“You got a stove. Why don’t you turn that on?”
“Bernie,” Verna said. “Don’t you go asking your great-grandma a lot of questions.”
He ignored her. “I’m hungry,” he said to the old woman.
“Bernie!” Angel said.
“That’s enough, Bernie.” Any fake cheer had left Verna’s voice. “I’m warning you.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” the old woman said, sliding her eyes toward Verna. “I don’t know what there is to eat around here.”
Bernie glanced back at Verna to see how close she was to him before he leaned over and said something into the old woman’s ear.
She began to laugh, a funny laugh, like her laugh box had rusted and she couldn’t make it work smoothly. “Pizza!” she said, almost choking on the words. “Now, where in the blazes am I going to find a pizza around here?”
“Angel. Take your brother upstairs this minute.” Then, as if realizing that she hadn’t, really cleared anything with the old woman, she changed to her sweet tone of voice, “Which room do you want the kids in, Grandma?”
“I don’t guess it matters none. Either room. They ain’t neither of them clean. I wasn’t exactly expecting—”
“Take your brother up,” Verna ordered. “I’ll be right there.”
Bernie still hung around the old woman’s chair, so there was nothing for Angel to do but go around the table and grab his hand. “C’mon, Bernie.”
“So this is Angel.” The old woman stretched out a bony finger as though to touch her.
Angel shrank back a little. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help it. There was a funny stale smell coming from the bundle of blankets in the rocker.
“I won’t bite you, girl.” Angel turned to look straight in the woman’s face. Was that what the witch had said to Hansel and Gretel? A black mole with a stiff wire of white hair coming out of it grew almost on the tip of the old woman’s nose. Just like a witch, except...
“You remember me?” She peered up into Angel’s face. There was a little spit in the corner of her mouth.
Angel started to shake her head, but something stopped her. “I used to—to play with your nose,” she said.
The woman cackled her rusty laugh. “That’s right, you did. I forgot that.”
“It’s funny looking,” Bernie said. He reached out to finger it. Angel grabbed his hand.
“Don’t, Bernie. That’s not polite.”
The strange laugh again. “You got mighty polite in your old age, Miss Angel.”
“I said, Take your brother upstairs,” Verna said. “Grandma and I got stuff to talk about.”
“There ain’t any sheets on the beds. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Git!”
This time Verna meant business. Both children headed for the door. Angel grabbed up Grizzle and pushed Bernie ahead of her out into the hall and up the dark, narrow wooden stairs. Partway up he stumbled, but she caught him before they both fell backward.
“Stop pushing, Angel.”
“I’m not pushing. Just get going before Mama yells again, okay?”
“I’m going as fast as I can. If I fall down and break my head, it will be all your fault—”
“I said hurry.”
“—and you’ll be sorry sorry sorry.” They were at the top by the time he finished his string of sorrys.