Free Pearl of Great Price by Myra Johnson

dust bunnies.
    He made a clucking noise with his tongue. “If old LeRoy doesn’t get his trifocals adjusted soon, I may have to up our commission on his sales. I swear, the man is as blind as a cave-dwelling salamander.”
    “Now, Grandpa, why are you picking on LeRoy? That’s not like you at all.” More proof he was bothered about something he didn’t want to talk about.
    He finished his attack on a smudge and stood erect with a groan. “Just getting old, I suppose. Old and crotchety.” He rubbed his back and stretched.
    He wasn’t fooling me for an instant with his “old and crotchety” excuse. I made a few more strokes with the broom and pushed a pile of litter into the dustpan. Maybe a slightly more direct approach would get him talking. “That Renata Pearl Channing—she sure is a puzzle.”
    He moved to the next cabinet and spritzed it with Windex. “You sure we have enough dog food for the week? Might want to run over to Friendly’s later.”
    “We’re good for another day or two.” If Grandpa thought changing the subject would get me off his case, he had another think coming. “Sure would like to know her story.”
    “Brynna’s? Guess we’ll never know.” Grandpa tore off a fresh paper towel.
    He knew perfectly well I didn’t mean Brynna, and his avoidance tactics were starting to rile me. “I’m talking about Mrs. Channing. Do you know what happened at the resort all those years ago? Is that where the little girl dr—”
    “Julie Pearl.” Grandpa stopped his work and fixed me with a desperate glare. “It’s not our business, all right? Leave it be.”
    Obviously, my tightlipped grandpa had no intention of telling me a thing. But the harder he worked to avoid my questions, the more certain I became that he was hiding something important, something that mattered to him a lot.
    And if it mattered so much to Grandpa, it mattered even more to me.
    ~~~
    Later that evening, as I dried the last supper dish and set it in the cupboard, the phone rang. Grandpa answered it. “How ya doin’, Sandy? Yep, she’s right here.”
    I draped the dishtowel over the oven door handle and reached for the receiver. “What’s up, girlfriend?”
    “How’s your new dog? Get rid of all those revolting ticks?”
    Brynna came over and nuzzled my hand as I sat down at the kitchen table. “She’s great. Sweetest dog I ever met. A real keeper.”
    “You missed a great discussion last night. I took lots of notes. Can I bring ’em by?”
    “I thought you had to work at the DQ on Wednesday nights.”
    Sandy let out a jubilant laugh. “Not anymore! There was a message from Mr. Hobart when I got home last night. He decided he needed me to start right away. Today was my first day!”
    “Wow, Sandy, that’s super.” I only wished I sounded happier for her, but her news reminded me of the old resort and all my questions about Renata Pearl Channing. The mounting frustration slammed me in the chest like a bucket of Tom’s rusty old tools.
    “Jules? Something’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice.”
    I chewed on a hangnail. Maybe by now Sandy would know more about the history of the Pearls’ place. “You want to meet me at the DQ for sundaes? My treat.”
    “Great! I’m ready to celebrate!”
    Twenty minutes later, Sandy and I picked up our deluxe brownie-and-hot-fudge sundaes at the DQ counter and settled across from each other in the front corner booth. I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for red-faced George Bradley, scurrying behind the counter trying to cover the management duties Sandy had handled so capably.
    I licked a swirl of caramel and hot fudge off my plastic spoon. “Well? Tell me all about it. How was your first day on the new job?”
    “Terrific. There’s so much to learn, but I can already tell Micah Hobart is going to be a dream to work for.”
    My hand paused halfway between the bowl and my mouth. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, but Clifton and I met your boss