Three Bird Summer Read Free Page A

anything.
    “Uh, yeah. Adam,” I said.
    He smirked. “Nice.”
    “See you around!” Alice said, giving Tyler a look.
    “Later, Uh-Yeah Adam,” said Tyler, whipping his blond hair out of his eyes. He picked up the oars and gave them a strong pull.
    I watched them row across the water. A girl on the lake was bad. A girl with an obnoxious cousin was even worse. I couldn’t help feeling like my favorite place on earth had just been invaded by enemy forces.

LATE IN THE MORNING, I found Mom in the kitchen, her nose buried in the refrigerator. She had been cleaning. The house smelled like Murphy Oil Soap, and the surfaces had an unnaturally shiny glow.
    “We need to go to town for food,” Mom said, closing the refrigerator door with a hard shove. “There’s nothing in here but eggs and a very old ham. I’m not even sure she’s gone shopping since Uncle Martin brought her up last month.” Uncle Martin was Mom’s brother. He lived in the Twin Cities and came up to the cabin for occasional weekend visits.
    I glanced out the window at Grandma’s station wagon, covered with pine needles. It didn’t look like it had been moved in a long time.
    “Maybe she doesn’t feel like driving anymore,” I said.
    “Maybe she shouldn’t be driving anyway,” Mom said quietly, more irritated than concerned. “Come on, let’s go to the store so we have something for lunch.”
    I made a face. “I’d rather stay here.”
    “I need you to come,” my mom said. “I can’t keep track of what you like and don’t like these days.”
    “Where’s Grandma?” I asked.
    “Someplace nearby listening to us, I’m sure,” Mom said under her breath. She washed her hands at the sink and dried them on a tattered dish towel.
    “Ma?” she called. “Adam and I are going into town for some provisions. Would you like to come?”
    We heard a thump from around the corner. Grandma emerged with a dust rag in one hand and a sponge in the other. “Apparently your mother thought this place wasn’t spick-and-span enough,” she told me with a scowl.
    “Mom’s a neat freak,” I said.
    “You’ve always kept this place neat, Ma,” my mom said. “I’m just maintaining tradition.”
    “The tradition was that there were men around here to do the heavy lifting,” Grandma said. “Then we ladies had time for cooking and cleaning.”
    Mom grimaced, but I couldn’t tell if my grandmother was referring to my dad’s absence this summer or to the old days, when my grandfather was still alive. From what everyone said, he was a total freak of nature — a big lumberjack of a guy who could chop down a tree, build a shed, fix a leaky pipe, haul out the dock, swim across the lake, and still be back on the deck in time for five o’ clock martinis.
    “Anyway, we’ll stock up on the basics,” Mom said, ignoring Grandma’s remark. “Are you staying home, then?”
    Grandma nodded. We all knew she hated leaving the property. It wasn’t so much about driving the Taurus as about seeing herself as a kind of pioneer woman who could exist without modern conveniences. Never mind that she loved an Oreo or two before bedtime.
    “Can we get you anything when we’re there?” Mom asked.
    “You know what I like,” Grandma said.
    “All right, then,” Mom said. She picked up her purse. “We’ll be back in time for lunch.”
    My mom looked strained as she drove out to the main road.
    “I knew it,” she said. “Something’s not right.”
    “What?” I asked.
    “Grandma’s different. She’s . . . I don’t know. I think she’s slipping.”
    I wasn’t sure what my mom was talking about. Grandma seemed her usual tough self to me. So what if she forgot what time we were supposed to arrive and hadn’t bothered to go grocery shopping? That was just Grandma being stubborn, wasn’t it?
    “Well, we can help out now,” I said.
    “Temporarily,” Mom said. “And not when she’s back in her house in St. Paul.”
    “Uncle Martin can take care of her