Page 71 of Satisfied By the Slime
It always comes.
Gram looks at me and her expression remains unchanged.
Calm.
Evaluating.
Like she’s reading a recipe and deciding whether to double the vanilla.
She turns back to Mrs. Pritchett. “You put Maisie’s friend in a holding cell? All because he found Gary’s missing cat? Good Lord, what is wrong with you, Deborah?”
Mrs. Pritchett’s chin lifts. “It’s a creature. An unknown. We have protocols—”
“Whose protocols?”
“The NeighborhoodWatch—”
“The Neighborhood Watch.” Gram scoffs. “You and Gary and a clipboard. Is that what you’re invoking, Deborah? A clipboard?”
Mrs. Pritchett’s face flushes. “We have a responsibility to this community. People have a right to know what’s living among them.”
“And what is living among them, exactly?” Gram’s voice stays level, almost conversational.
“Eleanor, you can’t possibly—”
“I raised that girl.” Gram points at Maisie without looking at her. “Taught her everything she knows about reading people and reading situations. Are you questioning her judgment, Deborah?”
The silence stretches.
Mrs. Pritchett’s eyes dart between Gram and Maisie, something collapsing in her posture. “I—of course not, but—”
“Good.” Gram folds her arms. “Because if Maisie vouches for this individual, then that’s enough for me.”
Mrs. Pritchett’s voice comes out small. “Did you know? Aboutthis… monster? All along?”
Gram holds her gaze. “Since the day I came back to town.” She lets that settle. “The Lord’s got a bigger imagination than we gave Him credit for.”
Mrs. Pritchett’s mouth works around words that won’t form.
Her hands hang at her sides, empty of rope, empty of conviction.
The clipboard on the table might as well be on another planet.
Gram lets the silence do its work. She has the particular patience of someone who has waited out alpacas, children, and a husband who thought he could fix the plumbing.
Finally, Mrs. Pritchett speaks. “Eleanor, I was only trying to—”
“I know what you were trying to do, Deborah.” Gram’s voice softens by a fraction. “You were protecting this town. That’s not nothing. But right now, you need to do something harder.”
“What’s that?”
Gram nods toward the cell.
Toward me.
“Thank him for finding Captain. Then let him out.”
Mrs. Pritchett’s face cycles through resistance, confusion, and something that might be the beginning of humility.
