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“Yes.”
“I’m on it. Tell her we’re fifteen minutes out.”
FIVE
LULA ALMOST JUMPED the curb when she saw Grandma in front of the hair salon. Grandma was wearing a blond Marilyn Monroe wig, a hot pink tank top, black Pilates pants, and black kitten heels. She looked like the senior version of an inflatable sex toy doll that needed more air.
“Your granny’s real fashion forward with the retro wig, and I love the little pink tank top,” Lula said, “but we gotta fatten her up. I don’t like to be critical, only she’s got too much skin. You could fit a whole other person in that skin.”
Grandma tottered over on her little heels. “What do you think?” Grandma said, climbing into the backseat. “I bet you didn’t know who it was standing there until I waved at you.”
“It’s a good disguise,” Lula said, “but you might be cold in that tank top when you get into the hospital.”
“I got a sweater in my purse,” Grandma said. “I’m all prepared. I could take care of any situation. I’m packing heat more ways than one.”
Lula pulled out into traffic. “You telling me you got a gun?”
“Of course I got a gun. I got a big one too. A person’s gotta be prepared. You never know when you might have to stop a bank robbery.”
“That’s true,” Lula said. “Good thinking.”
“It’s not good thinking!” I said.
Grandma clicked her seat belt into place. “You sound like your mother.”
“Sometimes she’s right.” Truth is, she was almost always right. And my life would probably be improved if I listened to her more often.
“What are you girls doing today?” Grandma asked.
“We’re going to check out Cranberry Manor,” Lula said. “It’s one of them exploratory trips.”
“Maybe I could go with you,” Grandma said. “I always wanted to see Cranberry Manor. I heard a lot about it. And then you could drop me off at the hospital on the way back.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Lula said. “Granny could be our decoy. We could go incognito.”
Grandma sat forward. “I could say I’m interested in moving there on account of my son-in-law is a horse’s patoot.”
“And your mother wouldn’t get so mad at you if she found out you took Granny to see about moving into the old people’s home,” Lula said.
A half hour later we parked in the visitors’ lot and entered Cranberry Manor through the front door. It was a typical senior living complex, with a pleasant reception area and two wings for residents.
“This is real pretty,” Grandma said. “They have flowers growing outside and everything looks fresh painted.”
“That’s not going to last long being that they’re broke,” Lula said.
&
nbsp; We stopped at the small informal reception desk in the lobby and told the woman we’d like a tour.
“I’m interested in living here,” Grandma said. “I want to see everything.”
“Wonderful,” the woman said, taking in Grandma’s hair and tank top, trying to maintain a friendly smile. “I’ll ring Carol. She’s our salesperson.”
Carol appeared immediately, undoubtedly excited at the thought of extracting money from someone who might not have heard Cranberry Manor was filing for bankruptcy.
“Just down the hall is the dining room,” Carol said, leading the way.
“I like the sound of that,” Grandma said. “Do they serve cocktails?”
