The Way Back to Happiness Read Online Free PDF Page B

that suggestion. “You’re fourteen.”
    “I can take care of an apartment. I took care of Mom and me.”
    This was true. Alabama often had to remind her mom to pay the rent and bills every month. She was the one who’d dealt with the super when the bathtub drain backed up with black sludge, or soothed the neighbors when Diana spent two days listening to Janis Joplin at wall-shaking volume. They might have been evicted several times, if not for Alabama’s intervention.
    “I’m sure you’re capable,” Gladdie said. “But I don’t think a fourteen-year-old is allowed to sign a lease.”
    “I don’t want to live with Aunt Bev.”
    “I know, but—”
    “And if I were here, nearby, I could take care of you.”
    Since her arrival, she’d done all the stuff for Gladdie that she’d managed for Mom—reminded her to take her pills, tidied the apartment, played cards with her at night. Her grandmother was getting over pneumonia and wasn’t as strong as she’d been the few times Alabama had visited before.
    “I don’t see why you even live at this place,” she told Gladdie that evening. “You’re not as old as most of the people here.”
    “I’m seventy-seven.”
    “So? Some of the people here are in their sixties, but they seem a lot older than you. You don’t really belong here.”
    This was what she’d decided: The easiest solution would be for Gladdie to move out of The Villas. This would be best for Gladdie, who didn’t seem all that happy in the old folks’ home. If they left together, she could continue to look after Gladdie, and Gladdie would be her Bev buffer. It would be best for both of them.
    At first she didn’t think Gladdie was listening. But then she noticed her grandmother zoning out while they were watching Falcon Crest, which was Gladdie’s favorite show. She loved Jane Wyman.
    “I saw Arnelle asleep in the lobby today,” Gladdie said during a commercial. “She was sitting there with her chin collapsed on her chest. The receptionist had to go over and poke her to see that she was still alive. I hope I never reach that point.”
    “Please!” Alabama rolled her eyes. “You’re not even close to that yet.”
    “Neither was Arnelle, when she first moved to this place.” Her voice was sharpish. “That wasn’t so long ago, either. A year and a half.”
    After that, Alabama thought her grandmother was paying attention to the show. During the next commercial, though, Gladdie mused, “I do miss having a little garden. Growing my own tomatoes. Those grainy things they serve downstairs are pitiful.”
    Alabama sighed shamelessly. “I’ve never even had a garden.”

    Naturally, there was a stumbling block. Named Bev.
    “Move out? No—the whole idea is ludicrous. You only moved in here two years ago!”
    “Maybe that was two years too soon,” Gladdie said.
    “But where would you move to?”
    Aunt Bev had seemed agitated since she’d walked in the door. It wasn’t hard to guess that Brenda Boyer had given her an earful on her way in, but Alabama also sensed something else upsetting her. Her radar for gauging unhappiness had been fine-tuned over the years.
    “We’ll have to find a place,” Gladdie said.
    That we brought Bev’s focus to Alabama, and her irritation was clear. “The easiest solution for everyone would be for Alabama to come live in New Sparta. Soon, before the school year begins. And before this place ends up kicking both of you out.”
    Gladdie rapped her hand against the arm of her chair. “They won’t have time to evict me. I’m leaving here on my own steam. I never belonged here in the first place— you were the one who was telling me I couldn’t cope on my own.”
    Red flooded into Bev’s cheeks and Alabama thought she was going to witness some real fireworks. Then her aunt took a deep breath. “What are you going to do about money? You barely have enough to cover the bills here.”
    “Because this place is costing me a fortune. As far as I’m