This scene gives a bit about the house and also of one of the problems in the story
The
Victorian house I’d lived in since my dead husband and I had settled in this Hudson
Valley Santa Fe
I
paused at the foot of the steps. “Why don’t you call your grandmother? I’m sure
she’d be glad to see you and as proud of your accomplishments as I am.”
She
shook her head. “And bring my problems with my uncle on her head? He hated my
mother. After my dad died, Mom asked him for help and he refused.” Tears
glittered in her eyes. “You should have heard the things he accused me of after
my cousin’s death. I’m better off staying away from family.”
I
touched her hand. “The accident was five years ago. Surely he’s over the loss
by now.”
She
combed her fingers through her short honey blonde hair. “He never forgives or
forgets.” She handed me the basket. “Have to change for work. See you
tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,”
I echoed and followed her inside. Robespierre trailed me upstairs. There, I
spilled a little food in his dish. He thinks he should be fed every time he
returns from outside. I always indulge him by adding a few dry tidbits I
put the kettle on. I hurt for Jenna. She’d seen more tragedy in twenty-three
years than anyone should bear. Her father’s death, her mother’s alcoholism and
series of abusive relationships. Orphaned at fourteen, she’d gone to live with
her grandmother. Three years later, there’d been the accident and her cousin
had died. For some reason I hadn’t learned until recently, Jenna had become a
runaway.
This scene gives a bit more about what's happening in the story.
Before
I had a chance to see who had arrived, the cat slipped through his door. When I
saw him on the landing with my young friend Robby, I called a greeting.
“Mrs.
Miller, can I visit?” Robby asked. “I need to ask you something really
important.”
“Over
milk and cookies?”
He
nodded. “Mom said I can have three.”
“How
does peanut butter with chocolate chips sound?” His grin provided my answer.
“Oh,
yes.” He bent and scratched Robespierre’s head. The large cat rumbled like the
sound of distant thunder.
Once
the ritual greeting ended, three cookies and a glass of milk waited on the
table. Robby pulled a stool to the sink and washed his hands. “See. I
‘membered.”
“So
you did.” While he ate the first cookie, I filled a mug and sat across the
table from him. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
He
propped his elbows on the table. “How can a boy be happy his grandma died? If I
had one, I would be sad.”
I
sipped the tea. “That’s a hard question. Want to tell me how you learned the
boy was happy about her death?”
He
leaned forward. “He’s in my class. Always saying bad things ‘bout her. Said she
was rich and mean ‘cause she wouldn’t buy him all the toys he wanted.”
“Sounds
like he’s greedy.”
Robby’s
head bobbed. “He sure is. Always saying how his things are better than mine
‘cause they cost more.”
“So
why was he happy she died?”
“’Cause
his mom and dad don’t fight with his grandma ‘bout her money. They got it all.”
I
cradled the mug. “Is he happy now?”
“Guess
so. He says so but he’s still mean.” Robby reached for a second cookie. “He got
a new bike and lots of video games. He’s gonna live in a big new house. They
can ‘ford a new one ‘cause no more money goes to that place.”
My Places
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