Read Online First and Again by Jana Richards - Free Book Online Page B

cleared his throat.
    “Bridget, this is Mildred Kramer.”
    She forced a smile and shook the old woman’s hand. “Hello, Mildred.”
    “What did she say?” Fred asked.
    “I said, her husband left her,” Mildred replied, raising her voice several decibels. “He ran off with a younger woman. Now she’s broke.”
    Bridget cringed. Talk a little louder , why don’t you? A guy three states over couldn’t hear you.
    Don cleared his throat once more. “Well, we should get going. We’re here to visit Martha.”
    “What do you want with Martha?” Mildred asked.
    She stared openmouthed. The woman didn’t even bother to disguise her nosiness.
    “Bridget here is a cook. She wants to get Martha’s recipe for piecrust.” He took her elbow and steered her forward. “We should get going.”
    “What did he say?” Fred asked.
    She and Don made their escape through the front door, but not before they heard Mildred’s loud reply to Fred. Bridget quickly closed the door behind them, feeling like she’d just run a gauntlet.
    “Good grief, does that happen every time you visit Martha?”
    “Not every time,” Don said with a shrug. “In the winter it’s too cold for them to be out there.”
    Inside, the nursing home was bright and cheery, even if it did have something of an antiseptic hospital smell. Don checked with one of the staff at the nursing station who informed them that Martha was playing cards with a group of women in the lounge. She followed as Don led the way.
    In the lounge they found four elderly women seated around a card table. Don immediately went to the oldest and frailest-looking woman. A bright pink shawl was draped over her shoulders, although Bridget estimated that with the sun pouring in through the east-facing windows, the temperature in the room must have been hovering around eighty degrees. Why anyone would need a shawl in this stifling room, she couldn’t fathom.
    But then, she wasn’t a tiny ninety-one-year-old woman who looked as if a slight breeze might do her in.
    Don bent to give the old woman a hug. “How are you today, Martha?”
    “Good as ever,” she said with a smile. The cards trembled in her unsteady fingers. “Alma and I are beating the pants off Elsie and Emma at whist.”
    “Well, you always were a sharp player,” he said. He addressed the other ladies, gesturing to Bridget. “This young lady is Mavis Turner’s daughter. Do you mind if we steal Martha away for a few minutes? We need to have a few words with her.”
    The ladies nodded pleasantly, and gave Bridget speculative looks, clearly curious as to what she wanted with Martha.
    Don pulled Martha’s wheelchair away from the table and pushed her over to a corner of the room next to some upholstered chairs. After positioning Martha’s chair he took a seat and Bridget sat next to him.
    “Martha, like I said, Bridget here is Mavis Turner’s daughter. She’s living in Paradise for a while.”
    She extended her hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Kowalchuk.”
    Martha took her hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Bridget Turner. I remember you. You used to cook with your Uncle Frank at the restaurant.”
    She marveled at the old woman’s memory, considering how long it had been since she’d worked with Uncle Frank in the restaurant.
    “Yes, that’s right,” she said with a smile.
    “That’s why we’re here,” Don said. “Bridget here is trying to bake a decent apple pie. We tasted her first effort yesterday. It could be better. I thought maybe you could give her some pointers.”
    Martha smiled, clearly pleased. “Apple pie. Oh my, that was one of my favorites. Ralph always loved my pie, didn’t he, Don?”
    “That’s what I told the girl here,” he said proudly. “You were the best pie maker around.”
    Bridget pulled a small pad and a pen from her purse. “Do you remember your recipe for piecrust pastry?”
    Martha thought for a moment, then frowned and shook her head. “Not precisely. I