A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(12)

Courtney responded with a weak smile.

“You’re the apple of my eye, my youngest grandchild.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“I’ve always regretted that Ralph didn’t live long enough to know you.”

Her grandfather had died when Courtney was a few months old. “Me, too.”

“Now, what I’m about to say is only because I love you.”

Courtney bristled, bracing herself for another lecture. “Grandma, please, I know I need to lose weight. You don’t have to say it, all right?” Courtney couldn’t keep the defensiveness out of her voice. It wasn’t as if she could avoid looking in mirrors. She was overweight and well aware of it. The weight gain had happened after her mother’s death; until then, she’d been a size ten and suddenly, poof—she’d blown up into a sixteen. The thing Courtney resented most was being reminded of it by all those well-meaning folks who assumed it was easy to drop thirty-five pounds.

“Actually, that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” Her grandmother released Courtney’s face. “I think you need friends.”

“So do I.” She missed Chicago so much, she could cry just remembering everything and everyone she’d left behind. Even her house, which had been rented out for the year.

“You aren’t going to meet anyone holed up in your room, sweetheart,” her grandmother said gently. “You need to get out more.”

Courtney didn’t have a single argument. She lowered her eyes. “I know.”

“Come with me and I’ll introduce you around.”

She opened her mouth to object, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Her grandmother caught her by the hand and dragged Courtney toward the kitchen. The scrambled eggs were on the table and Courtney could’ve sworn they were the same eggs her grandmother had cooked the day before.

“I thought we’d go to the library and then the grocery store and after that, the yarn store.”

In other words, Courtney was being kidnapped.

“I’m ready now, dear, if that’s all right with you.”

“Me, too, Grandma.” The sooner she gave in, the sooner she could get back to her room.

“Let me check to make sure the lock on the front door is turned,” her grandmother said.

Actually, it was a full seven minutes before they left the house. After checking the front door, her grandmother went into the bathroom to refresh her lipstick. Then she decided she shouldn’t leave the eggs out, covered them with a piece of wrinkled plastic and set the plate in the refrigerator, which confirmed Courtney’s suspicions. Those were the same eggs as the day before.

“Are you ready now?” her grandmother asked, as if Courtney was the one holding up the process.

“Anytime you are.”

“Oh!” her grandmother cried. “I nearly forgot my purse,” she said, giggling. “My goodness, I might have locked us out of the house.”

Finally they were outside. The car, parked in the driveway, could’ve been in a museum. From what Courtney’s father had told her, the 1968 Ford Ranch station wagon was in prime condition. Well, it should be. The car was nearly forty years old and had only 72,000 miles on it. The door weighed a ton and creaked when Courtney opened it. Without another word, she slid onto the seat next to her grandmother.

Driving with Vera was not an experience one engaged in willingly. Once she’d started the engine, she turned to Courtney. “Look behind us. Is anyone coming?”

Courtney twisted around. “You’re fine, Grandma.” Then it occurred to her that her grandmother hadn’t asked this out of idle curiosity. “Grandma,” she said, “why didn’t you turn around and look?”

Her grandmother squared her shoulders. “Because I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, child? I can’t turn my head. I have this crick in my neck. It’s been there for twenty years—I never had such pain. The doctor said there’s nothing they can do. Nothing, and so I suffer. I don’t like to complain and I wouldn’t, but since you asked…”

Although the thought of being a passenger while her grandmother drove terrified Courtney, she didn’t say a word. What was the point? She’d managed to avoid car trips for the last few days, but she’d realized her luck couldn’t possibly hold.

Another question occurred to her. “Grandma, what would you do if I wasn’t with you?” Courtney suspected, fearfully, that her grandmother would just put the car in Reverse and gun it.

Tight-lipped, her grandmother adjusted the rearview mirror, using both hands to move it one way and then the other. “That’s what mirrors are for.”

“Oh.”

“Can we leave now?”

Her questions had clearly offended her grandmother. “Sure,” Courtney said with an enthusiasm born of guilt.

Her grandmother half turned to glance at her as they reached the first stoplight. “If you’re concerned about your weight, Courtney, I could help.”

Courtney eyed her suspiciously. “How?”

“Exercise. I swim in the mornings and you could join me and my friends.”

That didn’t sound like much fun, but then exercise wasn’t supposed to be. “I guess.”