Page 89 of American Hellhound
“Mama, somebody’s here,” Cal announced gravely.
“I heard that, baby, thank you.” She scanned the living room as she walked through to the door. The high place on the shelf where Mercy had hidden a gun in a decorative box. The secret safe in the end table where Mercy had hidden a gun. Her man had hidden a lot of guns in this house.
Then whoever was at the door peeked through the window and Ava’s apprehension turned sour. It was her grandmother.
She forced a note of brightness into her voice when she opened the door. “Hi, Grammie.”
Denise seemed, almost defiantly, like she was trying to stand on as little of Ava’s front porch as possible. Feet tucked together, purse clutched tight in her arms, shoulders back and head lifted. In her sharply-cut slacks and blouse, she looked washed-out and too-straight. Like a lamppost, Ava thought, but half as cheerful.
“Hello,” she said. Her eyes shifted to a point above Ava’s shoulder, searching deeper into the house. “Is your husband at home?” She hated all of the Dogs, but she was petrified of Mercy.
“No, he’s at work.”
Her shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Would you like to come in? I have a little time before I have to go pick up Remy at school.”
Denise seemed to consider it a moment, gaze tracking across Ava’s face. What a terribly unhappy person she was. Finally, she nodded. “I guess for a moment, yes.” She wiped her feet on the mat before she entered, though Ava knew the soles of her shoes were spotless. “I had to get out of the house. Your grandfather is driving me crazy.”
Ava doubted that. The man didn’t so much as breathe out of turn. “How’s he feeling?” she asked, shutting and locking the door.
“Tired. But fine. Cranky. Wanting to do more than the doctors will allow.”
“Will he be okay while you’re gone?”
“Of course, dear. He isn’tstupid.” Denise reached the center of the room and stopped, staring down at Cal like he was an alien lifeform she hadn’t expected to encounter. To his credit, Cal blinked up at her in the same way. “This is the middle one?”
Ava swallowed what she wanted to say. “Yes, Grammie, this is Cal.” She didn’t tell Cal to greet his great-grandmother; she’d long ago decided she wouldn’t ever force her children to speak to the woman.
She cleared her throat. “I have coffee if you’d like some.”
Denise jerked out of her stare and proceeded toward the kitchen. It was going to be a kitchen conversation, then. “No, thank you. This won’t take long.”
Ava followed. “What won’t?”
Denise pulled out a chair and sat.
Ava moved around the table so she stood opposite her, hands braced on the back of chair. She wasn’t going to sit.
“I saw your mother at the hospital a few days ago,” Denise said, folding her hands on the table and pinning Ava with a look. “She didn’t look well.”
In moments like these, Ava thanked God she was born to Maggie. She’d take her outlaw parents over a mother likethisany day.
She met her grandmother’slookwith one of her own. “Probably because she didn’t feel well. That’s generally the reason people go to the hospital.”
“Yes…well.” She hadn’t expected to be met with firmness. “I wanted to check on her.”
“You could have called her.”
Denise sighed and her gaze dropped to her hands. “She wouldn’t have given me a straight answer. She thinks I hate her.”
“Don’t you?” Ava asked, more harshly than she’d intended.
“Of course not!” The words came out angry, offended. Her eyes flashed halfway to furious.
“Really? Most of the time it seems like you hate all of us.”
Denise’s mouth tightened. It was an expression that had no bearing on Ava’s life, but had once ruled Maggie’s. “How could you say such a thing?”
