worse.
“Cookie,” she said firmly, and handed him one. “Milk. It’s good, Bennett, just try it.”
The look of horror he gave her after he bit into the cookie he’d dunked in the milk seemed like a joke—until he bent, choking and spitting, over the sink. “Mom!”
“Oh, Bennett, c’mon. What?” The cookie she snagged was a little burned, but rock-hard. The milk would fix it.
Unless, of course, the milk was sour. Janelle spit her own mouthful into the sink, then ran the water to rinse her mouth. She looked at her laughing son. “You think that’s funny, huh?”
Bennett shook his head, but grinned. “Gross.”
Janelle checked the date on the milk. Sighed. It was expired by two weeks. “Was this open when you took it out?”
“Yes. But I didn’t do that to it!”
She laughed, loving him so much it hurt. “I know you didn’t.”
The carton was almost full, even taking into account the two glasses Bennett had filled. Which meant the milk had been opened but barely touched. Joey had told her that up until her fall, Nan had still been able to get around on her own. In the three months it took for Janelle to tie up her business in California and get out here, she’d assumed someone had been checking on Nan at least weekly—though seeing her now, it should’ve been daily. Janelle opened a pantry cupboard, studying the contents. Canned soups, dry cereal, plastic bins of pasta. The fridge was also crammed with plastic containers, but the first few she pulled out were expired, too. Clearly, she needed to take a good inventory.
“What are you doing?” Nan sounded hoarse, but her eyes were bright. “Oh, are you hungry? I can make some sandwiches....”
“Nan. No. That’s okay, I’ll make dinner in a little while.” If there was anything to make dinner with. “When’s the last time anyone brought you some groceries?”
“Oh.” Nan shuffled forward, paused with a fingertip to her lips, thinking. “That would be Deb and Joey. They came for New Year’s dinner. Donna and Bobby, too, along with the kids. And Joey a few days before that to bring me the turkey and my pills from the pharmacy.”
Janelle made a mental count. “So...a week or so? Did they bring you stuff for New Year’s, and other groceries, too?”
“They took me out to dinner.” Nan tugged at the fridge door, which at first didn’t want to give until she grunted and pulled harder. “I didn’t eat all of it—I brought some home with me. Where is it... Oh, there.”
She turned with a foil-wrapped container in her hands. “I had some spaghetti and garlic bread. I could heat that up for my supper, honey. You don’t have to make me anything.”
“Nan, you can’t eat that. If you want spaghetti, I can make some.”
She frowned. “It’s such a waste....”
Janelle took the foil package from her and peeked inside. “No, look. This is no good. You’d get sick eating it. And your milk was spoiled. I think I need to go to the grocery store. Like, tonight. Now.”
Nan looked briefly confused. “Okay, let me get my coat.”
“You can stay here.” Janelle tossed the leftovers in the can under the sink, now full, and pulled it out. Tying the bag shut, she bent to replace it with a trash bag from the normal spot. She looked beneath the sink, expecting to see bottles of dish detergent and other soaps, trash bags, a package of sponges. Nothing. “Shi—oot.”
“What? Mice? I had them come and put traps.”
Mice? “Good Lord, Nan, you have mice?”
“Well, no,” Nan said. “But I might get them someday, right?”
No argument there. Janelle checked for traps, just in case. She didn’t need one snapping on her fingers. The space beneath the sink didn’t have any. She took a deep breath.
First things first.
“Okay. I’m going to run to the store for some things, and tomorrow we’ll go through the house and make a list of everything we need, maybe take a trip out to the store together. How’s that
“Cookie,” she said firmly, and handed him one. “Milk. It’s good, Bennett, just try it.”
The look of horror he gave her after he bit into the cookie he’d dunked in the milk seemed like a joke—until he bent, choking and spitting, over the sink. “Mom!”
“Oh, Bennett, c’mon. What?” The cookie she snagged was a little burned, but rock-hard. The milk would fix it.
Unless, of course, the milk was sour. Janelle spit her own mouthful into the sink, then ran the water to rinse her mouth. She looked at her laughing son. “You think that’s funny, huh?”
Bennett shook his head, but grinned. “Gross.”
Janelle checked the date on the milk. Sighed. It was expired by two weeks. “Was this open when you took it out?”
“Yes. But I didn’t do that to it!”
She laughed, loving him so much it hurt. “I know you didn’t.”
The carton was almost full, even taking into account the two glasses Bennett had filled. Which meant the milk had been opened but barely touched. Joey had told her that up until her fall, Nan had still been able to get around on her own. In the three months it took for Janelle to tie up her business in California and get out here, she’d assumed someone had been checking on Nan at least weekly—though seeing her now, it should’ve been daily. Janelle opened a pantry cupboard, studying the contents. Canned soups, dry cereal, plastic bins of pasta. The fridge was also crammed with plastic containers, but the first few she pulled out were expired, too. Clearly, she needed to take a good inventory.
“What are you doing?” Nan sounded hoarse, but her eyes were bright. “Oh, are you hungry? I can make some sandwiches....”
“Nan. No. That’s okay, I’ll make dinner in a little while.” If there was anything to make dinner with. “When’s the last time anyone brought you some groceries?”
“Oh.” Nan shuffled forward, paused with a fingertip to her lips, thinking. “That would be Deb and Joey. They came for New Year’s dinner. Donna and Bobby, too, along with the kids. And Joey a few days before that to bring me the turkey and my pills from the pharmacy.”
Janelle made a mental count. “So...a week or so? Did they bring you stuff for New Year’s, and other groceries, too?”
“They took me out to dinner.” Nan tugged at the fridge door, which at first didn’t want to give until she grunted and pulled harder. “I didn’t eat all of it—I brought some home with me. Where is it... Oh, there.”
She turned with a foil-wrapped container in her hands. “I had some spaghetti and garlic bread. I could heat that up for my supper, honey. You don’t have to make me anything.”
“Nan, you can’t eat that. If you want spaghetti, I can make some.”
She frowned. “It’s such a waste....”
Janelle took the foil package from her and peeked inside. “No, look. This is no good. You’d get sick eating it. And your milk was spoiled. I think I need to go to the grocery store. Like, tonight. Now.”
Nan looked briefly confused. “Okay, let me get my coat.”
“You can stay here.” Janelle tossed the leftovers in the can under the sink, now full, and pulled it out. Tying the bag shut, she bent to replace it with a trash bag from the normal spot. She looked beneath the sink, expecting to see bottles of dish detergent and other soaps, trash bags, a package of sponges. Nothing. “Shi—oot.”
“What? Mice? I had them come and put traps.”
Mice? “Good Lord, Nan, you have mice?”
“Well, no,” Nan said. “But I might get them someday, right?”
No argument there. Janelle checked for traps, just in case. She didn’t need one snapping on her fingers. The space beneath the sink didn’t have any. She took a deep breath.
First things first.
“Okay. I’m going to run to the store for some things, and tomorrow we’ll go through the house and make a list of everything we need, maybe take a trip out to the store together. How’s that
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