Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“I found it on your grandmother’s kitchen counter under the morning paper,” I said.
He picked up the tri-fold brochure, his thumb brushing the logo for the Maplewood Oncology Clinic.
“It is probably just a general flyer she got in the mail,” he said, setting it aside. “Maribel gets all kinds of charity mailings from local businesses.”
“It does not have a mailing address on it, Mason,” I said. “It is an office brochure. Someone had to hand it to her at the desk.”
He rubbed his collarbone with his left hand, his eyes scanning the green cover.
“She would have told my mother,” he said. “Evelyn would know if there was something this serious going on with her health.”
“Your mother has not been to that brick cottage in over two weeks,” I said.
He shook his head, his fingers tracing the edge of his wooden grade book. “People go to clinics for routine tests all the time, Clara. It does not mean she is actually sick.”
“Well, the clinic is only three miles away from her front door,” I said.
