Chapter 24
In the evening, Annie came over, sinking into the couch with popcorn to watch a movie. Di’s phone quacked, and she began what I now referred to as the “real estate rumble”—pressuring an indecisive client to make an offer on a house. Then Di’s voice became cross and loud. Clearly, she was no longer speaking to a buyer. Loudly, she informed Callie she couldn’t watch television or use her iPad for a week.
“A week?” Callie said. “That’s seven days.”
“Don’t question me,” Di countered. “I’m in charge here, not you. I say how and when. And you say, ‘Yes, Di.’”
Callie was pale, her lips pursed, but she wasn’t crying. She was taking it like a soldier.
I was about to intercede when Annie flashed a look at me indicating Di had gone too far. That was when I noticed Di clutching her own jewelry—a watch, a pearl necklace, a pendant, and a gold charm bracelet.
“Look at this,” Di said to me. “I found these on her stuffed animals.”
I hated the way she said the word “her.”
“She took my jewelry out of my room,” Di said.
“Did you?” I asked Callie.
“Yes, because my lovies wanted to dress up for the party.”
“What party?” Di said.
Was she so out of tune she didn’t realize that Callie treated her stuffed animals as though they were real friends, better than real friends? Not only was her room overloaded with stuffies, which she sometimes called lovies, but she took one wherever she went.
Callie stared at Di, then looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said, studying the floorboards.
I expected Di to accept the apology, but instead I heard her say, “You think it’s that easy? Do you know what would have happened to me as a child if I had touched property—anything—that didn’t belong to me? You work for what you want. You don’t take what belongs to another person.”
Long ago, I had realized that any sentence addressed to a child that began with a reference to how things were in the old days was a waste of breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked Callie.
“Yes,” she murmured.
I rubbed her back. “Maybe you need air. Why don’t you go out back while we talk?”
Annoyed by my suggestion, Di stared me down. I had sent Callie to the tree house when Di wasn’t done taking her to the woodshed.
Callie stood her ground. “It’s not fair. I was going to put the jewelry back after the party.” Then, rarely without a book, she seized the one on the kitchen counter, escaping outside. When I saw her climb up to the tree house and start flipping through the book, I shut the windows. I would not let Callie hear one more word of this.
Annie leaned against a wall as though she was holding it up. Di stood tall with her hands in her trouser pockets, a posture of authority.
“Don’t tell me you plan to let her get away with this.” Di sneered.
“I want to understand why she did it. And you should too.”
“You want me to forget she went into my drawer and took my property? That little thief.”
Annie jumped in. “Di, drop it. She’s a kid. She was looking for something to do.”
“She’s a kid? You’re the one who’s a kid. And why don’t you butt out of this?”
“Let’s not get personal here,” I said.
“Oh, so you’re on her side,” Di said, glaring at me, about to boil over.
“I’m not on anyone’s side—except my granddaughter’s side.”
“How? By spoiling her rotten until she thinks the entire universe should cater to her. Entitlement—that will serve her well in this hellscape of a world.”
“You know, Di, I’ve had enough. You’ve harassed me since you ran into me at Arlo’s country store.”
“Did you enjoy seducing him?”
“I was not seducing him. He asked me, a podiatrist, to look at his toe. That’s it. That’s all. I’ve never cheated on my husband, and I’m not starting with Arlo. He’s all yours.”
“You bet he is, Joanne, or is it Jane—plain Jane?”
“Oh, Di, why don’t you shut up,” Annie said, her expression sour. “Arlo is too good for you.”
“Says the infant who lives with Milton Robertson.”
“Jodi’s watching Mac while Lisa is in Boston. You’re not even supposed to be here,” Annie said.
“And you are? You’re supposed to be here?” Di huffed.
“I didn’t tell Lisa I was going out of town,” Annie retorted.
Di echoed Annie in a whiny voice.
“Grannie Annie, my ass. You’re not even a real grandma,” Di said.
Annie gawked as though she had been struck by lightning. I expected her to fall over. I knew then that she really believed she was a grandmother. I hated to see Annie hurt. She was more of a grandma to Callie than Di would ever be. Annie would have questioned Callie about the jewelry, explained rationally why it was wrong to take it without asking. Then, surely, Annie would’ve warned Callie not to ever do it again. I could imagine her words: When you want something that belongs to another person, even your grandma, you must ask.
“This has to stop now,” I said, holding my arms out as though pushing two wild women apart.
“Yes, it’s time for her to go.” As Di pointed at Annie, Di’s phone rang—the awful duck sound.
Sick of her and her nonstop phone conversations, I said, “Please don’t answer that phone now. We don’t want to hear your bullshit.”
“Or your damn phone quack,” Annie said. All I could think was how long Annie must have been saving her thoughts about Di, yet she’d acted respectfully day in and out.
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Di said, about to answer the call.
Annie strutted toward Di, stared into her face. “I’m going, but I’ll be at the school tomorrow for the nature walk.”
What? What did she say?
“Annie,” I said, “I told you that wasn’t necessary.”
“Of course it is,” she retorted. “You’re going to do it? You were heaving after chair aerobics.”
“Annie, that’s not true. And I can’t believe you said that.”
“You two can stay here and argue. I’ll be at one with nature and Macallan tomorrow,” Di said. Her phone quacked again, and for the first time, she ignored it.
“What are you talking about?” Annie shouted over the quacks. “You’re the last person Mac wants on a nature walk. I doubt you even know where her school is.”
“Believe me, I know. It’s on Maple Street.”
“Oak,” Annie said.
“And Maple,” Di said.
“Look, stop this, please. Lisa wants me to go on the hike. She left me the information. I’m the one going.”
“No way. Babette George will be there.”
“So what?” Annie said, squinting her eyes as though Di was impossible to understand.
“The word is she’s considering listing her mansion.”
“Look, I’m Grannie Annie. I go on the school trips whenever Lisa needs help. And I mean whenever. You two stay home.”
My face felt hot. I was not holding back. “Annie—calm down, don’t be silly. I’m in Woodfield for a short visit. You’re at these events all the time. Certainly, you wouldn’t begrudge me.”
“I don’t care if you’re here for an hour, I’m not missing out on this one,” Di said. “And as for you, Annie, why don’t you dump my ex-husband before he dumps you? Get yourself a life.”
Annie went wild, grabbing the first thing she saw: Chester, the stuffed tarantula. She took her shot, aimed full force at Di, who caught Callie’s favorite stuffie and whacked Annie with it, over and over again, like a wet towel on someone’s naked rear end in a locker room. Annie became feral, her eyes wild as she lunged forward, grasped an orange-striped leg, and cursed Di with a slang dictionary of feverish words.
Annie was out of her mind, but everything she said was true, punctuated by vocabulary Di had earned. I stepped back in disbelief, petrified they’d ruin the tarantula, knowing how much Callie valued him. I had to save Callie’s beloved creepy-crawly before he lost a leg or was reduced to shreds. I lunged into the fray, fighting for Chester. “Give him to me,” I yelled, jerking, wrenching the stuffie from them.
Di let loose of the tarantula, and I snatched it from her hand. “Grow the hell up!” I screamed. I thought it was over. But not a chance. Di slapped Annie across the face.
And then. The worst. The bottom of the pit. The horror of it all. A snivel, a whimper, a moan, crying, bawling, hysteria. Callie. Oh, no. How much of the conversation had she heard? If it was one syllable, it was too much.
Callie came through the door, staring at me, then Di, then Annie, assessing three losers.
Di zipped her lip. Annie froze. I moved toward Callie, but my granddaughter had exploded, reminding me of her mother as a teenager—holding nothing back, laying the blame, pow, pow, pow , full force.
“I don’t want any of you to go on the nature walk,” she shrieked. “I’m going alone.”
“Honey, you can’t go alone,” I said.
“Yes, I can,” she snarled. “I’ll tell the teacher. Ms. Burch is a pacifier, and I’ll tell her all you do is argue. And, if she sends me to the principal, I’ll tell him you’re the worst grandmothers ever. He’ll believe it because Di won’t go out with him anymore. We have a social worker who helps kids. I’m going to tell her about you and you and you. No, forget that. I won’t go to school at all. Maybe I’ll run away.”
I was breathless. “Oh, Callie, no. I’m sorry. We love you so much. That’s why we all wanted to take you on the hike.”
“It’s not a hike. It’s not a hike. It’s a walk. You don’t love me. You hardly come here. And, Di, you don’t love me. You only want to sell that woman’s big house.”
She stared at Annie. “You’re not really my grannie. You asked me to call you that. I miss my mom. I want my dad. I hate you all,” she screamed, bolting up the stairs, my heart gone with her.