Free Nice Girls Don't Bite Their Neighbors by Molly Harper

OK? What happened?”
    My mind immediately went to Grandma’s boyfriend, Wilbur, whom I’d never trusted. Grandma Ruthie’s fourhusbands and her previous fiancé had all died under suspicious circumstances, involving a speeding delivery truck, a brown recluse bite on the inside of the throat, a previously unknown allergy to Grandma Ruthie’s famous strawberry-rhubarb pie, a golf-related lightning strike, and a miscalculation of a Viagra dosage. So, when she paired up with a ghoul—a sad version of vampirism so weak that they barely qualified as immortal—with a similar marital history, I’d stated (loudly enough for the entire family to hear me) that it was only matter of time before one of them ended up dead. Although Wilbur was basically the Splenda of vampires—a weak, ineffectual imitation of the real thing—my money was on Grandma Ruthie. I’d placed a small wager with Dick relating to the possibility of her being dosed with botulism.
    Wilbur and Grandma Ruthie seemed very happy together, although I guess that when you never know when your lover might facilitate your release from your mortal coil, it adds a certain amount of adrenalinated spice to the mix.
    Shudder.
    “Your grandmother had a stroke at the Garden Club meeting. She was screaming at Bitty Tate about having the gall to put marigolds in the sponsored planters in front of City Hall without permission. And she just keeled over.”
    That didn’t sound “natural” to me, but I didn’t think it would help to point that out. It struck me that for once, my mother had a legitimate reason to be overwrought, to make demands and have hysterical hissy fits. But sheseemed so calm. Her voice hadn’t cracked once in our conversation. She hadn’t commanded me to construct a salad from bacon, cream cheese, and gelatin and get myself to her house to receive well-wishers. She wasn’t even asking what I planned to wear to the visitation. I was more than a little worried.
    “How are you doing?” I asked.
    “I’m fine, honey. I’ve been preparing for this for a while.”
    “That’s weird.”
    “You know me, Jane. I’ve got to handle all the details now, focus on that. I’ll fall apart later. Don’t you worry.”
    I nodded. When Mama finally wound down, Daddy would be there for her, to pick up the pieces. He was better at that than people gave him credit for. But I would be standing by with industrial-grade sedatives, just in case.
    “Now, your grandma had her service preplanned—”
    “Of course she did,” I said, rolling my eyes and imagining the eulogy Grandma had most likely typed, highlighted, and delivered to Reverend Neel.
    “But there’s no rule that says we have to have the funeral services during the day. We could push it back until after sunset,” Mama offered.
    I smiled. “Ruthie would roll over in her casket if she knew you were doing that.”
    “Jane!”
    “Right, sorry. Too soon. I’ll be fine, Mama, honestly. I sort of said my good-byes when she, you know, declared that I was a soulless monster and no longer hergrandchild. And really, most of the town knows about my condition now; they won’t question why I’m not there. And really, I don’t think Grandma Ruthie would want me there with her friends, anyway.”
    “Well, at least come to the visitation.”
    I was ashamed at the sheer length of the pause.
    “Janie, I need you there, please.” Her voice rose a couple of octaves, and my resolve crumbled.
    “All right, Mama, for you, I’ll be there.”
    We discussed logistics and food. Turns out I was expected to prepare a macaroni salad, a cheese platter, and corn relish, despite the fact that I couldn’t eat any of it, and we both knew that Grandma Ruthie’s church-lady friends were going to bombard Mama with enough casseroles to sink an armada. But it was the gesture that counted. If I showed up to the service empty-handed, it would be seen as thumbing my nose at Grandma one last time. And even if I was inclined to use