grandma to get her through the next few nights while Glory worked the closing shift at the Saddle Rack. Wrapping her raincoat over her new flannel PJs, she darted down the stairs and into the small farmhouse she grew up in.
Jelly Lou sat in her wheelchair watching the limbs of the peach trees droop with rain. She wore teal sweats, matching fuzzy slippers, and pink lipstick.
Glory kicked the door shut and low grunting was the only warning she got before a soft nose and scaly head disappeared beneath her pajama leg.
Part dinosaur, part honey badger, and wearing more body armor than a gladiator, Road Kill, her grandmother’s armadillo, was so excited by the smell of the chili that he was trying to climb her leg to get it and leaving little claw marks all down Glory’s shins.
“Down,” Glory said, giving her leg a little shake.
Fingers between her teeth, Jelly Lou let go a whistle that had Road Kill peeking out from the fabric and scurrying over to his master, his weapon of a tail smacking everything he passed.
“We thought you’d come right over to tell us how your test went,” Jelly Lou said, picking up Road Kill and placing him in her lap. He curled up, but his eyes stayed locked on the crockpot. “Then we saw Cal McGraw’s truck in the drive and figured you needed some time to pull yourself together.”
Glory shrugged out of her raincoat. “He was just being neighborly.”
Jelly Lou raised an amused brow. “Is that why your face is all flushed?”
Since Cal was a topic she was determined not to obsess about, Glory went into the kitchen and straight to the coffeemaker, not slowing down until she poured herself a big steaming mug.
A warm calmness washed over her as she breathed in the familiar scent of freshly baked cornbread and lavender soap. So many times over the years, Glory had come home from school to find her grandma at the counter cooking up dinner, a bowl of potatoes waiting to be peeled or peas to be shucked. Jelly Lou believed that family was about caring, standing together—side by side through even the toughest times.
There had been a lot of tough times in Glory’s life and Jelly Lou had never faltered in her support. She had given Glory stability, affection, a safe place to be a part of—and so much love.
Glory took her first sip of her coffee when Jelly Lou and Road Kill rolled in. Not wanting her to bring up the midterm again, or God forbid Cal, Glory gave her a kiss on the cheek and asked, “Did you reschedule your physical therapy appointment?”
“Who says I missed it,” Jelly Lou asked causally, stroking Road Kill’s head, and Glory pierced her with a knowing look—which was met with an innocent shrug, so Glory waited.
A good and long time.
With a huff, Jelly Lou caved. “I called his receptionist this morning and she said Dr. Moore is booked out for two weeks. Then she had the nerve to say she was charging me, even though he didn’t help me none. How can someone charge for doing nothing?”
“Easy. He got to sit around wondering why he rushed to work at eight o’clock on a Monday when his eight o’clock was a no-show. And since you didn’t call in advance to cancel and you don’t have a good excuse for missing it, he gets to charge you for his wasting his time.”
“I had a good excuse.”
“Breaking into Ms. Kitty’s barn and stealing her tractor?”
Jelly Lou said not a word, just grabbed some napkins and spoons, and rolled over to set the table.
With a sigh, Glory served up two bowls of chili, topped them generously with shredded cheese, and set them on the table. She set a cob of corn on a napkin and placed it on Road Kill’s chair—which he vacuumed up the second his feet made contact with the cushion. “I’ll stop by Dr. Moore’s office tomorrow and see if he can squeeze you in this week.”
Jelly Lou clasped her hands together. “Such a good granddaughter. How did I get so lucky?”
“We can discuss that after you explain exactly what you were