“No, sweetie?”
Tuesdays, Daphne accompanied her Grandma Rose to Kroger to buy fresh produce. Initially, the trips had been a welcome chance for Daphne and Rose to bond: due to family quarrels she’d only seen her twice before her thirty-third birthday. Lately, though, her enthusiasm was flagging.
Daphne wiped grape juice and pulp gobbets from her sleeve for the third straight week. “Pretty sure. Come try a peach. Gently, though.”
“Did you know I was the Peach Queen at the State Fair?” Rose asked.
“You may have mentioned it.” Daphne skipped saying “every week during peach season.”
“They said I had the best peaches in 56 counties.”
Daphne turned away as her grandmother continued, “Firm, yet tender.” For some reason she couldn’t face her when she said it week after week.
“Won’t turn heads with these, though.”
Daphne glanced back, hoping Rose was talking about fruit. Relieved, she saw her scowling as she dropped two peaches in the bin.
A sparkle hit Rose’s eyes and she nearly scampered across the aisle. “Mmm...limes. I haven’t had a gin rickey, since....” Her voice trailed off, lost in endless yesterdays.
“I didn’t know you drank.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Grandpa Dave and I loved our gin rickeys. Then he passed....”
She’d never met Rose’s late husband. “Would you like one when we’re done? You can tell me all about him.”
Maybe Tuesday shopping trips wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
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