already. So, I would probably be fetching coffee and sending emails for the life coach specialist.
I frowned at my bum wrist. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too much typing. I could handle a few emails and social media, but day-long typing wouldn’t work.
After one more quick search through the listings, I decided that the assistant to the life coach was my best bet and dialed the number listed.
An automated message answered. Hello. If you are interested in the assistant job, please come to 676 Firefly Lane to apply in person. Thank you.
I raised a brow. Firefly Lane was a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. This job was sounding stranger and stranger.
What the hell. Even if the job didn’t pan out, at least it was still Margarita Monday.
Chapter 2
“Never a borrower or a lender be. Why? Because keeping track of stuff is a pain in the rump.”
-Notable quotable from Grammy B
“Grammy?” I called as I walked into the front door of my grandmother’s cottage that was two streets back from our own. “Are you here?”
Grammy B appeared wearing a powder blue tracksuit with white piping and pink fuzzy bedroom slippers. “Joey! What a nice surprise. And don’t you look all gussied up?”
“Thanks.” I had taken a hot bath and put on my best outfit. Tailored black slacks and a matching jacket topped a deep blue shell that matched my eyes. I’d even re-applied my make-up. Mascara and eye shadow made my eyes itch like the devil and peri-menopause hot flashes caused me to sweat foundation off, but anything to take a few years off my face. I had scrounged in my bathroom drawers and found a tinted lip balm to give my winter pale face a bit of color. My dark brown hair was still threaded with gray because I didn’t have time or money to deal with it. I had spent a few moments pulling it back up into a French twist. Even though it was treacherous in the winter, I had dusted off my black heels, though I carried them. My feet were currently shod in my standard hiking boots and thick socks.
“So, what brings you here?” Grammy settled herself in her scuffed Lay-Z-Boy recliner and kicked up her feet, clad in socks that said, “Fuck off, I’m reading.” Grammy didn’t believe in beating around the bush.
“I was wondering if I could borrow Earl.” Earl was my grandmother’s ancient truck. It got about three miles to the gallon but it ran and I was out of options. “I know you don’t like to loan him out, but I have a job interview and no other way to get there.”
Grammy moved her dentures around as she considered my offer. “How about a trade? You make me some of those fancy apple oatmeal cookies of yours and I’ll let you drive Earl as long as you want.”
“Grammy,” I sighed. “You know the doctor said you’re supposed to cut back on sugar.”
She waved me off. “Doctors, what do they know?”
“Um, a lot. Because they went to school for like a decade to become doctors.”
“You know what your grandpappy used to say. You can send a monkey to college but all you get back is an educated monkey.”
It was no use arguing with her. Grammy B was ninety-three years old and feisty as the day was long. She had a bit of country wisdom for every occasion and was more stubborn than any one person had a right to be. There was no changing her. She’d said once that the main benefit of aging was that you could speak your mind and not give a damn about who took offense. I was still waiting to crest that particular peak.
“One batch of cookies,” I said, feeling like a bad granddaughter. Maybe I could call the doctor’s office and ask about sugar alternatives.
She folded her hands, looking like the cat who’d gotten into the cream. “Keys are in the silver dish on the counter. And bring me my crossword. And a cup of tea.”
“Thank you.” I got up and headed into the kitchen.
The counters were all wiped down and the sink stood empty of dishes.
I raised my voice to make sure she heard me. “Grammy, did you eat today?”
A grunt was my only reply. I put the kettle on and then checked in the fridge to make sure that her milk hadn’t gone bad and that she had plenty of meal options. Mom and I took turns cooking for Grammy and cleaning her house.