Evie knocked on the door.
Jo worked nights and weekends, so Wednesday afternoons, she was free. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the new neighbor wrapped up in a scarf and knitted cap, demon red hair flowing on her shoulders, a tray of pastries in her gloved hands.
Dylan had just gotten off the school bus and he popped over to size up the confections. Evie had an assortment of pecan rolls with caramel coating the top, danishes with cream cheese nestled in the middle, strawberry cakes and numerous cookies, just so she'd be sure her new neighbors would find something they liked on the tray.
"For helping me move in."
"You didn't have to do that," Jo said as she lifted a pecan roll.
Dylan had a danish in one hand and a strawberry cake in the other.
"These are good." With strawberry cake crumbling in his mouth, he said, "Now I know why she's fat."
"Dylan! Go to your room."
He trotted off. As long as he didn't have to surrender his sweet treats, he didn't care.
Jo took her by the elbow and led her down the hall. Jo held the tray while Evie unwrapped the mounds of coats and scarves, freed her hair from the knitted cap. Her skin was rosy from the cold.
"Really, Evie, you didn't have to do this."
"It's fine. I bake all day long. I don't have much else to do with my time."
Evie set the sweets on the kitchen counter. She went through the plywood cupboards, but found no teapot.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh," Evie said, putting her hands behind her back. "I thought, since I'm here, we might as well have some tea and chat. It might be nice to get to know each other."
"I haven't chatted with an adult outside of work in so long, I don't hardly know where to start," Jo said, grabbing a pair of mugs from the cupboard. Not that Evie was much of an adult. She looked more like Brantley's age.
When she produced a couple of teabags, Evie squealed, "That's so nifty!"
Jo smirked. "You don't have to be nice."
"No, really. Gran likes to have loose leaf and it has to be steeped properly. Otherwise, I would have started getting teabags a long time ago."
Jo slid into a seat. "So, where are you from, Evie?"
"All over," she said. "Gran and I have to move a lot."
Jo immediately noted the demon red hair. They were technically Caucasian, but with the old woman's accent, it was just barely. They would have been thrust out of many communities. The South was worse than the North, but there wasn't much choice in PC. Jo didn't ask why they didn't move to the West.
"Have you tried New York?"
Evie said, "It's been a long time. The city is too big for Gran. And when you move upstate, then you get all the people who came over on the Mayflower and were part of the original thirteen colonies." Evie made her voice nasally, copying the people of the east coast, "Here, let me show you my lineage papers. Look at how green they are. Lawns aren't as green as my lineage papers." Then she rolled her eyes. "Not for me."
"I'm from Tennessee. I can trace my lineage to Russia." Jo stroked her graying auburn hair. The locks were wiry. "When I was young, I tried to dye it brown, but the dye always washed out after a day or two. My mother stopped buying it for me. And when I moved out, I couldn't afford it."
"Tennesee was horrible," Evie said. "I had to use ink to dye my hair when I lived there."
Jo remembered ducking into the Woolworth store and browsing the hair dye. She never wanted to dye her hair a demon color. She couldn't remember if they offered Evie's shade. But then, Jo hadn't lived there for dozens of years.
"Ohio pretends to be more liberal," Jo said. "I have a son studying history and political science at The Ohio State University. He gets his undergrad degree next year and then he and his girlfriend are moving to New York. The city. Maybe New Jersey, when he discovers how expensive the city is."
"You have a son in college?" Evie said, her eyes the size of saucers and her mouth open. "You?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it!"
Jo snickered. Watching Evie's eyes change size and the movement of her lips was like watching a cartoon.
Evie said, "It's not possible. I'm older than you."
Jo couldn't help laughing. Across from her was a chubby flower child wannabe, peasant shirt, broomstick skirt, soft face, pear-shaped body, mound of demon red hair. Jo was easily twice her age.
"You're lying," Evie continued. "Dylan is an only child because you couldn't possibly have another child who is all grown up and off on his own."
"Brantley's not completely on his own yet," Jo sighed. Seemed like yesterday that she was holding a little bundle in her arms. "But soon."
Dylan sauntered into the room. He went to the tray of treats, but Jo screamed, "Back to your room! You have forfeited your right to cakes and cookies. March!"
YOU ARE READING
The Lamb and the Gray Battle
FantasyEvie has spent the last 575 years on the North American continent, now called America, the Pure and Clean. She smiles, volunteers and makes cakes and pastries for her neighbors, hiding away her demon blood. She wants nothing to do with her estranged...