Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“Thank you for the tea, Maribel,” I said, putting my coat on.
“You must come back when you are not so busy with the planning,” she said, her hand resting on the brass door latch.
Mason stepped toward her, reaching out his arms for a hug.
“We love you, Grandma,” he said.
As his arms went around her shoulders, she stiffened and stepped back quickly, her head jerking away from his chest.
Her hand flew to her blue headscarf, holding the silk flat against her crown as if she feared it would slip from her head.
Mason froze, his arms still half-open in the empty space between them.
“Drive safely,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
She closed the door before he could say another word.
We walked down the wooden steps to the gravel driveway.
“She would not even let me hold her,” Mason said, his voice tight.
“She was afraid her scarf would come off,” I said.
He stopped by the passenger side of the car, looking back at the dark window. “Why would she care about a scarf so much?”
