For some unknown reason, Terrence was on her mind. After all he had done to her, why was she thinking about him? What a way to start her day — angry. She pulled her jeans on with such vigor it was a wonder she didn’t rip them apart. And when she brushed her hair, pity the tangle that got in her way. Happy thoughts, Hope. Think happy thoughts.
She sat on the end of the bed for a moment trying to compose herself. Then came a gentle tap on her door.
“Gram? Are you awake?”
Like magic, the happy thought she needed had paid her a visit. She hurried to open the door. “Emma.”
“Shhhh. Mommy’s still asleep.”
“Okay,” whispered Hope. “We’ll be very, very quiet.”
When Emma looked passed her grandmother, her eyes became as big as saucers. She bolted across the room to the glass curio cabinet where Linda displayed her Barbie collection.
“Don’t touch,” said Hope, hurrying to catch up.
“Because they’re not for play.”
“What are they for?”
“To look at?”
“Because they’re very old.”
“You’re old — and I can touch you.”
Long before automobile dealers used the sales technique of bait and switch, mothers and grandmothers were already using it. “I know where there’s something better than those Barbie dolls.”
“Downstairs in the kitchen.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.” The word surprise, with the right emphasis, never failed with the five-year-old. Now all Hope had to do was figure out what that might be.
“How did you know which room was mine?” asked Hope as she took Emma by the hand to help her down the stairs.
“I knocked on all of them.”
“Of course, you did,” said Hope laughing.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish