More often than not, she was there, soaking in the warmth.“Hi, honey. I’m making dinner for Shirley.”
It took a minute for that to sink in. “You’re cooking the cat dinner?”
“Well, of course. You don’t like to eat cold food every night, do you?”
Um. Okay. But I wasn’t a cat. “What is it you’re heating up?” I probably didn’t want to know. Not really. But a strange compulsion overtook my senses, and I asked anyway. Dumb, huh?
“She really likes Spam mixed in with some tuna and a little of her moist food. Don’t you, baby?” Grandma sing-songed to the tabby.
“Wait a minute. You actually put canned cat food in my Calphalon pan? Grandma, no.”
“What? Your pan is too good for my Shirley? I hardly think so. Don’t be silly, Elizabeth. It will wash.”
I really wanted to point out to her that I wasn’t the silly one. Most people would be as grossed out as I was at the thought of heating up cat food on the freaking stove. But. She. Is. My. Grandmother. I must show respect.
“’Kay, just don’t use any other pan. That can be Shirley’s pan. Lucky cat.”
Mental note to self: replace cat pan with human pan as soon as possible. Oh, and don’t use cat pan for soup or any other human food.
Well, unless I had a reason to cook for Marc again.
“I’m going to take a bath and get ready for bed. I’m meeting Maddie tomorrow for lunch, so I won’t be here. Will you be okay?” Maddie had spent the previous night at Spencer’s so was unavailable for our planned talk. I figured a Saturday afternoon was better anyway. More time to explain I wasn’t crazy.
“Joe’s coming by to take me to the hospital to see Vinny. I’ll be fine.” Grandma Verda spooned the absolutely disgusting mash of weird food into a bowl and set it down for Shirley. And, I have to admit, the feline pounced on it as if it were a feast for a king. Or, in this case, a queen.
You know how certain cooking smells just linger and never really dissipate—like, cabbage? Well, that smell would likely never leave this apartment. Probably, I’d have to find a new place when, and if, Grandma moved out.
An hour later, I was tucked into bed. Grandma had insisted that the bed Scot brought over was sufficient, that she didn’t need my larger one. This, as silly as it sounds, made me happy. I loved my bed. It was the only valuable piece of furniture I’d purchased when I moved in.
“Good night, Grandma. I’m glad you’re here,” I said into the dark.
“’Night, baby. Thank you for having me.”
My eyes closed. I stuck my nose into my pillow. I’d sprayed it liberally with my peach-scented body spray to douse out the cat-food stink. I had a feeling I’d be sleeping like this for the remainder of Grandma’s stay.
And then, out of nowhere, a warm breeze touched my cheek, and the heady fragrance of flowers overtook the peach. I squeezed the blanket tight around me, curling my fingers into a fist. Excitement and apprehension mingled as I waited.
“Elizabeth, can you see me this time?”
My eyes popped open. Yep, she was back. No way could I ignore her, either. The entire room swirled with a kaleidoscope of light as Miranda’s voice hit my ears. It was if a million rainbows were in my bedroom, shooting off in a zillion different directions.
Great. Now Grandma would know about Miranda. I hoped like hell it didn’t scare her to the point of a stroke. Or a heart attack. “No,” I whispered, squinting through the colors.
“What? Lizzie, did you say something?” asked Grandma Verda.
“No, Grandma.” Keep your eyes closed, I prayed. Just keep them shut.
“I need you to see me. It has to be you. No one else has been as strong as you are. You’re the only one I’ve really been able to connect with.”
“I can’t see you,” I whispered. And what did she mean “connect with?”
“What the hell is this? Lizzie, what’s going on? Who else is here? Are you on the phone? What’s with all the damn color? Is this some disco thing?” My grandma’s voice flooded the room. She wanted answers, and she didn’t sound scared at all.
“Can you hear her, Grandma?”
“Verda, can you see me?” Miranda asked, ripples of excitement floating off each word.
Wait. Could ghosts get excited? Apparently, they could. “Who is that? Who’s talking to me?” Now Grandma sounded nervous.