“She was ninety-two and passed the way she would’ve wanted.” Ricki smiled, but her eyes glistened. “She was out backtending her flowers, and her heart gave out. She was gone before the ambulance arrived.”
“And she was sharp as a tack,” Blythe said. “You couldn’t pull the wool over her eyes. Ever.”
Ricki grinned. “And you tried.”
“We tried. Too many times.” Blythe laughed. “And we failed every fucking time.”
“So how long have you been friends?” Abby asked.
“Seventh grade,” Blythe and Ricki answered in unison.
“We played on the same softball team.” Ricki groaned. “I know. Such a stereotype.”
“Of course, I was the star of the team,” Blythe said.
“Yeah, okay.” Ricki shook her head as she pulled into a driveway between two nearly identical bungalows. She drove into a tiny garage at the back of the property. “If you call playing right field the star.”
Abby wasn’t a huge sports fan, but she knew right field wasn’t for the star player. “What position did you play?”
“Don’t get her started,” Blythe said. “She was the shortstop.” Blythe drew out the wordshort.“Whoopity doo dah.”
“Can you tell she’s still bitter?” Ricki turned off the car. “We’re home.”
Abby looked around the yard as they exited the garage. “This is such a cute area.” Despite the darkness, she made out the flowers in the backyard. Were they still the ones Ricki’s grandma raised?
“We can show you the garden tomorrow,” Blythe said. “When it’s light.”
Abby’s cheeks heated. Blythe must have noticed her gaping. “I’d like that. I need ideas for my yard. For the past few years, I’ve focused on the inside, so I’ve done little outside.”
Blythe tilted her thumb toward Ricki. “She’s the woman you need to talk to. She inherited Granny’s green thumb.”
Ricki reached out and took Abby’s bag from her and started down the driveway.
“Where you going?” Blythe asked.
“Let’s take Abby through the front door,” Ricki answered.
“Ah, trying to impress her?” Blythe took Abby’s hand and hurried after Ricki. “It looks pretty cool from the front entrance,” Blythe whispered.
Ricki unlocked the front door and flipped the light switch before she stepped back and motioned for Abby to enter.
Abby’s eyes widened. It wasn’t what she had expected. Earlier, Ricki said the bungalow was built in the 1930s, so she assumed the inside reflected the same age. Instead, the crisp white walls accented with black and silver filled the space.
“Wow,” Abby said as Blythe led her into the living area. Her face warmed. First she’d gaped outside, and now she stood as if she’d never seen modern decor before. “Did you have this done after…uh…after your grandma passed?”
“No to both,” Ricki said.
Both?
“She’s just showing off,” Blythe said.
“You helped,” Ricki said.
“I did.” Blythe put her hand against Abby’s back. “Ricki and I did most of the work.”
“What did you mean, no to both?” Abby asked. It surprised her how comfortable she already was with the pair. Normally, she wouldn’t be asking so many questions.
“Granny was an original.” Ricki’s eyes reflected her affection. “I moved in with her after I graduated college. Shit. It’s been almost ten years. Anyway, Granny said old lady stuff was boring and wanted to modernize.” Ricki waved her arm toward the industrial handrailing on the staircase and then swept it toward the black recessed fireplace. “This was what she wanted.”
