Chapter 38: The Plan

Fresco found Medley in the kitchen, hunched over a broken plate, scooping up the pieces in a worn dishtowel. She continued to swear, her gray head bent, round little body squatting close to the tiles.

"Stupid, wretched, moronic-" She broke off, though from the scrunched expression on her pale and wrinkled face she was still cursing inside her head.

He fetched some distant pieces without a word and went looking for the broom. She looked up at him and scowled.

"Help an old lady up, boy."

He laughed. She always made him laugh. Her faded blue eyes twinkled.

"Enough of that." She took his offered hand and grunted her way to her feet. She braced both hands against her lower back. "Not what I used to be."

Fresco opened the closet door and retrieved the worn old broom. He swept up the remaining shards of shattered ceramic. "I don't know," he said. "I think you're doing all right. For an old lady."