Dorothy’s voice came from inside. “Michael, is that you? Come in, come in. And bring my nosy neighbor too.”
I followed him inside, suspicious. Dorothy was sitting in her recliner, beaming. Actually beaming. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in months.
“This is Michael,” she said proudly. “He’s my new helper. I fired the agency yesterday.” Michael set the groceries down and started unpacking them. He knew exactly where everything went.
“Miss Dorothy likes her crackers on the second shelf,” he said. “And her tea bags in the canister by the stove.”
I looked at Dorothy. “You fired the agency? Does your family know?” Her smile faded slightly. “My family doesn’t need to know everything I do. I’m not dead yet, despite their best efforts to plan my funeral.”
