and glasses that had been abandoned, picking up crumpled napkins. Martha looked around and saw Ruby, so she went up to say good-bye.
“It was really an honor to work for your father,” Martha said. It seemed like the right thing to say.
“That’s sweet,” Ruby said. “Oh, I almost forgot. Come with me.”
Ruby led her back to the office, and gave her an envelope with her name on it. “To thank you for all your work,” she said, sounding strangely formal.
“Oh, no, I already got paid,” Martha said.
“This is just a little extra.”
“I couldn’t.” Martha held the envelope out to Ruby.
“Take it,” Ruby said. She looked like she didn’t really care if Martha was going to or not, but didn’t want to deal with the back and forth.
“Well, thanks.”
“Sure. I know he wasn’t always that easy to deal with.”
“Oh, no. He was great. Really. He loved your presents, I think.”
Ruby laughed. “No, he didn’t. I never knew what to get for him.”
“He did, I think. Even if he didn’t use them all the time, I think he really loved getting them.”
“Thanks,” Ruby said. She looked around the office.
“Thank you again.” Martha felt like she’d done a good deed, like she’d made the day better for Ruby. She smiled as she let herself out the back door.
MARTHA HAD GOTTEN A CALL from the caretaking company, just a few days after Mr. Cranston passed, which seemed a little insensitive, but it was their job, she supposed. They asked if she’d be interested in a new placement, and because she hadn’t thought too far ahead, she said yes.
This was a different sort of job. She’d be with a woman in her early sixties who had fallen and broken her hip. The woman lived alone and would need help getting to the store and moving around. Martha was happy to take a job with someone who wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Although sixty was fairly young to break a hip. This woman probably hadn’t gotten enough calcium or done any of the light weight lifting that could help prevent bone deterioration. Well, no matter. Martha could talk to her about all of those things.
They met once, briefly. Sharon Cooper lived alone in a much smaller house than the Cranstons’. Her husband was dead, she told Martha, but she didn’t elaborate on it. Martha wondered if he was older or if he’d had an untimely death. From what she could tell from the pictures in the house, she had a few children and a couple of grandchildren. Martha stopped in front of one picture of a blond girl, about three years old, hugging a teddy bear.
“She’s so cute,” Martha said. Sharon just smiled. “I’m just about to become an aunt. My brother’s going to have a baby.”
“Congratulations,” Sharon said. And that was that. Well, never mind. They had plenty of time to get to know each other.
It would be strange to be in a new house all of a sudden, surrounded by a new family and a new story. It seemed not right to just leave the Cranstons when she’d been such a part of it. But she knew she could always go and visit Jaz over the next few months. Jaz would be happy to have a friendly face, she supposed, while dealing with the house and the loss of Mr. Cranston. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d make a plan to go there next week and have tea with Jaz.
AT HOME, CLEO SEEMED TOO PREGNANT to even breathe. Martha had never spent this much time up close with a pregnant person—other than when Weezy was pregnant with Max, and Martha didn’t remember that much. It was fascinating. Sometimes Cleo leaned back on the couch, shifting around.
“The baby’s feet are in my ribs,” she’d say.
“Really?” Martha asked. What a strange thought to have feet kicking you in the ribs.
Cleo nodded and puffed a little. She was pretty irritable, but it seemed to be that Max was the only one she took it out on. Martha couldn’t really blame her. She looked like she was about to pop.
“You’re so close,” Martha told her one day. The due date was just a week away. The two of them were lying on the couch watching TV, and Cleo’s breathing was so loud it was almost distracting.
“I hope I make it until then,” Cleo said.
“You will.” Martha patted her big, swollen feet. It was the first time she’d seen any part of Cleo that wasn’t pretty and perfect,