afloat around her ears. I had time to look into doorways.
“When did this happen?” Mel asked.
“More'n a week now,” the grandmother said.
“Did you have smoke inhalation? Is that why you were in the hospital?”
“I didn't go to the hospital,” the grandmother said irritably.
The hospital idea had come to Mel while she was standing on the porch or maybe while she was driving through the night. She said, “Right, right. But you said there was a fire, Momma.”
“I just wanted to press the wrinkles out of a dress. I was in a hurry to go and I forgot to turn off the iron,” the grandmother said. “I wasn't even in the house when it started. I missed the whole thing.”
The place was bigger than I'd thought at first. Big central hallway. Two dark sitting rooms at the front, a dining room midway, and on the other side, what looked like the grandmother's bedroom. The lamp next to her bed gave me a good view of this room. A wall of bookshelves. Dark woods. Everything else faded and tired-looking, even the book covers.
“No one was hurt?” Mel was asking.
“My neighbor saw the smoke and ran over here to douse the fire. His eyebrows were singed right off. He looked a bit overbaked for a few days, and now he's peeling. But other than that, no.”
“Well, that's good,” Mel said. I knew she was wondering the same thing I was: What did her sister's message mean?
“If I'd had to count on the fire department, I'd probably be standing on
your
doorstep this morning.”
Mel looked stricken, and the grandmother laughed.
It
was
kind of funny.
The kitchen was just the kind Mel was always yearning for. Old-fashioned, mainly. There was a plain white gas stove. And a pretty, green woodburner held a collection of old bowls on the stovetop.
But even that stove wasn't enough to distract the eye from the window over the sink. It was brand-new, with the store label in one corner. The wall above and the cabinets around had a dark color over the paint job, like storm clouds.
“I thought you said the fire was in the laundry room,” Mel said.
“This is an old fire,” the grandmother said. “I left the little window fan running while I went to the store. I'd done that a hundred times, but this time it overheated, burst into flame, and ate the curtains.”
“It must have eaten the window too,” Mel said, in that tone she uses when she
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