Free Life Without You by Liesel Schmidt Page A

etiquette books to create a stir. Not that she hadn’t memorized every word on every page, but one got the distinct impression that she didn’t often heed the rules unless they served to her benefit.
    “I’m Annabelle MacMillan,” she said at last, her face once again wreathed in a smile. “Like I said, your grandmama and I didn’t really socialize much; but I knew her well enough to know that many, many people loved her and will miss her.” Her hand remained on my forearm as she spoke.
    I nodded in agreement. “So how did you find out about her and her cakes?” I asked, my curiosity sufficiently piqued.
    Her smile turned mysterious, and it seemed to hold the barest hint of sadness.
    I took a second to survey this tiny woman again, my imagination running wild with all the possible tales that were locked into her memory. No doubt she had some tales to tell—but was she willing to share? And really, how did she know my grandmother, aside from all the sheet cakes and buttercream-covered tiers? Something told me that there was more to the story than simple sugar.
    “Merry and I knew each other when we were young ladies, actually,” she said. “Her mother worked for my family for awhile, coming over to the house to tend to some housekeeping that Mama needed done.”
    I felt myself staring at her as I combed my memory. Grannie Rose had been a housekeeper? Had I known that? For some reason, I didn’t remember ever hearing of this aspect of the family history, but with as much glossing over as happened in the familial timeline, I wasn’t surprised. Domestic duties wouldn’t exactly have ranked high on my great-grandmother’s bragging list.
    “Really? Wow, your family must have been well-off, then,” I said, studying her face for a reaction.
    She frowned. “Dear, it’s impolite to discuss money,” she said, surprising me. “But yes, Daddy did well. And Mama couldn’t cook or clean to save her life, so she had hired help for that,” Annabelle said, shaking her head mournfully. “She was good at hosting a party and arranging a fundraiser, but she was never raised to know how to do anything that really required her to get her hands dirty.” Annabelle tutted.
    “So Grannie Rose came and did laundry and cooked and cleaned?” I asked, just to clarify.
    Annabelle answered with a short nod of her very white head. “Only for a few months, though. Our regular housekeeper retired, and your great-grandmama filled in for her while we looked for a new one,” she explained.
    “Why didn’t your mama just keep her on, instead of hiring someone else?” I asked. Reasonable enough question, right?
    “That wasn’t really something your great-grannie wanted to do full-time. She just had to earn some extra money for awhile, is what she said.” The tone of Annabelle’s voice hinted that she had other suspicions, but if she knew the real truth, she wasn’t letting on. Maybe she’d divulge later—if there ever was a later.
    Right now, though, it was time to get a move on. I still had to hunt down the lotion and buy my panties—no way was I going to go back out to meet Grandpa empty-handed, not after having spent so long in the store. He was probably bored to death by now.
    “Annabelle, it’s been such a pleasure to meet you, but I have to scoot,” I said, hoping the disappointment I felt in having to leave was clear in my voice. I really did want to know more, and I had no doubt she had more to tell. “Grandpa’s out there somewhere waiting on me, and I still haven’t picked up what I came in here for,” I said. “I’d love to talk more, though,” I ventured, hearing the words come out in a rush. “Is there a way I can reach you?”
    “Oh, yes, of course!” She laughed, apparently finding my question a bit absurd. “I’ll give you my number…and I’m on Facebook,” she said, whipping out an iPhone encased in pink crystals. The woman may have been nearing the century mark on her life, but everything