"I saw you do it. You were so upset talking about Walter that I guess you didn't notice what happened." I go over to the paper towels that are next to the sink. "Finish making the coffee. I'll clean it up."
"You see what that man does to me?" She shakes her head. "Here I am making a mess and I'm so upset I didn't even notice."
I wet some paper towels and get down on my knees to wipe up the grounds.
"Faith, just use the broom. It's in the closet."
"I don't need the broom. I'm almost done." I wipe up the last of the grounds then get up and stand next to Grams. "You didn't answer my question."
"What question was that?" she asks, pushing the start button on the coffeemaker.
"The one about you and Walter going to dinner."
"We didn't go to dinner. We had dinner here. I roasted a chicken and made mashed potatoes. He has some wild raspberry bushes so I used the berries to make a cobbler. Aside from the company, it was a pleasant meal. Quite good if I say so myself."
"I still don't understand why you'd invite someone you can't stand over for dinner."
"I was being polite." She goes over to the fridge and takes the creamer out. "I had just moved here and Walter was the only neighbor around so I went over and introduced myself. I thought perhaps he had a wife and I'd invite them both over but when I saw what a mess his house was, it was clear there was no wife living there."
"So what did he say when you invited him over?"
"He agreed, obviously."
"I know, but a single woman asking a single man over for dinner?"
Her brows draw together. "What are you implying?"
"Just that it sounds like you were asking him out. Like on a date."
"I did no such thing!" she scoffs. "I was simply trying to be nice."
"Yes, but maybe Walter thought you were asking him out."
Her hands go to her hips. "Faith Elizabeth Howard! How dare you accuse me of acting like some desperate trollop begging for the affections of some man I don't even know!"
She used my full name. She only does that when she's furious with me.
"Grams, I wasn't accusing you of anything. It was just a comment. For people my age, inviting a guy to dinner would be considered a date but I guess it's different for your generation. I'm sure Walter assumed you were just having him over to be friendly."
She turns on her heels and goes back to the table where she was sorting silverware. She picks up a knife. "It's completely rusted. Why would she keep a rusty old knife? It's a health hazard."
I walk over to her, knowing I should drop the topic but it's already out there and she's already mad at me, so I might as well go for it.
"So you had him over again?"
She hands me a spoon. "This one's good. Put it in the keep pile."
Not sure where the keep pile is, I hold onto the spoon and say, "You mentioned having dinner with Walter more than once. So did you invite him over again or go out somewhere or—"
"I went to his house." She clears her throat. "We had short ribs and scalloped potatoes. And a blueberry pie for dessert."
"Walter made all that?" I ask, surprised.
"Heavens, no. The man can barely heat up a can of soup. He ordered the food from a restaurant in town and plated it as though it were his own, which is another reason not to like him. I barely knew the man and he was already lying to me."
"By pretending he made the food? Grams, people do that all the time. Mom never made any of the stuff for my bake sale fundraisers at school. She always bought stuff and let people think she made it. There's nothing wrong with that. Walter was probably just embarrassed he couldn't cook and wanted to impress you."
"Well, I found it offensive. You don't invite someone to dinner and then lie about where the meal came from. It's dishonest and socially unacceptable, at least it was in my day."
I'm not going to argue with her. We clearly have differing opinions on the topic.
"Is that what started this feud? The fact that he didn't actually make you dinner?"
"It wasn't that, but that certainly didn't work in