Summer At Mustang Ridge
“Like underneath it. Her eyes were scratchy, her head hurt, and her throat was sore, and if she’d been at home, she totally would’ve called in dead to work. She couldn’t leave Gran in the lurch, though, especially not with Rose in the picture.
Needing the comfort, she pulled on black pants and her old chunky boots and headed for the kitchen. She went in through the front door, then paused, sniffing, as a cold weight settled in her stomach, an unease separate from heartache.
There was nothing war...m and yummy in the air. No yeast, no sugar, no cinnamon . . . no nothing.
Her pulse kicked as she headed down the hall, calling, “Gran?”
“I’m . . . I’m in here,” came the wobbly answer from the kitchen, almost inaudible.
Had she fallen? Had a heart attack? The scenarios whipped through Shelby as she hurried into the kitchen. “What’s wrong? What—” She broke off at the sight of the older woman standing at the main counter, hunched over Herman’s bowl. His towel was off and the room smelled stale.MoreLess
Needing the comfort, she pulled on black pants and her old chunky boots and headed for the kitchen. She went in through the front door, then paused, sniffing, as a cold weight settled in her stomach, an unease separate from heartache.
There was nothing war...m and yummy in the air. No yeast, no sugar, no cinnamon . . . no nothing.
Her pulse kicked as she headed down the hall, calling, “Gran?”
“I’m . . . I’m in here,” came the wobbly answer from the kitchen, almost inaudible.
Had she fallen? Had a heart attack? The scenarios whipped through Shelby as she hurried into the kitchen. “What’s wrong? What—” She broke off at the sight of the older woman standing at the main counter, hunched over Herman’s bowl. His towel was off and the room smelled stale.MoreLess
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