“Of course I’m sure. You’re my daughter, honey. You can always come home whenever you need to.” She paused, then added. “Your room is just like you left it.”
Annie felt tears coming. “Thanks, Momma.”
“Do you still have your key?”
Annie wiped her eyes, composing herself. “Yeah, I still have it. When will you and Doug be back?”
“Sunday night, or Monday. When are you coming?”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking about coming tonight.”
“I’ll call you and check on you, then.”
“You don’t have to do that, Momma. I’ll be fine.”
After they hung up, Annie wasted no time in preparing to leave. Telling her mother she was “thinking” of going to Chattanooga tonight was just to save herself some face—she had no intention of being within a 100 mile radius of Atlanta when Neal got home.
CHAPTER 6
After Neal made his last afternoon delivery, he drove the empty van back to the flower shop, as he always did. He wished he could have taken the van home and driven it back to the shop the next morning, but of course that was out of the question. There was absolutely no way he would be able to hide his condition from the Snell’s now. His was no longer able to walk without an obvious limp, and every now and then he had severe bouts of chills and shook from head to toe. At the very least, he would have to go inside the shop and give Grammy the delivery receipts and the keys to the van. And sometimes they made him make another last-minute delivery or two, if the runs weren’t too far away.
Neal agonized over all this as he drove towards the shop, trying to think of some solution. But of course, there was none.
However, it turned out that all his worrying was for naught.
When he limped back into the flower shop, the look on both Grammy’s and Mildred’s faces told him that the jig was up.
“Daddy!” Grammy squealed over her shoulder. “Neal’s back!”
Neal’s heart sank. “Daddy” was what all the Snells called the old man, even Grammy, his mother. The two old women looked back down at their work, pretending to be absorbed in it, the way people do when they’re about to witness something deliciously unpleasant.
Neal heard old man Snell’s heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, from the main office. He sauntered into the open area where Grammy and Mildred worked. His pale blue eyes looked Neal up and down. Then, he simply cocked his head towards his office.
“Uh-oh,” Neal muttered under his breath. He followed the old man down the hallway, no longer bothering to try and hide his limp. When they entered the office, Snell motioned to a decrepit black Naugahide chair opposite his desk, the same chair where Neal had sat when Snell had interviewed him for the job a little less than two weeks ago. Neal carefully lowered himself into it.
Snell sat there a moment, eyeing Neal suspiciously. Neal glanced away, at the rows and rows of ancient-looking football trophies that lined the bookshelves.
Snell finally leaned forward and inspected Neal’s foot. Even through the sneaker, it looked enormous.
“Why didn’t you tell us you hurt yourself, son? You could have just taken the day off.”
“I...well, it wasn’t really too bad this morning.”
“Looks pretty bad now, though.”
Neal sat up a little more in the chair and tried to appear confident—he didn’t want to lose the job, no matter how bad it was. “I need the money. I was afraid if I tried to take time off so soon, you might fire me.”
“I can understand that,” Snell said, slowly nodding his beefy head. “But what I can’t understand it your
