Free At the Corner of King Street by Mary Ellen Taylor Page A

little. One thing to have a troubled family, but another to have people know it. “I suppose it’s not a secret.”
    â€œNo hiding a baby.”
    I pressed my thumb against the crumbles of crust on my plate and savored the last bit of sweetness. “Grace, we’ve got to figure out what we’re going to do.”
    The lines in her face deepened with her frown. “I’m out of steam, Addie. I don’t know what to do, and there’s no one in the family other than you that I could ask for help.”
    I pushed the plate away. “You called Zeb.”
    Dark eyes flashed and narrowed. “I called him after I saw you.”
    â€œWhen you came bearing threats.”
    â€œNot threats. Just a reminder that you have family who know you better than most.”
    â€œWhy call him?”
    â€œHe’s got a right to know what’s happening.”
    The sweetness of the cherry pie melted and a bitter taste settled in my mouth. “We all know where each other’s skeletons are buried.”
    â€œYou’ve always carried with you a strong sense of family,” she said, ignoring me. “You kept your family together when your mother couldn’t. You know how to handle this kind of burden.”
    â€œYou must have lived through this before with Mom when you were younger.”
    â€œMaybe I did. But that was a long time ago. Like I said, I’m old.”
    As easy as it was to remind Grace that she backed away from my mother when she was a much younger woman, who the hell was I to judge? Being AWOL for seven years undercut any claims to self-righteousness. “Mom used to call Janet her superstar and me her glue. Janet shined and I was invisible.”
    Grace dug her fork into a plump cherry, but she didn’t raise it to her lips. “She was giving you a compliment and didn’t even realize it.”
    â€œHow’s that?”
    Grace inspected the cherry and then lowered her fork. “Without a superstar, life is quieter. Without glue, it all falls apart.”
    â€œShe always smiled when Janet walked into a room. Hell, everyone did. And I bet they still do. I bet Janet can still turn any dull day into a tremendous adventure.”
    Grace swirled the cherry on the plate. “She’s sick, like your mother. Maybe worse.”
    I wanted to disagree, but couldn’t. “She was sleeping when I saw her today. She looked peaceful, and even after what she’s been through, beautiful.”
    â€œShe was raving mad when they brought her into the delivery room. Screaming that a witch cursed her and that she needed to get away before it stole her soul. It took a couple of men to restrain her so that the doctor could sedate her.”
    The scene played in my mind: Janet’s arms flailing, and yelling doctors scrambling to restrain her and deliver the baby.
    â€œThe baby was born by C-section,” Grace said. “She was breech.”
    â€œDidn’t want to come into the world? I can’t blame the kid.”
    â€œAddie,” Grace warned.
    I shrugged, the bitterness tightening around my heart like a vise. “I lived with a crazy mother. It’s horrible.”
    â€œSo did I, Addie.”
    â€œShe wasn’t a Shire by birth,” I said.
    Grace tapped her finger on the edge of the plate. “She and my father were third cousins. Go back far enough in her tree and you find a Shire.”
    â€œYours wasn’t crazy. She collected things.”
    â€œShe packed every square inch of this warehouse, including this floor. She did the same to our home. And I can promise you that notall of it was lovely, salvaged goods. In the last years, she took to stowing her garbage.”
    The vignette irritated rather than mollified me. My skin prickling with frustration, I rose and moved to the counter and the cherry pie plate. I sliced another piece of pie and stood at the counter, eating not for taste but because eating was better