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“What!?”
“I told you people would be drawn to it.”
“Yeah, but it’s only been a week, right?”
“Less than,” she says with pride.
“Good job.” Max nudges me at the table from where he rests at my feet, and I obey running my fingers through his short fur as I survey the kitchen which looks like it peaked somewhere in the late eighties. Laney sets an ancient egg timer and places it next to salt and pepper shakers that look eerily like the dog I’m scratching. Everything in the house is outdated, much like the furniture. Crochet blankets hang over the back of every couch. The décor is what I imagine an antique shop will look like in a few more years.
Though the house is a time warp itself, it has that cozy, lived-in feel. It’s cluttered with years of pictures. Some yellowed and worn on the edges inside the frames.
“It’s outdated, I know,” Laney says, watching me carefully. It was Gran’s; and Momma and I moved in when she got sick the first time. I was three.”
She reads the question in my expression of how she passed.
“Cancer. She beat it once. She was in remission most of my life, but they caught it too late this time. She passed in February.”
“I’m sorry.”
She swallows and nods. “We can’t bring ourselves to change anything yet.”
I see brief sadness cross her features. “Sweet tea okay?”
“Sure.”
She pours us each a glass as the air grows thick with silence. I’m used to the distraction of noise. It’s a constant for me. The only sound in the room is the slide of her chair as she takes the seat across from me and the ticking of an old plastic clock.
“It’s quiet here.”
“Peaceful,” she corrects.
“Where is your mom?”
“She works nights. She’s an LPN at a nursing home here in Polk.”
“So, you’re here alone at night?”
“Suddenly you’re worried?”
“I wasn’t serious out there. I would have given you a running head start.”
“You say that now.”
We share a grin.
“I used to camp out there with Devin when we were kids. I miss it.”
“Why can’t you do it now?”
She shrugs. “I’m afraid it won’t be as magical as it was back then. Plus, she’s too busy plannin’ her weddin’.”
I try to hide my smile and fail.
“What?”
“Your accent. You keep forgettin’ the G.”
“I’m well aware my accent is thick. Some people think it’s charmin’.”
