"Yes, ma'am," Crystal said. She looked cautiously at me and I started for the car door.
"I missed my ride," she said. "I got here too late and they left me behind."
I paused and raised my eyebrows. Crystal did the same.
"Who left you behind?" Raven asked.
"Friends of my dead husband," she said. "Once your husband dies, all his friends avoid you like the plague. Believe me," she said, "when he was alive, they were always around. Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?"
"You were supposed to meet them in this parking lot and they left without you?" Crystal pursued like some lawyer cross-examining a witness.
"It's not the first time I've been left behind. When you're a widow, you have to fend for yourself more than you can imagine, girls. But you're all too young to worry about being widows. Old age isn't pleasant. Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?"
Raven looked at me and then back at her. "Where are you going?"
"Oh just down to Morrisville. Forty miles or so. I'll have to walk to the bus station, I suppose," she said.
"Where's that?" Crystal asked.
"I'm not sure. I think it's . . ." She turned and then turned back. "I'll have to ask inside."
"Just a minute," Crystal said. She pulled her map out and spread it on the hood of the wagon. "Morrisville. That's not out of our way, Brooke. We'll drop you off, ma'am," she said.
"Would you? Isn't that nice of you? That's so sweet. Most people are not so sweet to strangers anymore. Thank you, darling Thank you."
"You can sit in the back with us," Butterfly told her and opened the door.
"Why thank you, Janet. See? I remembered your name. Janet. You remind me of my Donna. Did I tell you that?"
"Yes," Butterfly said, smiling at her sweetly. The elderly lady got in and Butterfly followed. Raven seized Crystal at the elbow and pulled her back.
"She better not rob us," she said sharply. Crystal smirked.
"I hardly think there's an analogy here, Raven."
"A what? Why don't you speak English?" Raven complained.
Crystal laughed.
"That is English." Crystal got in and Raven turned to me with a look of desperation.
"You have to carry a dictionary on you when you're with Crystal. I don't care what she says. It's like learning a new language."
I laughed too, and we got into the wagon. We started out of the parking lot.
"My name is Theresa James," the elderly lady said. "I've lived in Morrisville for nearly forty-one years. My husband Eugene was a shoe salesman. He used to say he peddled good soles and saved more than a minister." She laughed. "Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?"
"How many children and grandchildren do you have?" Butterfly asked her.
"I have three children, a son Thomas Kincaid James, and two daughters, Marion and Jennie. Jennie's the most like me. She's a good cook. Marion doesn't cook. She has servants who do everything. She married well. Her husband builds boats, pleasure boats, and they live in a house that looks like a castle. It's near a lake, too. I spend a part of my summer there and I see my grandchildren. Oh, I have five
grandchildren, three boys and two girls. Two boys are Thomas's He has a daughter who just turned seven. Her name's Connie, but she has long dark hair, not curly gold hair like you, dear. She's a good speller. They're always sending me her spelling tests with A's on them and I put them all over the refrigerator. I have so many. I can hardly find the handle." She laughed. "Ain't that the truth? Ain't it though?"
I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Crystal grimacing. I raised my eyebrows and she indicated there was a strange odor. After a moment I smelled it too. It smelled like charred wood and it was coming from Theresa James.
"My husband was a very good salesman. He never lost a sale. He could talk the last dime out of Rockefeller. They wanted to make him a vice president and give him an office, but he said, no sir, no thank you, I would rather be on the road, out there with the people. He loved being with people, talking, pressing flesh as he called it."
"When did he die?" Butterfly asked.