Meemaw
June MacCord has several life ambitions, but one of them is to attend the wedding of at least one of her grandchildren. Admitting her age is something she does, if only begrudgingly. With her recent injuries, June begins to suspect she isn’t as spry as she once was.
Ol’ Eddie does indeed exist, although this version does not have a sawed-off barrel, and June knows she’d never use it on Beckett. Still, the tease was fun, and she has no regrets about bringing up marriage between her handsome doctor neighbor and her granddaughter on their first date.
Her hearing isn’t what it once was, but it’s still surprisingly good for someone who’s in their seventies.
She listens to the sounds coming from the kitchen, where her granddaughter prepares lunch.
She sinks her head back into the couch pillows and closes her eyes, straining to hear the doctor’s low rumble and her granddaughter’s quiet murmur.
June’s lips curl into a frown as minutes go by and she can’t make out any of their words.
A huge crash of metal on metal causes her eyes to fly open.
“Woah, that was heavier than I thought it would be.” The low voice sounds above the ringing of the metal.
“Yeah, you need some serious muscles to lift them. But I thought everyone used cast-iron around here,” the granddaughter says.
“Nah, I don’t own a cast-iron pan. I don’t do much cooking, honestly.”
“My mom switched to cast-iron when we were growing up, and they took a long time for me to get strong enough to lift, but I prefer them now.”
The ringing stops, and the voices drop back to a quieter pitch that June can no longer hear. But that doesn’t bother her at all. She has an idea. Not just any idea. A brilliant idea.
Sliding her phone open, she begins carrying out her not-fully-formulated plan.