Monkey Wrench

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Authors: Nancy Martin
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friend I’d lend her my coffeepot.”
    â€œHold it!” Susannah cried. “What about going to see Dr. Phelps?”
    Rose waved her hand breezily. “The office won’t open until nine, I’m sure. I have plenty of time to get down to Marge’s and back.”
    â€œSee here, Granny Rose! Give me a minute to dress and I’ll drive you down. After last night, you shouldn’t be wandering around the streets of Tyler—”
    â€œWhy not?” Rose demanded, spinning on Susannah and startling the younger woman with the fire in her gaze. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve never once so much as tripped over a crack in the sidewalk between here and the diner! I can hotfoot my way down there and back in fifteen minutes.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œYou’re not my baby-sitter, you know!”
    â€œIf you’d just slow down a little—”
    â€œThe day I slow down is the day I die!”
    Susannah held her tongue, ashamed that she’d upset her grandmother. She felt her face grow hot.
    Clearly chagrined, Rose leaned forward and gave Susannah a kiss on her cheek. Then she turned and led the way down the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “Help yourself to tea or coffee. I just put some muffins in the oven—banana and pecan, a new recipe. We’ll try them when I get back from the diner. Listen for the timer, please?”
    â€œOf course.” Susannah followed, not bothering to tie the sash on her robe but tiptoeing barefoot down the stairs.
    â€œAfter breakfast, I’ll help you pack for your trip. You are leaving today, aren’t you?”
    â€œNot until I’ve heard what your doctor has to say.”
    â€œOh, I’m fine this morning.” As if sensing Susannah’s disapproval, Rose added hastily, “But if it will make you happy, I’ll call for an appointment as soon as I get back. He keeps Saturday hours and will fit me in, I’m sure. Then you can go off and have a wonderful vacation!”
    Susannah didn’t argue further. She said, “I wish you’d let me go along to the diner.”
    â€œThat’s silly. I’ll be back in two shakes. Why don’t you read the paper while I’m gone? It’s on the porch, I’m sure.” From the enormous walnut armoire in the hallway, Rose removed an ancient duffel coat and pulled it on. “Just save me the front page and the obituaries—the important stuff. I’ll go out the back door.”
    â€œSurely you won’t ride your bike!”
    Rose Atkins had long ago forsaken the automobile as her primary mode of transportation. Instead, she pedaled a three-wheeled, adult-size tricycle all over town—to the grocery, the local diner and her various meetings with friends and clubs. Although Rose claimed she used the bike for ecological concerns, Susannah suspected her failing eyesight was the primary reason she’d decided not to drive her car anymore.
    Rose buttoned her coat and trundled down the hall toward the kitchen. “I ride my bike when the roads are clear, but this morning there’s a little too much wet snow. I’ll walk through Donohoe’s backyard instead—that should make you happy. It’s only two blocks to Marge’s from there.”
    â€œGranny Rose...”
    â€œDon’t fuss, dear. I’ll be back in no time.”
    What’s the sense of arguing? Susannah asked herself bitterly when Rose grabbed her large coffeepot box, called goodbye and slammed out the back door. No matter what she said to her grandmother, she was going to anger Rose and perhaps make her even sicker than she was.
    Fuming, Susannah hurried for the stairs, hoping she could jump into her clothes and catch Rose before she got too far from home. But in passing the front door, she heard another noise outside and wondered if the paperboy was having some kind of trouble. It would only take thirty seconds to grab

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