“She looks… different. Smaller.”
“She’s suffering from dementia,” Conley said quietly. “That’s her son, Sean. He runs the pharmacy now, and Miss June has been talking about you lately. We thought—well,Ithought it was such a nice day…”
Before she’d finished the sentence, Toddie was striding toward the car, arms outstretched. “June Kelly!” she called. “Come here and let me give you a big old hug!”
“Toddie?” June said. She looked at her son. “Is that really Toddie? She looks old!”
“Mama!” Skelly said.
“She’s right. I do look old. Iamold.” Toddie enveloped the smaller woman. “Oh, June, my old friend. How I’ve missed you.” She left an arm slung around June. “And Sean! The last time I laid eyes on you was when you were crying to get away from one of my mules.”
Skelly grinned. “I’ve been trying to live that down for more than thirty years. And I’m still not crazy about an animal that could kick you in the head and kill you.”
“Seanny works at the store now, Toddie,” June said proudly. “He’s a big help to me.”
“I’m sure he is,” Toddie said. She looked past the Kellys at Conley, who was hanging back, not wanting to interrupt the reunion.
“Is this your wife, Sean?”
“Uh, no, Mrs. Robinette, er, Toddie. That’s Sarah Conley Hawkins. Her family lives two doors down from Mama’s house. Maybe you remember them?”
“Lord, I’ve been living out here in the country, away from civilized society in Silver Bay, for so long you’ll have to remind me of their names,” Toddie said.
“Why, Sarah is Lorraine’s granddaughter,” June said. “Lorraine Conley. You know, them; Lorraine and Woodrow, they run the newspaper.”
“Of course,” Toddie said, nodding. “That would make you Melinda and Chet’s daughter, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Conley said, feeling suddenly awkward.
“I hope your parents are well,” Toddie said. “It’s been a long, long time.”
“Melinda ran off some time ago, and we don’t know where she is,” June volunteered. “And Sarah’s daddy’s dead. Like my Patrick. Did you know my Patrick died, Toddie?”
“I didn’t know that.” Toddie nodded gravely at Conley, with just a hint of a twinkle in her cornflower-blue eyes. “But my condolences to both of you.”
Skelly’s face blushed crimson as he glanced from Toddie to Conley. “Sorry, y’all. Mom’s, uh, sort of unfiltered these days.”
June pointed a bony finger at Toddie. “Whatever happened to that sorry husband of yours, Toddie?”
“Why, he ran off with a younger gal who didn’t sass him half as much as I did,” Toddie said good-naturedly. “That’s when I said good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Oh my God, Mama!” Skelly pulled her by the hand. “I think maybe we need to be getting you home for a rest.” He turned to Toddie. “I don’t know what to say, Toddie. I’m mortified. Truly.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Sean,” Toddie said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I feel badly that I’ve let so much time go by without connecting with people from my old life. It’s just that we stay so busy out here at the farm, I lose track of time.”
“It’s just as beautiful here as I remembered from when I was a kid,” Skelly said.
“Thank you. My son, Hank, works here right beside me, and of course, Rebecca lives on the property now too since her divorce, in what we call thelittle house.Her girls are teenagers now, if you can believe it. How about you, Sean? Do you have kids?”
“No, ma’am,” Skelly said. “Divorced too, unfortunately.”
Skelly nodded at Conley and then, pointedly, in the direction of the car. “We’d best be getting her home now. Mom loves getting out and seeing people, but when she gets overtired, I never know what’s going to come out of her mouth.”
“My granny was like that when she got dementia,” Toddie said. “She once told our pastor he oughta pass around the collection plate and buy a new set of teeth for himself and a larger size dress for his wife.”
“Ouch.”
“It was good seeing you again, Sean, and June, of course. Any special reason why y’all came all the way out here today?”
