As Judith prepared Gertrude’s meal and set it on a
tray, the house seemed very quiet. Typical for early
November, she thought, with the fog not only isolating
but insulating Hillside Manor from the rest of the
world. The calm, however, was not reassuring.
As usual Gertrude was up and dressed before eight
o’clock, She sat behind the card table, not bothering to
look up when her daughter arrived with breakfast.
More surprisingly, the old lady was humming in an
off-key manner.
“Hmm-dee-dee-hmm.”
“Good morning,” Judith said, forcing a bright smile.
“You seem cheerful this morning.”
“Hmm-mm-hmm-mm.” Gertrude picked up her
Judith wasn’t in the mood to play games with her
mother. She placed the tray on the card table. Gertrude
ignored it. “What is it?” Judith asked. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Dee-dee-mm-hmm.”
“Mother!” Judith’s patience fled. “Stop that humming! What’s going on?”
Slyly, Gertrude looked up from the
it’s you. I suppose you expect a tip now that I’m going
to be rich. Forget it, I’m spending every dime on satin
bloomers, lace hankies, and a walker with a motor on
it.”
Puzzled, Judith sat down on the arm of Gertrude’s
Davano. “What’s going on? Did you win the lottery?”
“That’s for suckers,” Gertrude declared, even
though she frequently conned Judith into buying lottery and scratch-card tickets for her. “You’ll find out
when the armored car pulls up with my loot.”
Judith fought an urge to shake her mother until the
old girl’s dentures rattled. “What then?”
Gertrude shot her a contemptuous look. “How do
you think, dummy? By selling my life story to the
movies. That nice young Southun gentleman is writin’
the script,” she went on, her speech suddenly tinged
with a drawl straight out of the cotton fields. “He’s
promised me a piece. Up front, too, but no points. Ah
couldn’t expect that for my first story, could Ah?”
Judith didn’t know whether she was more amazed
by Dade’s offer or her mother’s use of movie jargon,
which, judging from the drawl, was straight from the
writer’s mouth. “Are you sure he’s not kidding you?”
“He’s not the kind to spoof,” Gertrude replied
smugly, the drawl gone. “He’s on the up-and-up. He
says I’m great. In fact, I’m part of the Greatest Generation. I’ve lived through a bunch of wars, a big
