Doris wasn’t buying it. “What’ll you have?” she asked sternly, pen poised above her pad.
Acknowledging defeat, Joe gestured to Kathleen, who ordered her usual BLT. He followed, saying he’d take a Reuben sandwich. After Doris walked away, Kathleen said, “Still thinking you can make her smile?”
“Oh, it’s going to happen,” he said. “No doubt about that. Right now I’m just ruling out everything that doesn’t work. I know now that she won’t smile for baseless flattery, lame jokes, grade-school magic tricks, or an outright request for a smile. This is all important information.”
“Have you tried sticking straws in your nose walrus-style?”
“No, I haven’t. Do you think that would work?” Joe held his straw between two fingers, considering the idea.
“No. I just wondered how far you’d go.”
“Please, Kathleen. Let me have my dignity.”
Just as their sandwiches were being delivered, the outside door swung open, and in walked Joe’s grandmother, her walker leading the way. Behind her, her friend Howard held the door, his cane holding him steady. Joe glanced up and said to Kathleen, “It’s my grandmother. You’ll finally get a chance to meet her.”
He stood and waved them over. Over the last few weeks, Joe had gotten to see Pearl’s softer side. He’d realized that so much of her bluster was a cover for fear. She was afraid that Howard was the only one at Pine Ridge Hollow who liked her. She mourned the lost years with her son. She was terrified of dying, both the pain of it and the lack of knowing what was on the other side. Joe was aware that her life had not gone as she’d wanted and that much of it was her own fault, but that was behind her. He tried to help, sharing his thoughts on the afterlife and heaven, and although she didn’t look entirely convinced, she’d murmured, “I hope you’re right, Joe.”
It seemed to take forever for them to get to the table. When they did, Howard solicitously pulled out a chair for Pearl, then folded up her walker and leaned it against an adjacent wall before taking a seat himself. Joe did the introductions, and Kathleen explained that she and Howard had already met. “Mr. Donohue came to visit my aunt when she was in hospice,” she explained. “You were old friends, right?”
He nodded. “I knew Edna back when we were all younger than the two of you. Back before she had the store, even. She used to do upholstery and seamstress work out of her home while she took care of her mother, who’d suffered a stroke. Apoplexy is what they called it back then. She was quite a gal, your aunt.”
“Yes, she was,” Kathleen said, and went on to explain how she hadn’t expected to inherit Edna’s entire estate. “I really didn’t know her very well until the end of her life, but when my mother and I came up here to help, we just hit it off. She was a dear; even when she was in pain, she always had a kind word for everyone. All the nurses loved her. Aunt Edna was one of a kind, as good as the day is long.”
Pearl, who’d seemed engrossed in the menu, perked up. “Did you say ‘as good as the day is long’？’”
“I guess I did.”
“That’s an odd phrase for a young person to use. I haven’t heard that in a long time.” Pearl’s brows knit together.
Kathleen gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s not something I usually say. I must have picked it up somewhere.”
“Probably from working around all the antiques,” Joe suggested. “You’re absorbing things from yesteryear. Pretty soon you’ll be talking about darning socks and churning butter.”
Doris paused at the table, long enough for Pearl and Howard to give her their orders, and then she was gone again. Joe brought up the break-in at Kathleen’s house the night before, telling them that nothing was taken.
“I bet it was teenagers,” Howard said.
Pearl nodded in agreement. “Looking for money for drugs. That’s what kids these days are after.”
Kathleen changed the subject. “Mr. Donohue, Mrs. Arneson, as long as both of you are here, can I ask you some questions about the history of Pullman? Specifically, the movie theater?”
“The Victory, right here in town?” Howard asked.
“That’s the one. Do you remember if they once showed silent films?”
His head bobbed up and down. “That’s all they showed at the start. Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks. We saw ’em all. I went nearly every week, even if the show hadn’t changed from the week before. This was before television. Seeing those picture shows moving on the screen was like magic.”