Return to Emmett's Mill. Kimberly Meter Van
mom died my dad would probably try to climb into the grave with her,” Patti said in commiseration. “He wouldn’t know how to function without her. I don’t even think he knows how to write a check.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “Oh, goodness. I hope to God my parents go at the same time. I don’t want to have to teach my dad to balance a checkbook!”
Tasha smiled, though Josh could tell it was plainly for Patti’s benefit. She cloaked her sadness well enough, but he knew her better than most. As if remembering herself, Patti asked, “So, what can I do for you today?”
Tasha cleared her throat. “Well, I was wondering if I could get extra copies of my mom’s obituary,” she asked, then apologized. “I know it seems morbid, but there are some members of our extended family who would like to see it and they won’t settle for a photocopy.”
Patti waved away her concern. “No problem. How many do you need?” Tasha indicated five and Patti disappeared into the back to retrieve them.
She turned to Josh and he tried not to stare like a starving man, but that’s how he was starting to feel.
“So…are you getting settled in?” she asked.
“So far so good. We rented a small place out on Darrah. It’s not the Ritz but it’s nice enough for me and Chris.”
“How’s your son adjusting?”
How’d she know to ask the one question he’d like to avoid. “Not as well as I’d hoped,” he admitted, surprising himself by answering. But it felt good to talk to Tasha. He couldn’t deny it. “He’s a shy kid, likes his computers more than anything else. It’s hard for him to make friends sometimes.”
“Natalie was like that,” she murmured.
He nodded, remembering. “I’d forgotten how awkward she was.” He chuckled. “She was an odd bird for a while.”
“Tell me about it.” Tasha’s light laughter followed. “I thought she’d never come out of that phase. She practically lived with her nose in a book, though in hindsight, she now owns a beautiful children’s bookstore so I suppose it was all for a reason.”
“I guess I shouldn’t worry about my son and his love for computers, then, huh?”
“He could be the next Bill Gates,” she offered. “You never know.”
“No, you’re right. I’ll stop worrying.”
Patti reentered the room talking. “Must’ve been a popular newsweek. You got our last saleable copies,” Patti said with a surprised shake of her head then a shrug. “Never can tell what’s going to get these people’s motor running. The weeks you think you’re going to sell out, you have extra. The week you think is going to be slow…sells out. Go figure.”
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