The Way Back to Happiness by Elizabeth Bass Page B

if you let it. She wouldn’t let it.
    Anyway, she’d already decided she was tired of that ladybug shirt.

    In Dallas, she stopped at the fabric store.
    “What are we doing here?” Alabama’s voice brimmed with exasperation.
    “I need batting. I thought I would make you a quilt.”
    “I have a quilt.”
    Bev held back a shudder. The “quilt” was some horrid thing Diana had slapped together. Not that she liked to speak ill of the dead—even when it came to their woeful crafting skills—but the thing was atrocious. Diana had taken old clothes and sewn them randomly onto a blanket—old pants and shirts, pajamas, and even one of Alabama’s little coats from when she was a toddler. Not scraps of the clothes, mind you, but the garments themselves—buttons, zippers, and all. The result was a lumpy mess, and when Alabama threw it over her mattress, it looked as if someone had upended a dirty clothes hamper on the bed.
    “I mean a real quilt,” Bev said.
    “I like mine.”
    “Well, fine. I have some other things to pick up, too. Meantime, you should look through the pattern books and see if there’s anything you’d like.” When Alabama opened her mouth to protest, Bev stopped her with, “You may not want anything now, but you’ll be whistling a different tune once school starts. You can’t wear shorts to school.”
    Alabama got out of the car and started to trudge toward a convenience store. “I’d rather play Space Invaders.”
    “I thought you didn’t have any money.”
    “I might have a quarter left.”
    Bev smiled tightly and held out her hand. “Then you owe it to me.”
    Alabama blinked. “Seriously?”
    “You took the money from my purse. Anyway, you said you didn’t want my money.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    But Bev’s unmoving stance forced her to believe. Alabama finally shook her head, dug her hand into her shorts, and slapped the change she came up with into Bev’s palm.
    It was a small victory, but it felt sweet.
    After she’d finished at the fabric store, Bev drove to a florist to buy a little something to spruce up her mother’s room at the health center. Flowers would brighten Gladys’s mood, and also give them something pleasant to talk about, if only for a minute or two.
    As she and Alabama headed down the hall to Gladys’s room, the health center nurse stopped them. “Mrs. Putterman is back in her room.”
    Bev experienced a moment of confusion. “That’s where we’re heading now.”
    The nurse shook her head. “I meant, she’s back in her apartment. She said she didn’t want to stay in the health center anymore.”
    “But she needs help,” Bev said.
    “She said she has help.” The nurse added apologetically, “It was her decision.”
    As they made their way back to the main building from the health center, Alabama grinned. “Gladdie escaped!”
    Bev couldn’t share her glee. “Why didn’t she tell me when she called to talk last night? I told her we were coming, and she didn’t mention a thing.”
    “Maybe because she knew you’d react like this.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like a wet blanket.”
    She could read Alabama’s thoughts. If her grandmother was well enough to leave the health center, maybe she was feeling peppery enough to want to move out of The Villas altogether. She would start up that stupid scheme again, and bring Alabama back to Dallas.
    Bev frowned. She was so tired. Why should she care anymore? Alabama obviously hated her—hated her even when she was offering her a home and an allowance. Living together had been a disaster. Alabama was no company, and Bev suspected Derek was staying away now because of all the friction. The school year was about to start up again, and if Glen’s hints were any indication, that wasn’t going to be a picnic, either. She should just let Alabama go. It would be one fewer thing to worry about.
    But then those words repeated in her head. I’m giving her back to you. Diana’s last wish. I’m at the