eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

“Watch me,” she said, and spat on her hands and grabbed the sledgehammer again. No one could ever accuse her of giving up at the first hurdle. She was a go-getter, a doer, a woman of action! She could teach Wonder Woman a thing or two!

“For God’s sakes, give me that hammer before you hurt yourself.” He took hold of the hammer and tried to drag it from her hands.

“Let go!” she said. “It’s my hammer!”

“No, it’s not. Just give it to me!”

“No way! I’m building myself a spa even if it kills me!”

“If you keep this up you just might get your wish. Now give!”

“Never!”

The tug of war continued unabated for the next few moments, until finally Vesta had enough and let go. The upshot was that Tex staggered back, lost his grip on the hammer, which swung up and described a perfect arc through the air and finally landed in their next-door neighbors’ backyard.

There was a crashing sound, and Vesta and Tex shared a look of consternation, then both ran in the direction the heavy hammer had landed. And as they glanced across the hedge, they saw that the tool had smashed straight into a large garden gnome—the pride of Ted Trapper’s collection. The business end of the sledgehammer had taken out the head of the gnome, which now had to go through life without a head. No great loss, but Ted might think different.

“Maybe we can glue it back together?” Vesta suggested.

“It looks pretty smashed up,” said Tex.

“Yeah, it looks… pulverized.”

Tex let out an involuntary chuckle, which caused Vesta to release a high-pitched giggle, and soon they were both shaking with mischievous mirth.

“We better remove that hammer before Ted finds out,” said Tex finally.

“Give me a leg up,” Vesta suggested. “I’ll go and get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just do it.”

So Tex gave her a leg up, and Vesta clambered across that hedge, looking in the direction of the house to make sure Ted or Marcie hadn’t noticed, grabbed the hammer and dragged it back to the hedge, then lifted it with some effort—the thing was hea-vy!

“Got it,” said Tex, then helped her back to the other side.

She held up her hand and he clapped it in a perfect high five.

“Well done, pardner,” she said.

“Well done yourself,” he said.

“Too bad about that gnome.”

He shrugged.“Oh, well.”

It wasn’t a big secret that Tex had never liked the fact that Ted had started his own gnome collection after Tex had started his, and that a healthy rivalry had soon developed between the two neighbors over who possessed the nicest and most expensive collection of gnomes. Looked like Ted was now one gnome down. And Tex certainly wouldn’t shed any tears—quite the contrary, in fact.

“So about that spa,” she began as they walked back to the house.

“Oh, God, will you cut it out with the spa already!” he cried.

“But it’s such a great concept!”

“I don’t care!”

“But, Tex!”

“No means no!”

“Maybe a small spa? Like a mini-spa?”

“No!”

“You won’t even notice. I’ll keep it really tiny. A teeny-tiny spa.”

“No!”

“You’re so unreasonable!”

And so, as the poet said, the long day wore on.

CHAPTER 19

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Marge eyed baby Grace with a benevolent eye. She loved babysitting her granddaughter. Granddaughter. Now wasn’t that something? She had a granddaughter. Which meant she was now a grandmother, and Tex was a grandfather. My, my. Just then, Tex and Marge’s mom came walking into the kitchen, both looking a little heated. Presumably they’d gotten into another argument about the so-called spa, even thoughthere had never been any mention of a spa.

The moment their gaze fell upon the domestic scene of Marge feeding Grace a bottle of Odelia’s self-made brew, their truculence immediately ceased and they both took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Isn’t she just the cutest?” said Ma. “She gets that from my side of the family.”

“I’m sure she gets that from my side of the family,” Tex countered.

“How can you say that? She’s the spitting image of my grandmother—may she rest in peace—who also had a little dimple in her cheek.”

“Lots of babies have dimples in their cheeks, Ma,” said Marge. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“She’s a Muffin,” Ma insisted. “Of course she is. And I’ll bet she can talk to cats, too, which will be the litmus test.” She leaned forward and dabbed her finger against Grace’s pink cheek. “Can you talk like a cat? Oh, yes, you can. Oh, yes, you can. Say something.”

“Ma! Just leave her alone.”

“Fine. But she’s a Muffin.”

“She is a little muffin, isn’t she?” said Tex softly. He smiled at the baby. “Our granddaughter, honey. Can you believe it? We’re grandparents now.”

“I know,” said Marge. “Isn’t that something?”

“And I’m a great-grandmother,” said Ma, though she didn’t look entirely happy to make that discovery. “Great-grandma Muffin.” She cocked her head. “Have to get used to that one.”

“So when is my bathroom going to be finished?” Marge asked.

“Soon,” Tex promised. “I talked to your brother and he and Chase will give me a hand this weekend. Together we should be able to put something together.”

“Or not,” said Ma.