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I shift the urn to my other hip, the weight of Mom’s judgment pressing down on me. “What about Reverend Tom and the church ladies?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’re talking about a new punk band, they can get their own damn lunch.”

“No, I mean, they’re at my house. With food. Probably tons of it. Jeanie went home to let them in.”

“Good. Let Jeanie eat Crock-Pot delight and lime ambrosia with the denture squad. You and I have a date for triple-decker sandwiches from Mimsy’s.”

A fleeting memory of shiny chrome stools and vanilla Cokes with paper straws brings me to the edge of losing it again. “Mimsy’s closed. Last year.”

“Closed?” Her mouth hangs open, exposing several silver fillings. “As in closed down?”

“As in, there’s a nail salon there now.”

“Damn. Guess it’s church lady surprise for us, too.” The Cutlass creaks and moans as Grandma yanks her door open. “Come on, hop in.”

Empty fast-food wrappers and Styrofoam cups litter the passenger seat, and I shove everything to the floor before climbing in. A grainy photo of my grandmother smiles up at me from the trash pile—a laminated ID card, attached to a purple lanyard—and I fish it out.

Bold black letters spell out P-r-e-s-s above her photo, her name scrawled in red ink at the bottom. “What’s this?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” She chuckles as she pulls away from the curb.

I flip the ID over, looking for proof that it’s authentic. “Where’d you get it?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re wondering. Did you think I wandered the country going to rock concerts for fun?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. I’d never questioned my grandma’s motivations for what she did. Mom called her an old hippie, so that’s how I always thought of her.

This time, she throws her head back and laughs. “Even an old girl like me has to make a living somehow. Classic cars like this don’t pay for themselves.”

Lost for words, I give the press pass another quick once-over.

She nods toward the glove box. “Put that where I won’t lose it, would you, sweetie?”

The latch sticks, so I give it a yank. The little door flies open, launching the contents toward me like projectile vomit. Without missing a beat, Grandma slams the door shut, but not before a few crumpled packs of Camels, a baggie with three joints, and several mini liquor bottles land at my feet with a clink.

“Just toss it in the back seat.”

From the time we leave the church until we pull into the driveway alongside Mom’s ancient, faded-green Explorer, Grandma Lola waxes poetic about coleslaw and turkey sandwiches, making whatever casseroles the church ladies left us seem all the more unappetizing.

“I still can’t believe Mimsy’s went out of business. I’ve been craving one of their turkey Rachels since hitting the state line.” When I don’t respond, she follows the path of my eyes to the shiny black four-door parked along the curb. “The church ladies, I presume?”

“No.” I sigh. “Just Reverend Tom.”

“What the hell’s he still doing here?”

“Probably waiting for me.” I don’t tell her I slipped out after the funeral without saying goodbye. Or how he spent a lot of time at our house when Mom was sick. If she had gotten better, I have no doubt he would’ve come around even more. I didn’t mind so much then. It gave me a chance to breathe once in a while. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to discuss my feelings now.

“Oh, hell. If I’d known I was about to face the wrath of God, I would’ve fired up another doobie.” Grandma cuts the engine and turns to me. “Guess we’d better get this over with.”

We don’t get far before Jeanie bounds down the front steps as if the devil himself is on her heels. She plants her bare feet in the grass and presses her fingers to her pink lips, staring at our grandmother as if seeing a ghost. She looks so small standing there, so much younger than her twenty-two years, and for the first time, I recognize the weight of grief in her eyes.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispers. “I just knew it.”

Grandma Lola opens her arms. “My goodness, Jean-Jeanie, you’ve grown up!”

“One of us had to.” Jeanie’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as she falls into Grandma’s arms.

“Well then.” Grandma pats Jeanie’s back. “I’m glad it was you.”