My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
I opened three different painted cabinets before I found a single plain white mug. “Since when?”
“Since her doctor in Cleveland wrote the new dietary chart,” Linda said. She did not look up from the steaming pot. “You will need to have her hot water on the tray by seven-fifteen. Not seven-twenty.”
I set the mug on the laminate counter, thinking of the twenty-two dollars remaining in my checking account and the stack of past-due electric bills I had left on my own kitchen table in Columbus. I could not afford to make a mistake.
“I can manage that,” I said.
“She expects the hallway floors swept before lunch,” Linda added, turning to face me. “And there are to be no phone calls after eight in the evening. She says the ring disturbs her rest.”
“I have to call my landlord about my lease,” I said, clearing my throat. “I need to tell him I am subletting the place.”
“You should have done that before you came,” Linda said.
