Page 52 of Bargain with Fate
This was now a security issue. Meemaw’s last nerve was a danger to everyone, not just Louise. “What about a game night?You keep it limited to the usual suspects, plus Bernice. Make sure they’re teammates.”
“I don’t see how a card game will help them get to know each other better,” Margie said.
“Not cards. A game that encourages sharing personal information. Little-known facts.”
A slow smile spread across Meemaw’s face. “Leave it with me.” Her smile turned sly. “And you’ll play, too, of course.”
“Oh, I don’t think you need me there.”
“I insist.” Meemaw folded the map. “I helped you, now it’s your turn to help me.”
“Let me know where and when, and I’ll be there.” Margie downed the remainder of her wine. “For now, I’m going back to bed. Square dancing wiped me out. Hope you catch this shadow soon.”
“Me too.”
Margie padded down the hallway back to her bedroom.
As Meemaw began to twist the lids back on the jars, I noticed one of the labels I’d previously missed. “Why do you have a jar labeledBuck?”
“Because I have strands of hair from Buck McKinley’s werewolf hide,” she said, completely matter-of-fact.
“Dare I ask why?”
“When I saw the opportunity, I took it. Werewolf hair can be surprisingly useful in spells. I keep a lot of pieces of Neighbors.”
“I’m beginning to understand your fascination with serial killers.”
“Oh, please. They’re not trophies; they’re useful. Besides, I’ve seen way worse on this island. Have you ever taken a stroll in the woods the morning after a full moon?” She grimaced. “If you haven’t, I don’t recommend it. The older those shifters get, the more mess they make. It’s like they’ve forgotten how civilization works.”
“I’m sure some of them behaved no better on the mainland.”
She snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. I have stories of my own that would give you nightmares.”
Same, Meemaw. Same.
“What’s been your worst experience so far?” I asked.
“On the island?”
“Anywhere. You’ve lived a long life. You’ve born witness to atrocities. You’ve presumably survived horrible circumstances at least once, if you’re lucky. I’d like to know what you’ve survived.”
All the air seemed to seep from Meemaw’s lungs. “I don’t think there’s enough liquor in my cabinet for that answer.”
“I was talking to Kaito the other day, and he’s had such a fascinating life.”
“The origami fella?”
“Yes. Did you know he was a plantation worker in Hawaii? Then later he survived the San Francisco earthquake in 1906.”
“Hmm. Thatisinteresting, but since when do you engage in idle conversation about our personal experiences?”
Meemaw was right. I tended to shy away from sharing personal anecdotes because I had very few I could offer in return. Neighbors were nosy, perceptive, and worst of all, talkative.
“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” I said.
She gathered the jars in her arms and returned them to the pantry. “If you need specific information from me, Maya, spit it out. You know the only games I like involve money and edibles.”
“I swear it’s my own curiosity. I told Kaito he was a walking history book, but I bet you all have incredible stories to tell.”
