The Granny Game by Beverly Lewis Page B

Abby and the others. “Aren’t we, children?”
    Suddenly, Grandma wanted to hug again, starting with the youngest.
    Little Jimmy got squeezed almost to nothing.
    Carly and Shawn were next.
    And last, Abby.
    Grandma’s big, chubby arms pressed in around her. “My, my, you’ve grown,” said Grandma.
    Abby was pleased about that. She was glad she was getting taller. The oldest kid should be the tallest kid.
    Double dabble good!
    Stepping back, Grandma smiledsweetly. “I have the most delicious recipe for supper,” she announced. “It’s a surprise.”
    Abby shuddered. Not tonight , she thought. Not the very first night .
    Then she caught her mother’s eyes. Her parents had asked the kids to obey. They were expected to be polite. They must eat exactly what their grandmother cooked.
    Yikes!
    Abby was a jitterbox again.

    Abby led Grandma to the guest room. “Here’s where you’ll sleep,” she said.
    Silently, Abby waited.
    At once, Grandma began to inspect! She ran her fingers over the dresser. And over the top of the mirror. She looked under the bed and behind the nightstand.
    Abby was glad she had cleaned so carefully.
    At last, Grandmà sat down. Her eyes discovered the flowers. “How very pretty,” she said with a sigh.
    Abby grinned. “The flowers were Mother’s idea. But I cleaned your room.”
    Grandma was nodding. “Abby, you’re an excellent housekeeper.”
    â€œThanks.” She stayed in the room. Her grandma might need some help unpacking.
    Then Abby noticed a giant shopping bag. It was bursting with strange objects. Especially something round and silver.
    Gulp!
    The vegetable steamer!
    Abby had seen the silver thingamabob before. It had come with Grandma the last time!
    She thought of falling on the floor. She thought of holding her stomach. But Abby was the oldest. She had to behave. Dad and Mother would be unhappy if she didn’t.
    Abby didn’t dare gag. She didn’t dare faint on the floor. But she did take a deep breath. She’d have to eat steamed vegetables. Tonight!
    â€œGrandma?” she said softly. “What’s for supper?”
    â€œJust you wait and see,” Grandma said. Her eyebrows flew up over her big blue eyes. She seemed terribly excited.
    Abby got her hopes up. Maybe tonight’s supper wouldn’t include broccoli, after all. Maybe . . .
    She crossed her fingers. She didn’t hope to die, though. That came easily with eating yucky vegetables!
    â€œDid you feed Daddy broccoli when he was little?” Abby asked.
    A smile swept over Grandma’s face. “Ah, broccoli,” she whispered. “Doesn’t it have a nice ring to it?”
    Abby listened. She didn’t hear anything. “What ring?”
    Grandma waved her hand. “Oh, nevermind that,” she said. “It’s the taste that counts.”
    â€œThe taste?” Abby wanted to choke. How could Grandma think such a thing?
    Grandma held up the vegetable steamer. “Do you have any idea about this marvelous thing?” She stared at it, admiring it. Like it was a treasure or something.
    Abby tried not to frown . . . or cry. “Did my father eat broccoli when he was little? Did his brothers and sisters?”
    â€œIs the sky blue?” Grandma Hunter replied. She touched the flowers in the vase. “Are these daisies yellow?”
    Abby didn’t get it. Why was her grandma asking questions right back?
    Of course the sky was blue. And the flowers were yellow. Anybody could see that!
    Grandma folded her hands in her lap. “Well, Abby?”
    All of a sudden, she understood.Grandma was trying to say that her children did like broccoli.
    â€œThey ate many kinds of vegetables,” Grandma added. “Back in those days, children weren’t so picky.”
    â€œSo everyone ate broccoli in the olden days?” asked Abby.
    Grandma laughed. “My dear girl. I