Free Getting Sassy by D C Brod Page A

God knows, Lizzie’s not the first here to try it.” She paused and took a breath.
    “This morning when I stopped in on Lizzie, I know I smelled cigarette smoke.”
    “No,” was all I could manage.
    She nodded. “Afraid so. She used to be a smoker, didn’t she?”
    “Before I moved her in here. But that’s been more than two years.” Of all the things to worry about, the one that had not occurred to me was my mother sneaking smokes in her room.
    Sighing, she twisted her mouth as she shook her head. “It happens sometimes. Maybe she bummed one off a resident.”
    “How many residents smoke?”
    “Not many. But there’s a hard-core group and, believe me, they know who’s carrying.”
    I couldn’t imagine anyone would give my mother the time of day, let alone a cigarette. She wasn’t exactly in the running for Miss Congeniality.
    “Did you say anything to her?” I asked Lorena.
    “‘Course I did. And she acted like I’d accused her of boiling babies. Got all indignant.” She gave me one of her rare smiles. “You know how she can be.”
    I assured her that I did and said I’d talk to her.
    “You understand,” Lorena continued, “this rule was in place long before the state made it illegal.”
    “I know.”
    “And the fine has to be high to make the point.”
    “I completely understand,” I assured her. And I did. “Thank you so much for telling me. And not April.” Who, at this point, might not fine us, but would have one more reason to see my mother leave. “I’m taking her out to breakfast, and I’ll talk to her.”
    Just then I noticed that my mother had gotten off the elevator and was watching Lorena and me have our little chat. Her sparse brows were pulled together as though trying to recall an errant thought.
    I gave her a little wave, thanked Lorena again and walked over to collect my mother.
    “Blueberry pancakes?” I straightened the collar of her blue sweater.
    She watched as Lorena walked past the reception desk and out of view, still searching for that thought. But then she finally looked up at me and smiled, hooking her arm in mine. “I think I’d like bacon today too.”
    “I can arrange that.”
    While signing her out, I took a minute to check the register of Dryden’s guests from the day before.

    At Malone’s Pancake House, as I reached out to open the door for my mother, I said, “Smoking or non?” I was certain that she could not remember that Illinois had removed all options.
    Her beatific smile, no doubt inspired by the warm, sweet smells, faded into a tight frown, and she drew herself back, removing her hand from my arm. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
    “Smoking or nonsmoking?” I repeated.
    “I haven’t smoked in years.”
    “Nonsmoking,” I said to the hostess, who gave me an odd look but grabbed a couple of menus and showed us to a table.
    As soon as we were seated, my mother picked up the menu and held it like a laminated curtain in front of her face.
    Once the busboy filled our glasses with water, I said to a photograph of the triple cheese omelet with salsa, “You know why I asked, don’t you?”
    “Asked what?”
    “If you wanted the smoking section.”
    “I’m sure I have no idea.”
    “Mother, lower your menu, please.”
    After a few seconds, she lowered it only far enough for me to see a pair of pale blue eyes sparking with anger.
    “I’m sure I have no idea,” she repeated.
    “Don’t give me that, Mom.” I rested my folded arms on the table’s edge. “Lorena says she smelled smoke in your room.”
    “Well, that’s ridiculous. I don’t know why she’d lie like that. I thought Lorena and I were friends.”
    The fact that she sounded genuinely hurt attested to my mother’s latent acting abilities.
    “She’s just worried,” I said. “Not only is there a thousand dollar fine for smoking, but smoking in those rooms is dangerous.”
    When she continued to smolder, I asked, “Don’t they have someplace outside where you