Free The Obituary Society by Jessica L. Randall

her eyes locked onto his hand wrapped around her arm, and the tub of Cool-Whip clattered to the floor.
    He dropped his hand, eyes darting as he apologized under his breath, then picked up the container and put it back. 
    “ What was that about?” she asked.
    He gestured for her to follow and led the way to the dairy section, where he chose a carton of heavy whipping cream.  “Trust me.”
    “But I don’t know what to do with this.”
He raised a brow, then said with some reluctance, “I got it.”
    Lila hesitated, then nodded and rushed to look for the pre-made graham cracker crusts.  She walked down the baking aisle, her anxiety building as she scanned and re-scanned the shelves.
“Where are they?” she asked, unable to control the panic in her voice.  “The pie crusts.  The pre-made kind, made out of graham crackers or cookies.”
    Max stood at the end of the aisle watching her.  “They don’t carry anything like that here.  People make their own crusts.”
Lila’s jaw dropped, and she considered launching a retaliatory assault on Max.  If he wasn’t directly behind this lack of convenient kitchen necessity for non-bakers, surely his tone warranted the attack. 
    He held his hands out in defense.  “Hey.  I—I can help you.”
“How,” Lila asked, her voice screeching an octave higher.  She wondered if she looked like the dragon now.
    “ I’ll make them for you.”  The words sounded as if they had been forced out of him.    
“You?”  she asked, incredulous.
    “ Yes.  I can handle this.”  He sighed.  “Follow me.”
    It was Lila’s turn to put her trust in another—one who’s capabilities she was uncertain of.  What would Ada say if she knew her reputation was being handed to a computer-nerd single Dad who purchased Captain Crunch?  Her foamy flip-flops shuffled along the tile floor behind him as he selected a bag of pecans and a box of graham crackers.
    Lila’s eyes widened.  “Wait!  Will this require an oven?  We don’t have an oven.”
“I have an oven.”
Lila’s eyes narrowed.  “But Ada is adamant about not borrowing one.”
“If she says something, tell her it was my idea.”
    Lila exhaled and nodded.
    As they approached the checkout Lila couldn’t help but notice the significantly raised, penciled eyebrow of the middle-aged woman behind the counter.  She looked back and forth between Max and Lila before smiling. 
    “ Hello, Max.  What are you up to this morning?  Aren’t you going to the breakfast?” Red plastic nails clicked on the counter as she spoke.
    Max offered a self-conscious smile in return.  Lila guessed he had noticed the eyebrow too.  “Hello, Jen.  Yes, we just needed to pick up a few things first.  This is Lila, by the way, Ada Foster's niece.”  Again Lila felt a tug of pride and belonging.
“Oh, of course.  Hi, sweetie.”
    “ I was relieved to see you were open,” Max said.  “But is Owen making you work all day today?”
    “ Naw.  I’m off at noon.  Owen says people tend to get crazy on holidays, so he thought it best if someone were here this morning for last minute emergencies.”
    Max grinned and scratched his chin.  “Oh, I don’t know anyone around here that fits that description.”
    Lila bit her lip and stayed quiet.
    Max pulled out his wallet and Lila held out her hand to let him know it wasn't necessary.  This situation was weird enough. 
    After she paid, Jen handed her the grocery bag.  “You take good care of Max.  We're pretty protective of him around here.”
    Max blushed and ducked his head, then hurried out of the store with Lila following behind.

April 1978
     
    Ada hurried down the porch steps, her head jerking one way, then the other.  She'd brought dinner all week, since Isaac and Phoebe were away.  Without Mom around, Dad didn't eat right if they didn't watch.  But today the house was empty.  He hadn't left a note.  It probably wasn't anything to be concerned about.  It