ask—”
But the handyman made a sharp dismissive gesture.
“Never you mind. I don’t vant to see that old bat no
more. She give me a bad time all veek. Let her sit on
the damned toilet until her backside falls off.” Skjoval
yanked the painter’s cap from his head and waved it in
a threatening manner. “I go now, you call me if she
ever acts like a human being and not a vitch.” He
stomped off down the drive to his pickup truck, which
was piled with ladders, scaffolding, and all manner of
tools.
Judith gritted her teeth and headed out under the
golden September sun. Surely her mother would coop-
erate. The toilet needed plunging; Gertrude threw all
sorts of things into it, including Sweetums. It was either Skjoval Tolvang for the job or a hundred bucks to
Roto-Rooter.
Gertrude wasn’t on the toilet when Judith reached
the toolshed. Instead, she was sitting in her old mohair
armchair, playing solitaire on the cluttered card table.
“Hi, Toots,” Gertrude said in a cheerful voice.
“What’s up, besides that old fart’s dander?”
“Why wouldn’t you let Mr. Tolvang plunge the toilet?” Judith demanded.
“Because I was using it, that’s why.” Gertrude
scooped up the cards and put them in her automatic
shuffler. “When’s lunch?”
“You ate lunch two hours ago,” Judith responded,
then had an inspiration. “Why don’t you come inside
with me? I’m going to make chocolate-chip cookies.”
Gertrude brightened. “You are?”
“Yes. Let me give you a hand.”
Judith was helping her mother to the door when
Skjoval Tolvang burst into the toolshed.
“You got spies,” he declared, banging the door behind him. “Building inspectors, ya sure, you betcha.”
Judith’s dark eyes widened. “Really? Where?”
“In the bushes,” Skjoval replied. “Spying.”
“Here,” Judith said, gesturing at Gertrude, “help my
mother into the house. I’ll go check on whoever’s out
there.”
But Gertrude balked. “I’m not letting this crazy old
coot touch me! He’ll shove me facedown into the barbecue and light it off.”
“Then stay here,” Judith said crossly, and guided her
mother back to the armchair.
“Hey!” Gertrude shouted. “What about those
cookies?”
But Judith was already out the door. “Where is this
inspector or whoever?” she asked of Mr. Tolvang.
