Isobel came into work the next night exhausted. She had done it. She had finally done the big presentation. She was tired and, emotionally, vulnerable. She felt raw and a little nervous coming back to this house. She knocked at the door, opened it, and called, "Hey! I'm back."

"Come on in, kid."

Inside, she found Glory sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette and looking frayed. Closing the door behind herself, Isobel unzipped her jacket and hung it up. She tossed her backpack onto the couch.

"What's wrong, Glory?" she asked as she approached the table. The old woman had tears in her eyes, and she wouldn't look directly at Isobel. Sitting down, Isobel leaned against the table quietly.

The old woman flicked her cigarette into a coffee cup.

"It's my anniversary," was all Glory said.

Isobel thought quietly. She didn't know anything about Glory's husband, Evan's grandfather. All she knew was that he was dead, and had been for a long time.

"What do you want to do?"

"Go to sleep and not wake up."

"But I'll get fired."

"Damn."

"You wanna do something else? You wanna go shopping? You wanna go to a strip club?"

Glory looked at her scathingly. "You wouldn't set foot in a den of iniquity like that. You're too much of a goody-two-shoes."

"I happen to be a goody-one-shoe thank you very much, and I would go anywhere if it made you happy."

Glory smiled, and took Isobel's hand.

"I would love to go to dinner. You wanna go to Walmart? Let's go to Walmart. You ever done witchcraft?"

Isobel was a little bewildered by the sudden mood change, but she didn't mind, either.

"Yes, let's go to dinner, yes, let's go to Walmart, and no, I have never done witchcraft."

"You wanna play with a Ouija board?"

Isobel laughed. "Only if you buy me dinner first, you crazy old witch."

She followed Glory up the stairs as the old woman went to go get dressed. She was still in her pajamas, after all. "We're taking my car," she said.

"What? Why?"

"I'd rather not get stranded in your hunk of junk. Or robbed, for that matter. I think, if something bad were to happen, I'd rather crash in my own car, with some dignity."

Isobel gave her a withering look.

"Thanks, you old crone."

Glory got dressed and made up. Meanwhile, Isobel stayed close, sitting on Glory's huge bed. When she glanced down, she saw the butt end of a pistol hanging out of the bed skirt. Deeply alarmed, she averted her eyes. However, now that she had seen it, it was like a fire—she couldn't pretend it wasn't there. She looked around. "Hey Glory?"

"What?"

"You said Evan bought you this house?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Did he buy all your furniture too?"

"Ha! Yeah, but he hired someone to do the decorations. An interior designer or whatever. Isn't that wild?"

Isobel thought it was pretty wild. And a little extra.

"I love my grandma too, but not like, enough to hire an interior designer."

"I would have told him to shove his interior designer, but . . . Well, one, he didn't tell me before he did it. He did it after his grandfather died, and I didn't have anywhere else to go. I got kicked out of my apartment."

"Is this after he started working as a 'bouncer?’" she asked, making double quotes as she spoke.

"Yeah. You gotta understand, that kid grew up poor. Ketchup soup poor. When I die, he'll take over the house. Maybe then he'll give me some great grandkids, eh?"

Glory turned around. Walking to the nightstand, she opened it up and grabbed her wallet. "How does this work? Can I buy you dinner or does that go against the rules?"

"It goes against the rules, you can't give me gifts. Except for fiber that I then spin into yarn for you," she clarified, and Glory laughed.

The two went downstairs and climbed into the car. They drove to a small place downtown that sold normal food at normal prices. When they sat down, Glory looked at the menu.

"So, what's your story, kiddo?" she asked without looking up.

"What do you mean?" Isobel asked. She did not look up either, but she felt like her nerves were obvious, that her discomfort was tangible.

Glory glanced up. "Isobel, no one goes to a fancy college halfway across the country just because. You're studying string. I'm sure you could do that in New York or somewhere else that is closer to home."

God, this old woman was obsessed with family business.

Isobel sighed.

"You can't tell Evan anything about this, okay?"

"Why?"

"I just . . . I don't want him to know. Don't tell anyone, but seriously don't tell Evan. Swear on your comfy La-Z-Boy."

"I swear."

She looked at the menu, and when the waitress came, she ordered breakfast. When the waitress left, Isobel blurted out her story.

"Okay, so when I was in high school, I was like, the best kid ever. And my mom was always going on about how I could get a great job and meet a guy, or if I got married to my boyfriend and got a good career, we could easily have kids by the time I was twenty-seven. Or whatever, y'know? My mom really wanted me to settle down. I didn't go to college right away, I took a gap year to work. Well, big surprise, my high school boyfriend proposed. I accepted, because I loved him and I thought I was supposed to marry him. Well, I got knocked up, and while I was busy being sick, Troy slept with some other gal and got her knocked up too. I ended up miscarrying, but she didn't, and her parents threatened him, so he married her instead of me."

Glory sat there staring at Isobel, who by this point had crossed her arms. She knew she looked surly.

"Jesus Christ, kid," said Glory. "So, you really are a goody-two-shoes."

"Yes. I was going to marry my high school sweetheart and we were gonna have a family and blah blah blah, all typical goody goody stuff. After all that happened, I couldn't stay home. I couldn't even look my mom in the eye. So I had to leave. I started applying to colleges, and got accepted at the university here, and so I left."

Glory fiddled with her napkin. She said, "That's a pretty sad story."

"Yeah."