Secondhand Stiff by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page B

“But we’re doing fine now, as you can see. Doctors told me I might never walk again, so I’ll happily live with this gimpy leg.” She slapped the thigh of her injured leg.
    â€œOdelia’s husband is in a wheelchair.” The way Mom said it, I wasn’t sure if she was bragging or looking for pity on my behalf.
    Heide looked at me with similar confusion. “Really? A car accident?”
    I shook my head. “It was an accident, though. A stupid stunt when he was a kid that almost turned deadly.”
    â€œBut he’s amazing,” Mom added as if writing a review of Greg’s skills for About Town. “Nothing stops him from doing what he wants.”
    â€œThat’s true,” I agreed. “My husband is very athletic and competitive. He can do almost anything a man with working legs can do.”
    Heide gave me a lascivious wink. “Anything?”
    â€œAnything,” I assured her with the blush of a schoolgirl.
    Mom pushed her paper boat away. She’d eaten most of it, which surprised me. She loved to eat, as I did, but didn’t have a big appetite—unlike me. “Before we go, do you mind if I take a picture of you and the truck for my blog?”
    â€œNo, not at all, Grace,” beamed Heide, regaining her prior cheerful composure. “And if you don’t mind, could you e-mail me when it’s posted? You’ll find my e-mail on our website. But finish your food first. And don’t forget the fried mac and cheese.”
    I cut the fried ball open with the side of my fork and popped half into my mouth, where it melted in cheesy goodness.
    Mom looked at me with disgust. “Did you just moan?”
    I nodded while the last bit dissolved in my mouth. “It’s fantastic,” I gushed to Heide. “My husband would have an orgasm over these.”
    â€œOdelia!” snapped Mom.
    â€œDon’t worry, Grace.” Heide laughed. “It’s not the first time someone has said that.”
    I saw the perfect segue and grabbed it. “That reviewer on About Town was right about your food.” I speared a bite from Mom’s abandoned plate. The lobster mac and cheese was incredible, although I preferred the fried sample.
    â€œMom, you want a bite of my meatloaf?”
    â€œJust a small one. I’m stuffed.” Using her fork, she picked up a mouthful of meatloaf and mashed potatoes from the end of the wrap and guided it into her mouth.
    â€œWhich reviewer was that?” asked Heide. “I know there are a lot, but we’ve gotten to know some of them over time.”
    â€œHis name was Bob Y.” I turned to my mother, playing the game she started. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”
    Her mouth was full, so she simply nodded.
    I turned back to Heide. Her face was cloudy again, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she was thinking or because she didn’t care for the person behind the review.
    â€œHe’s written several great reviews for food trucks, but he absolutely raves about yours. It’s like he’s addicted to your food.”
    â€œAnd I can see why,” Mom squeaked out after swallowing.
    â€œDo you know him?” I prodded when Heide remained silent.
    â€œCan’t place him,” she said, putting her game face back on.
    â€œHe only reviews two things,” I continued. “Food trucks and secondhand stores.” I took a drink of my lemonade. “Odd combination, isn’t it? And as much as he loves food trucks, especially yours, he hates secondhand stores.”
    Heide held up her hand in surrender. “Kids. Go figure.” She got up to go. “If you don’t mind, let’s take that photo now. I need to get back home and take a nap before tonight, and also get in some prep time in the kitchen. These nighttime events are usually jammed with customers.”
    â€œI think Heide knows who Bob Y is.”
    We were in the car, travelling on the