I grinned at Payton as Gram sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. Payton giggled as she watched the two of us.
“He’s always been such a dramatic one,” Gram said as she lifted a lid on one of the pots and stuck a long, wooden spoon into it so she could stir the contents. “God bless him, don’t get me wrong. I don’t know what we would have done without him, but Lord, he’s always been a handful.”
“Has he really?” Payton asked as she perched on the edge of her chair and waited for Gram to continue. She’d taken a great deal of care in dressing to come visit, though by all accounts she didn’t look much different than she normally did. Her long, blonde hair had been carefully gathered into a low ponytail as the nape of her neck and she’d used a minimal amount of makeup on her pretty face. Her cornflower-blue dress had a modest scoop neck and flared out from her hips, giving her a retro look that I hadn’t seen any woman pull off quite as well as she did.
“Oh Lord, yes!” Gram said as she spooned up a bit of the sauce in the pot and tasted it before adding a pinch of salt and a dash of something that looked like hot sauce. My mouth watered knowing that she was making cabbage rolls, one of my favorites. “He was a handful from the time he could walk! And before that, if my memory serves me right. He was scooting around on his bottom looking for trouble, and then one day he discovered that he could pull himself up with help from our dog, George. From then on, it was the two of them off and running together.”
“You had a dog named George?” Payton asked excitedly.
“Yep, he had big floppy ears and a tongue that never stopped coating me in spit,” I grumbled.
“Oh, stop it,” Gram laughed as she aimed another potholder at my head. “That dog was your best friend for the first eight years of your life. I knew that if I couldn’t find you, all I had to do was call George’s name and I’d have your whereabouts in a jiffy.”
“What happened to George?” Payton asked. The mood turned dark as Gram and I exchanged a look.
“Oh, you know, dog stuff,” I said, waving a hand as if to erase the memory of George’s demise and hoping that Payton would accept the answer without probing further.
“Dog stuff?” she asked looking back and forth between Gram and I.
“He escaped from the fence one morning and met a sad end,” Gram said, neatly wrapping up the narrative so that no more questions would be asked.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Payton said covering her mouth with her hand. “That must have been awful for you.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admitted, shooting Gram and grateful look. “But we survived.”
“Let’s talk about something happier,” Gram interjected. “Tell me about your family, Payton.”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s much happier than losing your dog,” Payton said as she cast me a look asking for help in steering the conversation to lighter topics.
“Gram, Payton’s mother is Joanna Lasky,” I said knowing that Gram would get the message.
“I see,” Gram nodded before turning and looking right at Payton as she added, “She’s quite a bitch, isn’t she?”
I froze. Afraid to look over at Payton, I swung around ready to scold Gram when I heard laughter coming from the other side of the table. I turned and found Payton with her head tilted back laughing open mouthed with her arms wrapped around her stomach.
“Oh my God,” she laughed. “You know my mother!”
“I met her at the franchise ceremony,” Gram chuckled. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me to say. Your mother is a beautiful woman, but she’s not entirely pleasant.”
“No, you were right the first time,” Payton laughed and then quietly said, “She’s pretty awful.”
“Well, sweetheart, don’t despair,” Gram said as she moved around the table and patted Payton’s shoulder. “Everyone’s got a cross to bear, and yours just happens to be your mother. At least you know what you’re up against!”
Payton nodded, but said nothing. I shot Gram a look that tried to convey just how much I wanted her to steer the conversation to any other topic, but she just shook her head and said, “David, could you go out to the garage and get me the big boiling pot, please? It’s on the top shelf over your Pop’s tool wall.”
“What do you—” I began.
“Just go get it,” Gram said sternly. I pushed my chair back and reluctantly stood up. Gram repeated, “Go get it.”
It took me 10 minutes to haul out the ladder and locate the exact place where Gram had had Pop store her boiling pot. I pulled it down and blew off the dust, wondering why she suddenly needed this now and not before when she’d been cooking for all the neighborhood kids. I put the ladder away and carried the pot into the kitchen where I found Payton helping Gram set the table and put out all of the food.
“Go wash up, David,” Gram said cheerfully. “We’re almost ready to eat.”
“I thought you needed this. Why did you have me get it down?” I asked, feeling confused about what was happening and pissed that I’d gotten myself covered in dust and dirt for no good reason.
“Oh, that old thing?” Gram said. “I need to lend it to Mrs. Polaski for the church supper. Thank you for getting it down for me, David. Now go wash up!”
I set the pot down and headed toward the back bathroom where I washed up and did my best to get the dirt off of my shirt. As I scrubbed my hands, I wondered what Gram had said to Payton in my absence, but as I dried them, I decided that it was probably better that I didn’t know.