Page 93 of Mad Mabel

The neighbors don’t deserve to have their lives upended like this. All of these people, my neighbors, deserve to be safe. And as long as I live on Kenny Lane, I am putting all of them at risk.

61

When Persephone asked me if she could have one of her friends over for a playdate, I’ll admit I didn’t jump at the opportunity.

“It’s bad enough having one small child to look after,” I told her, “two of you will put me in an overdue grave!”

The child had laughed heartily and now I find myself entertaining her and her little friend Delly.Delly!Ridiculous name. Nugget, judging by her incessant barking, is just as unhappy about it as I am.

“Grandma? Grandma? GRANDMA?”

It takes four attempts for me to realize that Delly is addressing me.

“Did you just call me Grandma?” I ask, appalled.

Delly raises a defiant eyebrow.What of it?

Bold as brass, Aunt Cess would have said.

“She’s not your grandma!” Persephone says, howling with laughter. “She’s not evenmygrandma!”

“Then who is she?”

“Sheis a fool,” I say, “for agreeing to have you two for afternoon tea.”

Another round of giggles.

It pains me to say it, but Delly is a dear little girl, with thick black hair in pigtails with red ribbons and an absolute belief in herself that I haven’t seen even in grown white men. I’ve spent the entire afternoon watching her, wondering what she is going to do or say next. Persephone is watching her too. Watching them together, I find myself thinking about Cess and Ness. And Daphne and me.

“I’m going to call you Grumpy Granny,” Delly says after a moment.

“Me too,” Persephone says.

They roll about in hysterics. Pieces of work, both of them. And yet, I’m not offended in the least. In fact, as I make my way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, I find myself chuckling.

“Can we make an apple pie, Granny?” Delly says.

“Yeah, Granny!” Persephone echoes.

“No. You’ve already had an ice cream, a bowl of grapes, and some popcorn.”

Delly and Persephone are already pushing stools up to my kitchen counter. Persephone gets my apron off the hook on the back of the pantry door and puts it on.

“For pity’s sake,” I say, getting the pastry out of the freezer.

“I like your granny,” Delly whispers to Persephone, as they roll out the pastry a few minutes later.

“Me too,” Persephone says. “You’re the best granny in the world, Elsa.”

“An honor,” I mutter with faux grouchiness.

But my heart hurts because I know that being the best grannyin the world isn’t just about baking or sleepovers. The best granny in the world wouldn’t let her presence put them in additional danger. The best granny in the world would make sure the child—and her mother—was safe.

With great honor comes great responsibility.

Persephone had gone home, as had Delly. They’d eaten the entire apple pie, bar one slice that I’d saved for my dessert. After Roxanne came to take Persephone home I noticed the plate that I’d left the remaining piece of pie on was empty.

I chuckle. You had to admire the audacity.