Greetings from Nowhere by Barbara O'Connor Page A

I reckon if you don’t mind big cities, the Statue of Liberty would be a sight to see. And I imagine you’d like Disney World.” She jiggled the Mickey Mouse charm. “But me? I’d go to Niagara Falls.”

    Loretta looked at her bracelet and cocked her head. “Or maybe Texas!” she said, pointing to the cowboy boot.
    Just then a car pulled into the parking lot. Clayton Underwood.
    Aggie pushed herself up and went out to meet him.
    â€œHey,” she said.
    â€œHey back at ya,” Clayton said. “You hit the jackpot today.”
    He handed her a stack of envelopes.
    â€œUh-oh,” Aggie said. “Who did I forget to pay now?”
    Clayton chuckled. “You got them boxes packed up yet?” he said.
    Aggie felt a little flutter in her stomach. Not the good kind of flutter like you get on Christmas morning, but the bad kind, like you get when you think of something scary.
    The flutter moved to her hands, making them tremble. Making them drop the envelopes.
    Then it moved up to her face, making her chin quiver. “Um, not yet,” she said.
    â€œYou okay?” Clayton said, squinting up at her from under his camouflage hunter’s cap.
    Aggie gathered the envelopes scattered in the gravel.
    She nodded.
    â€œGimme a shout when them boxes are ready, then,” Clayton said, tipping his cap and pulling out of the parking lot.

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    It was nearly lunchtime, and Aggie was still sitting in the lawn chair outside her room. Ugly lay curled up in her lap.
    Willow and her father had gone to the hardware store.
    Loretta and her parents were off to Tuckaleechee Caverns.
    Kirby had fixed up that old bicycle in the shed and gone for a ride somewhere. His mother had walked down to the convenience store to pick up a few things.
    Aggie had been so lost in thought, she’d forgotten all about the stack of envelopes that Clayton had brought until she spotted them there on the rusty metal table beside her. She picked them up and leafed through them.
    The telephone bill.
    The water bill.
    A small white envelope addressed to Kirby’s mother. Darlene Tanner .
    â€œWell, look at this, Ugly,” Aggie said. “This is for Kirby’s mother. Maybe it’s the money she’s been waiting for. You know, to get the car fixed.”
    There was a bill from the soda machine company, marked Urgent. Second Request.
    On the bottom of the pile was a large manila envelope addressed to Willow.

    Aggie grinned.
    â€œThis one’s for Willow,” she said to Ugly.
    She clutched the envelope against her chest. “I sure hope this is from that mother of hers she’s been pining for so much, don’t you?”
    Ugly twitched his ear.
    Aggie studied the envelope, running her fingers lightly across the front.
    Then she looked up at the sky and said, “Harold, I don’t know if you got any pull up there or not, but if you do …” She jabbed a finger at the envelope. “ … let this be from Willow’s mama.”
    Aggie gathered the envelopes, nudged Ugly off her lap, and shuffled up the sidewalk to her room.
    But just before going inside, she looked up at the sky again and said, “By the way, her name is Dorothy.”

Willow

    Willow stared out the window of the pickup truck, thinking about what to say.
    Should she say, Daddy, please let Aggie stay at the motel ?
    Or maybe, Aggie’s sad about leaving the motel, so I think she should stay ?
    How about, We should ask Aggie to stay and help us get ready for the tour group ?
    She looked over at her father. He hummed as he drove, his elbow propped up on the open window.
    â€œDaddy?” she said.
    No answer.
    â€œDaddy?” she said a little louder.

    Her father kept his eyes on the road and said, “Hmmm?”
    â€œI was thinking, well, I thought … I mean, maybe …” Willow looked down at her lap, trying hard to find just the right words. “Don’t you think