Page 55 of All Yours

“No, I like mystery. Lately, I’ve gotten into these true crime podcasts.”

Jonah’s mom groaned. “You with those podcasts. Always listening to stories about murder. How do you listen to such awful things while you go to sleep?”

“The narrator’s voice is soothing,” Franny insisted, dumping two handfuls of silverware in the sink, and pulling open the dishwasher. “It relaxes me.”

I deposited the plates in the sink and picked up the top plate to scrape the bits into the trash.

“But you go to sleep with all that nastiness in your subconscious.” Jonah’s mom retrieved a bag of coffee from the cabinet. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?” she asked, patting me on the shoulder.

“I think it’s fairly common,” I said, moving to load the plates into the dishwasher.

“Do you listen to true crime podcasts?” Franny asked.

“I haven’t,” I said, rinsing off a plate.

“Oh. Well, one can learn all kinds of things from podcasts,” Franny said, staring right at me from the other side of the dishwasher. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Okay. That was weird. Was she threatening me?

“If you listen to enough of them,” Franny continued. “One could construct a convincing mystery out of the information. If ya wanted to write a mystery.”

“I suppose so,” Jonah’s mom said. The aroma of coffee wafted through the air.

“Do you know how many people in this day and age disappear without a trace?” Franny asked.

“Can’t say that I do,” I said, trying to concentrate on rinsing and loading the plates.

“A lot,” Franny answered, inspecting her fingernails. “It’s crazy how many. And I can name at least a dozen ways to make someone disappear.” She stared at me for a moment, then left the room.

“Did you want some coffee, dear?” Jonah’s mom asked, as if the conversation didn’t seem like a veiled threat to make me disappear off the planet.

“Sounds good,” I said, trying to pretend I wasn’t terrified to my core. Note to self: do not find yourself alone with Franny. “Can I ask you…”

“Why Franny’s a little weird?” She replied, retrieving coffee mugs from the cabinet.

“No,” I snorted out a laugh.

“Sorry, I ask that all the time.” She lined the mugs up on the granite counter.

“No. I was just curious why you kept the Greenburg last name. It wasn’t as common at the time to keep your name.”

“Ah,” she said, pulling creamer out of the fridge. “Yes. It wasn’t any form of feminist statement on my part. My dad didn’t want me and Scott together, and what he said was that he’d disown me if I changed my last name to Barnes. So, I married Scott anyway, but never changed my name.”

I laughed. “Oh my… Was he angry?”

“Initially.” She laughed with a reminiscent glimmer in her eyes. “But Scott was the only man for me, and I wasn’t about to take no for an answer.” She poured a mug of coffee and handed it to me. “When someone is your person, there’s nothing else like it.”

I smiled and took the mug. “Thanks.” I blew the steam. Was Jonah my person? I depended on him a lot. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. But did it mean he was the one for me? We certainly didn’t start out in the conventional way.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other,” she said, pouring another mug of coffee.

“Rumor has it, you have pie in here,” Scott said, coming through the door and pulling open the fridge.

“How could you still be hungry?” he asked.

“I just need a little something sweet,” he said, closing the door and turning to his wife. “Oh, look, there it is.” He grabbed her and pulled her toward him. Jonah’s mom squealed as he pulled her in, kissing her cheek, then her lips.

I turned my attention back to the dishes, as I didn’t want to stare at their display of affection. It was sweet that after this many years of marriage, they were still so affectionate with each other. I returned to the dining room to check if we’d removed all the dishes from the table. Creepy Franny had moved on to something else. I entered the room in time to find Jonah coming in from the other direction.

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