South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [29]
She nodded. Maybe they would, no matter what Gladys said. Arbutus was quiet but she was determined, and once she got an idea about something Madeline thought she was not likely to let go of it easily. The house was a few blocks away from Gladys’s, on Mill Street. Madeline had gone there to tend the flower beds. Butte’s flowers were much more rambunctious and disordered than Gladys’s, much prettier really, and more numerous, though her yard was a fraction of the size. Her place was sweet but minuscule, no more than twenty feet by forty, with no garage or shed, even, and Madeline wasn’t sure it would bring what she owed if they did decide to sell.
“They ain’t got much, really, but what they do got is going fast. Them bills from the hospital is eating it all Up.”
Madeline nodded again.
Emil tapped his fingers on his ankle. “This ain’t a good time for it,” he said at last. “All mud out in the woods with this rain. Hard to get back in where I usually go. Plus the State’s keeping a sharp eye out, setting Up a sale. Hell, they’ll ruin more’n I could ever take if I kept at it steady all year. Knock it over, leave it to rot, God help you, you go in and take a piece. But I’ll get ’em some wood.”
“Thank you.”
“You tell Gladys she can pay me when she’s got the money around, no sooner. And send me out some more of them cookies. That’s the interest on the loan.” He cackled and clumped his right foot to the floor, startling Sal.
“I’ll tell her.” Madeline stood to leave and then she said, fast before she could think better of it, “So, did you know my grandfather?”
“Know him? Slept two to a bunk with him coupla winters in lumber camp down at Wolf, it was that damn cold. Tipped down a few at the Trackside with him now and again too, long time ago. Yeah, I knew him.”
Madeline waited, but Emil didn’t offer anything else, so she walked to the door, relieved in a way.
“Don’t forget them cookies,” he said.
She forgot the apples. “I’ll go back,” she told Gladys when she realized.
“I suppose you’ll have to. I thought of a few other things. Make sure you tell Albert it’s for me. It makes a difference, don’t think it doesn’t.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“Get a rutabeg if he has any. I’ve got such a taste for them browned in butter, Mother fixed them that way. Get some asparagus too, Butte loves asparagus.”
“Okay.”
“Get a gallon of milk at the gas station, Unless you want to run to Crosscut.”
“No, I’ll get some.”
“Get carrots. And make sure the spuds are firm. And check the onions, he might have Vidalias. Don’t let him sell you any of last winter’s yellows, their texture’ll be no good. And look at the apples, if he got any. Make sure there’s no brown spots, and make sure they’re tart. I don’t want any sweet apples.”
“I’ve purchased an apple before, Gladys, I think I can handle it.”
“I want what I want, that’s all.”
“Don’t we all.”
Before Madeline got halfway down the walk Gladys opened the screen and called out, “Make sure you stop by Mary’s stand, see if she needs help with anything.”
Madeline waved without turning and got in her car, which still sported its gloved wiper. Also it was developing a knock she couldn’t account for and the tailpipe was crumbling, eaten away by rust. She backed out onto Bessel Street, but there was a strange lurchiness in the car’s bearing, so she stopped to investigate and found the rear tire on the passenger’s side flat. This she was not prepared for. She thought wistfully of her old familiar car guru. She needed a new Pete Kinney. Was there even a mechanic in this town? She supposed there must be, and supposed too that really any self-respecting McAllaster-ite would know how to change her own tire. She sighed and considered her options and then pulled the Buick carefully back into the drive.
After a moment’s more consideration she headed down the street on foot rather than taking Gladys’s car. It was a beautiful