My Sweet Annie

26

It was still light out when I pulled up at Gran's house again, the sunlight bathing a yard overgrown in her absence. Mark, the landscaper, had arranged to come out the next day to do some work on the place. Things inside were moving slowly, but at least the outdoors could be tamed.

I parked behind Gran's car and peered up at the front of the house. It was a beautiful building, and there was no indication from the outside that anything nefarious waited within.

You could just call Anabel. She's the nicest person ever. She'll let you come crash at her place.

You're taking advantage of her kindness. You didn't want to shoulder Colson with your bullshit, but you'll let Ana take it on?

I shook my head at myself. This was my problem to deal with.

I sent a quick text to my family group message.

ME: Still alive for the moment

ME: Went to see Royal and Mary Ellen today

I made it up to the house before my phone buzzed with a response. I unlocked the front door and opened it to a very enthusiastic Porkie.

"Hey, girl." I knelt down to pet her and rub her ears, which was challenging, because despite her age she was vibrating with excitement. It was kind of nice to have somebody so happy to see you, especially when you weren't very happy to come home. "You need to go out?"

She shot past me, crossing the porch with a rattle of toenails. She slowed as she braved the steps down into the yard, but she made it. I watched her for a moment before checking my texts.

MOM: Oh, Tabbycat, that's wonderful

MOM: How are they holding up?

ME: Royal's doing okay. Mary Ellen is doing okay too, all things considered.

MOM: Did she recognize you

ME: I think she recognized Royal recognizing me if that makes sense

MOM: I'm so glad you got to see them. It probably meant so much to him

ME: It was nice.

It had been nice...but I couldn't shake the discomfort about how Royal had pursued the topic of the diaries. Hadn't he understood why I felt they should go to my mother?

Then again, Royal was Gran's brother. He'd known her longer than any of us had, so maybe he had a point. He had loved her when she'd been a silly girl writing in her diary, way before any of the rest of us had been alive.

Maybe the books did belong to him.

It just didn't feel quite right.

ME: By the way I found something you might be interested in

ME: Gran wrote some diaries

ME: Just two of them, one from when she was young and one from recently

MOM: Really?

TIM: Hey cool that you saw Uncle Royal

ME: Yeah I'm reading them bit by bit, they're really cool but it feels wrong to binge them

MOM: Oh honey

TIM: Yeah tab, it's gran's legacy, not Netflix. Have some respect.

ME: 🖕

MOM: Tabitha

ME: It's how we say hello in Iowa

MOM: Stop it.