South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [38]
“That’s no excuse.”
“It’s the best excuse she’s got.” Gladys clucked at Marley, and he—the traitor—hopped into her lap.
“That is completely lame. Her behavior is inexcusable. She’s an Unfit mother, he should be taken away from her.”
“Glad to know you’ve got everything all figured out,” Gladys said, her tone dry and her eyes still skimming the paper.
“Oh—forget it,” Madeline snapped, disgusted with Gladys, and Arbutus, too. She’d seemed nothing but pleased to see Greyson, absolutely Unconcerned that his mother was hours late to get him. Didn’t either of them wonder how that made him feel? She finished the dishes in angry silence and decided to finally tackle the flat on her car.
It took her half an hour to wrangle the kicksled out of the way so she could get at the jack, and then get the jack set to her satisfaction, another ten minutes to find the lug wrench and get the first nut loosened. She kept having to reread the owner’s manual, which was—miraculously, really—stowed in the glove box. No matter how frustrating it was, it beat reviewing what a wonderful mother Randi Hopkins was. She gave the next lug nut a fierce wrench and it loosened. She got through the other three that same way: I do not, wrench! like, wrench! Randi Hopkins, wrench!
All done. She stepped back, inspecting her progress. What next? She was on her stomach trying to attach the doohickey to the jack when a great feeling of peace washed over her. Who needed therapy when you had a crappy old car to contend with?
Gladys watched Madeline out the parlor window. When she rolled over on her back and grinned at the sky, Gladys thought, At least she worked that out of her system. For the moment. How like she was to Joe in some ways. Quick-tempered, judgmental, so sure of being in the right, so slow to forgive. Stubborn and guarded, not one to wear her feelings on her sleeve. But she seemed to have a good heart like Joe too. Not that Madeline would ever believe that about him.
Gladys knew she’d started things off wrong with Madeline, snapping at her when she asked which house in McAllaster had belonged to Joe. She wasn’t sure why she’d done that. Maybe because Madeline already had her mind made Up about him. Maybe because her tone that morning had reminded her of Jackie, however Unfairly. Too familiar somehow. Chummy ahead of real friendship, charming you out of something. Probably mostly because Gladys felt guilty. For years she had told herself there was no reason why she should, but it was a feeling that would not go away.
Gladys let the lace curtain fall back across the window. She stood frowning for a moment, then headed to the kitchen for a bucket of hot soapy water and some glass cleaner. Enough brooding. Brooding never did any good.
9
What jackasses,” Gladys cried after she’d returned from a walk to the post office and was opening the mail one morning the next week.
“What is it?” Madeline asked, looking Up from a crossword.
Gladys flapped the papers in the air. “The nerve!” She inhaled a wavering breath. “Those people. I should have known.” She began to pace around the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?”
“They can’t get away with this. Why, I ought to—” She slammed a fist down on the table. “Bullies, that’s what they are. They think they can have anything they want, any way they want.” She was trembling with anger.
“Gladys, stop. Please sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down. I will not stand for this kind of—malarkey.”
“You’re going to make yourself ill. Stop a minute and breathe.” Madeline had stood Up and now prodded Gladys toward a chair.
Gladys sat, making sharp, furious exhales. Madeline went and got her a glass of water. When she’d drunk a little of it, Madeline pulled Up a chair and tugged at the letter Gladys still had clenched in her hand. When she finally wrested it free she saw that it said that due to nonpayment of accounts due, Alex and Terry Benson of Benson’s SuperValu were pursuing a case in court, to be heard at the courthouse in Crosscut on August the sixteenth.
“Oh, Gladys. This is bad. I